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A documentary about 13-year-old Deborah Drapper, who, unlike other British teens has never heard of Britney Spears or Victoria Beckham.She has been brought up in a deeply Christian family and her parents have tried to make sure she and her ten brothers and sisters have grown up protected from the sins of the outside world.The logical, rational part of my brain processed the morning events as unfortunate but not entirely unexpected development. As outlined by the nice-sounding man on the other end of the line, the road ahead of me would be incredibly difficult. It’s telling that what I remembered most vividly about the conversation where I agreed to enter the debt consolidation program was not he said it.In a fit of manic ambition in the summer of 2010 I bought a home, moved in with a girlfriend who would become my wife and signed a contract with Scribner to write a book about fan subcultures that would eventually be called .It was a book I wasn’t sure I had the skill set or journalistic chops to write and the advance was modest enough that financially the book would be a break-even proposition under the best of circumstances once the considerable costs of touring the country following a band and going to myriad festivals and cruises were included. Weep not for me, reader, for I went broke in the stupidest, most self-indulgent and moronic manner imaginable.When I enter the debt consolidation program late in 2011 I owed something in the area of thirty-six thousand dollars on six or seven credit cards against a life savings of a few thousand dollars, mostly wrapped up in the stock market, a losing game I never quite had the heart to quit playing.

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This was about more than just money: it was a spiritual yearning, a need to make what had gone terribly wrong right again.

I had always prided myself on being responsible and well-organized but as the book I struggled to write slipped away from me I grew careless and overwhelmed.

I was overcome with guilt and shame over having wasted so much money with so little to show for it.

I would have to give up all of my credit cards and, in a flagrant violation of the American way of life, only use money I actually possessed.

I was told that debt collectors would stop at nothing to get to me so I could expect a never-ending deluge of calls and letters from debt collectors and, yes, even the possibility, however faint, of legal action somewhere down the road.