Back in 2011 or so, I was struggling to make ends meet. I worked part-time at a gym, but I also tried to make ends meet with my writing, i.e, advertising my services on Craigslist to edit people’s resumes essays, or to help them write business letters, that kind of thing.

I ended up creating and writing a resume for this one young man, taking time to meet with him and ascertain what he’d like me to put in his resume. I charged him $40 for the work, but when I submitted his completed resume, he never paid me the money (I was naive then, not understanding that I should not complete someone’s work until they at least pay me half for my services). So I ended performing a service for someone without getting paid.

Around this time I was looking into writing a novel and attend a week-long novel writing workshop in San Francisco — free of charge. I developed a rapport with the group, and our last night we went to dinner at Fisherman’s Wharf. One of the ladies in the group struck a rapport with me, and at the end of the night, she asked if I could give her ride back to San Leandro. It wasn’t a problem for me, as it wasn’t too far out of the way, maybe ten miles or so. She said she would pay me gas money, and I expected $10 or $15. But when I dropped her off she handed me $40 instead. That was the exact amount I should have gotten from that prior writing gig, so I always felt God paid me back for my troubles.