If Logan P. called me a name and everyone laughed, I thought that would be my name forever and people would forget to call me Daisy. It sounds silly now, but I think we do the same thing a lot more than we’d like to admit. When a guy breaks up with us, we say, “I’ll never love anyone again.” But we do. When we don’t get the job we want, we say, “My career is over.” But it’s not. Tomorrow is not today. And anything can happen tomorrow. The day the book was released just happened to be my twenty-sixth birthday. I woke up that morning in my new apartment near the beach and wondered if anyone would buy it. Given that I was owed fifty percent of the royalties, this was no small consideration. In the six months since I’d finished writing the book, a lot had changed. Daisy had guest-starred on an acclaimed HBO show as a junkie politician’s daughter and was practically a shoo-in for an Emmy nomination, and she’d just finished shooting that gritty drama with Robert De Niro.
