They Will Tell You the World Is Yours is a collection of 85 vignettes, which are short stories that can be read in one sitting. Vignettes are what I started writing two decades ago, when I was single and living in New York City.

I was working as a writer in an ad agency and taking creative writing classes at night. A very well-respected author was teaching one of my classes and told me, “Vignettes will never sell to a publisher.” The advice was correct. Vignettes weren’t getting published as much as, say, armageddon young adult fiction. But what I did next was incorrect: I gave up the stories that came naturally to me, so I could chase after what I thought other people wanted. I’ve been very lucky to write and publish all kinds of different works in my adult life, but it wasn’t until I sat down and began work on this book that I felt like I was creating what I was made for. I can’t say I regret the roundabout path though. In those years I co-wrote books with a close friend, and I’ve helped many, many people construct their own books—getting all those dreams on paper happened because I learned to write something beyond vignettes. But now that I’ve written both, I know without question the difference between pedaling your hardest without picking up traction, and sailing downhill effortlessly. I hope if you are able to read They Will Tell You the World Is Yours the bike-coasting freedom will come through on every page.

Copygirl was published in 2015, and is a fictional account of a twenty-something woman who is trying to make it as a copywriter in one of the most cutting-edge creative ad agencies in New York City. After it was published, plenty of people who worked with me and my co-author at an ad agency in New York City called to ask us if they were “in the book.” Most of them weren’t. Writing this fictionalized tale was so. much. fun. And so. much. cheaper. than. therapy. When Publisher’s Weekly said the book was “Wickedly funny and smartly sweet” it was like surprise icing on the cake. Not revenge cake. More like the cake you decide to bake because you sweated over all the ingredients for so many years and no way are you going to let them go to waste.

  • Yes, it’s a book of essays that was categorized in bookstores as a memoir. I didn’t know it was a memoir until I was doing an interview with a very nice man from Texas Monthly and he was like, “Do you think you have enough life experience to be writing memoir?” and inside I was like, “Oh shoot, obviously I don’t,” but of course, one doesn’t say they are ill-equipped in a situation like that. Instead one takes a deep breath, pretends her life experience runs as deep as a canyon, and makes a mental note to ask better questions of her editor next time.

  • Unfortunately, even before I was hanging out in middle age, my ankles were not nearly that photogenic.

  • All the time. To be in your 40’s in Texas is to be a ma’am and—like most things I have spent too much time worrying about—the experience is nothing like I built it up to be. 99.9% of the time people are being nice when they call me ma’am, and it’s no small thing to get kindness from strangers. I don’t take that for granted, just like I don’t take for granted the gift it is to get older. One gray hair at a time. One more centimeter of thickness on the ankles. One more morning to hear the birds sing. I’ll take it all, gratefully.

  • Because I consider this book to be about my long road back home to Texas, when I found out Texas Monthly was doing a write-up on this book, I cried from the sheer full-circleness of it all. The line I always liked best from their article was: There is another side to the Sex and the City martini and stiletto fairy tale of finding your way in the world. At the time, I thought that resonated simply because it’s true—thank God there are non-fairy tale ways of finding your way through the world. Now, with a perspective that includes my other books, something larger shines through. None of the books i’ve written are the same in style, tone, or content—in fact, all are wildly different. Yet each is about the precarious, so-worth-it task of finding your way.