Actually sitting down and writing a book is a fairly solitary pursuit. It’s me and my laptop, sitting in a room in silence, watching a cursor blink annoyingly back at me. It is a story that lives in my head, and my head alone, waiting for me to find the words – the right words – and get to typing. Nobody can do it for me, and for the most part, I can’t write with distractions. So it’s a solitary pursuit.

In that way only, though. In every other way, it takes a village.

Seriously.

The village...