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 chair and whispered, “I did it.”

What I actually felt was… quiet.

Not disappointment. Not relief. Just quiet.

Finishing a book you’ve been carrying for years is less like crossing a finish line and more like setting something gently down. You realize how long you’ve been holding it. How much of your identity got wrapped up in the trying.

For a while, Extraordinary was something I was working toward. A future version of myself would be the one who finished it. The one who knew how it ended. The one who finally felt “done.”

But when it was finished, I was still me. Still learning. Still doubting. Still hopeful.

What changed wasn’t who I was, it was what I was willing to release.

Letting the book go into the world has been the strangest part. Writing is private. Publishing is public. Suddenly something that lived safely in my head is being read by people I’ve never met. They’re forming opinions, connecting with characters, seeing things I didn’t even know were there.

That’s humbling in the best way.

What surprised me most is that finishing the book didn’t end the story, it opened something else entirely. Conversations. Connections. Messages from readers who felt seen. From teens who resonated with Kai’s feeling of being on the outside. From adults who remembered what it felt like to be underestimated.

I didn’t write Extraordinary because I thought it would change the world. I wrote it because I needed to tell a story about belonging, responsibility, and the quiet courage it takes to keep showing up when you feel ordinary.

If you’ve read the book, thank you. Truly.

 If you’re thinking about reading it, welcome.

 And if you’re working on something of your own that feels like it’s taking forever... keep going.

Sometimes the most extraordinary thing isn’t finishing.

It’s staying with the story long enough that it sees a finished version of you.

— Mark Jackson