When I was little, I had a white desk that was shaped to fit into the corner of my room. It looked out the window to our backyard, over a bed of “Jessica Roses” (imagine how it went when I found out that they were not, in fact, Jessica Roses but simply red roses). I’d sit at that desk and write stories of trees sugared with snow, poems about the roses, and songs, despite my complete inability to do anything musical. When I’d tire of writing, I’d read one of the many books I was lucky to have as the daughter of an elementary school teacher. It’s hard to say which I love more, reading or writing, but when I step back, it’s clear that my love is actually of stories—to read, to write, to tell, to hear. It took a long time to get the courage to write my first novel, and there are many people who helped to make it possible.
I took a class online called The Anatomy of a Premise Line from Stanford Continuing Ed, taught by Jeff Lyons, and it turned out to be far more than I could have imagined. I was looking to dabble in creative writing and entered the class with no idea what my premise line would be. Jeff, with your incredible guidance, I was able to develop the premise line for Do You Follow?. I am eternally grateful to you and your anatomy of a premise line.
I’m not sure I would have been able to complete the first draft of the manuscript if it weren’t for Sarah Welch. Sarah, you held me accountable for pages and kept an open mind as we tried to work through this very complicated story. I can’t thank you enough for your patience, persistence, and belief in this project.
To my team at Greenleaf—I dreamt of sitting down at some big conference table to sign a big book deal like I saw in the movies. But when it came time to publish this manuscript, I knew I needed something different. From my very first call with Kesley to David’s extreme patience as I slowly worked my way through the contract, it’s because of your first (and lasting) impression that I had no reservations publishing with Greenleaf.
To the editorial team, thank you for helping me cross the finish line. I knew I needed help sorting through the messy layers of Alexa and Beth, and Ava, you were a lifesaver. Your enthusiasm and understanding of these characters inspired me to polish and finally finish this manuscript. Writing this has been challenging (and a bit mind-numbing), but having someone to brainstorm and talk through ideas with was priceless. I’m not one for mushy—but I feel incredibly grateful to you for getting inside Alexa and Beth’s head with me. Thank you!
To my dad and Mary, who are perhaps my harshest critics, thank you for being my first readers. I waited anxiously for your evaluation, and it’s because of your support that I was able to publish this book how I wanted. That’s a gift few aspiring writers have, and one I’ll never forget. Thank you for your generosity and your support.
To my mom, you have been my biggest cheerleader since the day I was born. You have encouraged me to be unapologetically myself and to try anything and everything at least once. You told me I looked great when I wore Christmas sweaters in July as a kid, and you encouraged me to take the guitar lessons despite my inability to do anything musical. You are more than just my mom— you’re my best friend, and I’m insanely grateful for that.
Bud, I am fully aware that you may not read this book until it’s available on tape or unless I read it to you—but I want to thank you here regardless. It’s really quite simple—I would not have been able to write this book without you. We share a life and, with that, responsibilities. You took on some of mine so that I could live my dream. I’ll find a way to repay you, but it will not involve another puppy. I love you.
Finally, I want to thank a special group of people who shall remain anonymous. I was inspired by each one of you, in many different ways. The lessons you taught me and stories that we shared will always be some of the most important and pivotal of my life. Without our time together, I don’t know where I would be or if I’d have enough clarity to write a story like this.