How I Accidentally Became an Author (No, Really)
Ha! This question always throws me—and not for the reason you’d think.
Truth is, I haven’t been writing that long. My “origin story” isn’t profound. It’s kind of boring, actually. One day, I’m at co-op (a parent-led homeschool group, if you’re unfamiliar), and we’re deep into an intense game of Sharks & Minnows. Suddenly, the name Quinn pops into my head and refuses to leave.
Quinn became a girl with plant-manipulating powers (ironic, considering I kill every plant I touch). Then she had a best friend named Brien. Then, because romance is my jam, she got a love interest. Then, because smutty dark romance is even more my jam, we leaned in that direction too. (And by “we,” I mean me and Quinn.)
You know what threw me the most though? Raeban’s name. I agonized over it for weeks. It hit me like catching myself standing in front of the fridge with a spoon and an open jar of Nutella—confused, slightly ashamed, but fully committed.
Anyway. I ended up on my living room floor surrounded by papers, suddenly plotting a whole-ass novel. And I was in my head like:
“Bitch, what are you doing?”
“You’ve got no business putting your hand in this pot.”
“Are you really doing this? WHO EVEN ARE YOU??”
I was convinced this was my first sign of a midlife crisis… which spiraled into an actual crisis when I realized I’m old enough to have one. Cute, right?
The chaos that followed was intense. Suddenly, I had a plot, complex characters, a deeper coffee addiction, and a wild impulse to just… write a damn book.
And part of me was like, “Nah. Stop. You can’t do that.”
But that voice? That doubt? That’s what I’ve been fed for most of my life.
My upbringing? Less than ideal. Mom made sure I knew I wasn’t going to amount to anything. And dads? I’ve got daddy issues with interest. I’m 0 for 3 in the father department—one of them kind of tried. All of them failed. Hard.
So how I pulled myself out of that mess and managed to write a whole-ass novel that people actually seem to like? Yeah, I shocked myself too, and I’m still in shock. I still clutch that book like my life depends on it. I still stare at it, get lost in it, because I still can’t believe it’s real.
Y’all, I published a fucking novel! And I had the audacity to make it book one in a series… and promise to write more.
[Insert sheer panic here.]
Not long before it all started, I visited a psychic (birthday gift, 2024). She said I’d have immense success, but not where I was expecting. I thought she meant my craft business. I had just bought a giant-ass laser cutter and was all in. But she shook her head and said, “Nope. This comes out of nowhere. Something you’ve never considered.” And was adamant that this happens soon and fast.
I thought she was full of it. Took my money and gave me a spooky-sounding riddle.
And then I wrote Tangled in Thorns.
Then I started hearing things like, “Your worldbuilding is amazing.” “Your characters feel so real.” “Your plot had twists I did not see coming.” And for the first time, I let myself think: maybe I’m actually… good at this?
One day, holding my book in my hands, the psychic’s words hit me like whiplash from a truth I didn’t see coming. Was this the thing she saw? The thing I never expected, but that suddenly made everything click?
Maybe. I think it might be.
So here we are: welcome to the chaos that is me—Laura Marie. My life. My writing style. My gut-first impulsive creativity. I hope you enjoy the ride, because I’m loving every. single. minute of it.
