Completely by accident. I wasn’t an aspiring author. I didn’t have a manuscript tucked away or a lifelong dream of seeing my name on a book. I have always had a vivid imagination and would often be found daydreaming. In fact, some people have been known to say I was aloof and detached as a kid and a young woman, but I was honestly simply lost in my own head much of the time. Then I started writing my thoughts down, and that escalated. Suddenly, I had an outlet, and it felt so incredibly good to be lost in my own, private world. Then this man appeared in my mind, and he wouldn’t leave me alone, so I started writing his story on my laptop or on my phone in my spare time. That story became This Man. It utterly consumed me, and with a nudge from my best friend, I eventually self-published it in October 2012 with absolutely no idea what I was doing or what was about to happen. I did so much wrong! No editing, no professional cover, no marketing. There was no Instagram or TikTok, and self-publishing was quite new too. When I think back now, I have no idea how things escalated so quickly. Readers found Jesse and Ava, things went completely mad, a publisher picked it up, and somehow that little story I wrote for myself became a #1 New York Times bestseller. I suddenly had a career I never anticipated or dared to dream about, and fourteen years and nearly forty books later, I’m still making shit up for a living.