Copyright (C) 2010 Crowner-Coleman Publishing Inc. All Rights Reserved
Author’s Note
Behind the Book
Paulo Coelho’s, The Alchemist, has been one of the greatest
inspirational books of all time. I had never heard of the book until my editor suggested that I read it a few years ago.
I called her one day when I was feeling down in the dumps. I was having myself a pity party over lack of book sales. She listened
quietly as I grumbled and complained about all the effort I had put into my books with only minimal results to show for it. When I
was finished with my belly-aching she asked,” Have you ever read, The Alchemist?” I told her that I had never even heard of
the book, and then I asked her for the author’s name because I would see if my local library had a copy for checkout.
The very next night when I got to work, I check my interoffice mailbox to see what kind of work my boss had left me to do. Inside,
among memos and handouts, was a book a co-worker had left for me. The post-it note stuck to the book cover said that she knew I like
to read books of a spiritual nature and that this particular book was going to be thrown away with all the other ones she never bothered
to read. As you might have guessed, it was a copy of The Alchemist. I knew this was no coincidence, so I dove straight into
the book to find out what message the universe had for me.
I read The Alchemist first by myself, and then
I read it along with my wife. I read it one final time—this time jotting down some of the key concepts in the book as I understood
them. I had no idea of their power until I begin to go through I tragic period in my life. Like most works of fiction, there
are real stories woven throughout this book. It is up to you to decide whether or not you are reading a book of fiction with
many facts, or a book of facts, written as fiction—either way you are in for a real treat.
Perhaps, the greatest
tribute a writer can give to another writer is to let them know how much they enjoy their work. I think Paulo knows this.
David staggered toward me with his hands clinched in a tight fist. Something was wrong with him. He tried to corner me against the bar but I backed myself out into an open area of the family room where little Jacob had been playing with his toys.
He never noticed the little plastic fire truck Jacob had been playing with. When he lunged at me, his foot caught the back of the toy, and he fell head-first into the corner of the solid oak china cabinet. He fell with all the momentum of tree, and the thud was heard throughout the house.
Time seemed to stop and we all froze for a moment. He lay motionless in front of the china cabinet and blood began to seep
into the beige carpet, turning it into a weird shade of maroon. Time started again and we were huddled around him in an instant. Jennifer
was hysterical, and Kate, when she saw how much blood flowed, tuned and looked away. She could never stand the sight of blood.
