AUTHUR | CREATOR | DARK SOAL

From one psychiatric ward hospitalization to the next, or after a stay in a rehab facility, and after each suicide attempt – fate ends up removing people from your life. In essence, quite simply, it erases friendships from your life.Because these crises, whether you like it or not, put your relationships to the test. After four psychiatric hospitalizations, one rehab stay, and two suicide attempts – I was left with very few friends. And even those few continue, in my eyes, to be put to the test. Not because I ask for it, but because I cannot help but weigh a friendship with a close friend who hasn’t read my book, my life’s work, the meaning of my existence.Did I

Once again I collided with reality like a deer on a dark road facing a speeding car. For two months now, the book has been out in the world, and it turns out I’m selling a book I basically wrote for myself. Two orders a week at best. That didn’t stop me from burning through the entire 200,000 shekels I had. Now I’m not only in the red but also stuck with a book that isn’t selling – one that no one finds interesting. What made me think I’d set the internet on fire in just two months? Why did I imagine it was reasonable to spend 200,000 shekels on advertising and influencers – literally all I had? So now

I’ve no idea how long I’ve been floating in the air like this, but the needle still hasn’t moved , still just two copies sold since the start of the month. So where the hell are all these reviews coming from?Some, I’ll admit (and this is a confession straight from the flesh), I paid for , to please Amazon’s algorithm gods, to climb the rankings, to catch your eye, and maybe, just maybe, to make your heart race.But paid or not , they moved me. Deeply. I’ve found myself a new guilty pleasure while manically pushing this book out into the world: reading the reviews. Haven’t made it through all of them yet. At least not on Goodreads.com.But I will.

I’ll keep calling you “my dear diary” until I get any indication that I’m writing to an audience – likes, comments, anything. At least the site should be ready and the blog should finally get published. So, hello, my dear diary. About three weeks ago, as soon as I had the book translated, I sent the translated manuscript to about a hundred literary agents who specialize in selling books to film and TV productions. You have to understand, it didn’t happen overnight, but over time I developed what were probably unrealistic, dreamy expectations of becoming a bestseller and moving to a Netflix or Apple TV production. I kept thinking of myself as the authentic, interesting, and successful version of Call

I don’t even know who I’m writing to anymore.To those still hesitating?To those who’ve already read it?To myself? Either way , once again (for the millionth time, if you’ve read the book) I’ve crashed face-first into the concrete wall of reality. Being borderline and bipolar means, among other things, dreaming far too big. I thought that a month and a half after publishing, I’d have already set the internet ablaze.I read your reviews, and I’m moved , really moved , by what people are experiencing through the book. And still, I don’t get it. Why isn’t it gaining momentum?I’ve closed deals with dozens of influencers. I’ve spent over $30K so far. Meanwhile, my brilliant translator , who also runs my

What a Buddhist challenge I’m going through. Publishing a book is truly like giving birth. I don’t know what I’d do if it weren’t for my translator, Itamar Friedman , the man’s not just a wizard with languages, he’s also an expert in all the various eBook platforms. A month and a half ago, I published the book. I was on top of the world, convinced I’d set the internet on fire within days. And once again , as anyone who reads the book will learn , I was proven wrong. Thing is, I came prepared. Even before the launch, I set up an intriguing Instagram profile with content from the book and racked up over 5,000 followers before it