From Idea to Illustrator: How I Went from Zero to Two Books

I didn’t start with a plan. I started with a joke.

Somewhere around February 2025, I said out loud — half kidding — 'What if I turned someone into a cartoon character?'

I had someone in mind who seemed to have that kind of energy - the perfect mix of wisdom and chaos that makes for interesting characters.

At first, I imagined them as a comic book hero. Strong, noble, maybe a little sarcastic. The kind of character who smirks at villains before outsmarting them. But something about that version didn’t stick.

So I softened them. Made them younger. More real.

I didn’t have to invent the character — they already existed. All I did was let that energy move into a story. I gave them a turtle companion, because everyone needs a slower, wiser guide. I added my bearded dragon, Simba, into the mix — still alive at the time, but getting older. I didn’t know it yet, but I was already trying to hold onto him.

I wasn’t “writing a book.” I was just playing.

Collecting ideas. Sketching scenes. Letting myself dabble.

Then Simba got sick.

The vet said “infection,” but I felt it in my gut. We’d been down this road before with another dragon. Nine days later, Simba was gone.

And I broke.

I couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t think. The house felt wrong. I kept glancing at the spot where his tank used to be. I’d come home and forget for a second — just long enough to hope maybe I was wrong. But I wasn’t. He was gone.

Instead of curling up and disappearing, I did something else.

I went to Prescott for the weekend. Took a break. Let the grief breathe.

And that’s when something opened up.

Scenes started forming. Not just ideas — scenes. Real, emotionally anchored moments that felt like they belonged to a story bigger than me. I remembered a snack a coworker once brought me. A strawberry wafer. Nothing big. Just a shared moment between people who didn’t always know how to say what they meant — so they offered sweetness instead.

That moment became a lunch scene between two boys. One offers a snack. The other hesitates. It's not about the wafer. It's about trying. About presence. About saying “I see you” without words.

I kept writing.

Six weeks later, Book One was done.
I named it Something Meant.
I locked the manuscript.

By July, Book Two was finished.
It’s called Change What You See.
The story grew deeper, and so did I.

I never set out to do this.
But suddenly, I was.

I started searching for illustrators. I shared pieces with trusted people. I took notes, revised, then revised again.

Every step I took made it more real.

And that’s what I want to say to anyone reading this who thinks they’re not “ready” yet:

You don’t have to start with confidence.
You just have to start with curiosity.

Let it be weird. Let it be soft. Let it be yours.
You’ll figure out the rest as you go.