Of course there is a large gap between deciding to write a book and actually writing one. There was a gap of years: it was 2001 when I first thought of making a book, 2009 when I formally started. Creatively it needn’t have taken that long, but there was also an emotional gap. In 2001 I was fully in the grips of an eating disorder, and couldn’t possibly write about recovery. As it turned out, getting better was not quite as straightforward as I’d planned or hoped for (afraid you’ll have to wait for the book for that bit of the story). On the way, I abandoned the book idea a number of times, for a number of reasons:

“Writing a book I such a cliché, I can’t believe I thought it was a good idea!”

“I’m so messed up, I can’t even do recovery right. Nobody’s going to find anything useful or interesting to read in how many times I did everything wrong.”

“I’m totally fine and sorted. I’ve moved on and closed the door. I need to just leave it all behind, pretend it never happened.”

After several variations on these themes, including a ceremonial burning of a stack of journals that would have been invaluable in writing the book, I came back to the idea. Perhaps, after all, I had something important to say. Perhaps I could say it better in pictures than words. By 2009, enough time had passed that I was steady enough in my recovery, and confident enough in my work as an illustrator that I felt ready to take the project on. I’m glad I waited. I had no idea what I was letting myself in for…