For a long time, Extraordinary existed in a strange in-between state.
It wasn’t just an idea anymore, but it also wasn’t finished. It lived in notebooks, half-drafted chapters, late-night revisions, and conversations that started with, “I know this sounds weird, but hear me out…” It followed me through different seasons of life, different jobs, different versions of myself.
And then, one day, I typed the last sentence.
I expected fireworks. Or at least a dramatic moment where I leaned back in my...