Q&A: Emma Tourtelot, Author of ‘No One You Know’

We chat with author Emma Tourtelot about No One You Know, which is a poignant and thought-provoking debut novel about the fraught bond between mothers and teen daughters, the ripple effects of a tragic event in a small town, and the search for meaning after loss. PLUS  we have an excerpt to share with you at the end of the interview!

Hi, Emma! Can you tell our readers a bit about yourself?

Sure, I’m a middle school librarian in the Hudson Valley, a mom to two teenagers, a former sex advice columnist, and, now, a debut novelist. I lived in England until I was sixteen, so I have a hybrid mid-Atlantic accent that sounds Irish to some people, Australian to others, and one-hundred-percent American to my very English family.

When did you first discover your love for writing and stories?

I grew up one town over from Roald Dahl, so I got to meet him at our local library when I was a kid. He was just as weird and wonderful as his stories. I read his books over and over, and I loved hearing about his little writing shed in his back garden. That was the first time I really thought about who was behind the stories I loved.

Quick lightning round! Tell us:

• The first book you ever remember reading: Flat Stanley by Jeff Brown
• The one that made you want to become an author: It’s a tie between The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett and Anne of Green Gables by L.M. Montgomery.
• The one that you can’t stop thinking about: Charlotte’s Web by E.B. White. It definitely helps that my only tattoo is a quote from this book (“this lovely world, these precious days”).

Your debut novel, No One You Know, is out January 20^th! If you could only describe it in five words, what would they be?

Mothers, daughters, loss, love, hope.

What can readers expect?

No One You Know is a dual-narrative mother-daughter story that Kirkus calls, “An emotionally honest and captivating story about grief, family, and the stories we tell in this digital age.” It’s a meditation on loss, friendship, girlhood, small-town culture wars, and the heartache and joy of being a mom to a teen girl. But it’s funny, too, I promise! (At least, that’s what my husband says.)

Where did the inspiration for No One You Know come from?

My daughter was in middle school during Covid, and during that time her best friend moved to the other end of the state, and our best family friends moved to the other side of the country. My daughter was bereft and so lonely, and it was the first time I really felt that I couldn’t fix something for her. I couldn’t make everything okay again. So I started writing about what this felt like. No One You Know is about a mom struggling with the fact that death can touch the things we love — and, worse, that she can’t protect her child from this knowledge.

Were there any moments or characters you really enjoyed writing or exploring?

Well, it’s not always easy being a mom to a teen girl. They really know how to push your buttons. So often, I would take a deep breath, count to ten, and remind myself, “It’s good material.” My daughter is 17 now, and she hasn’t read the book yet — she says she’s waiting until it’s officially out. I hope she forgives me for all the plundering!

Did you face any challenges whilst writing? How did you overcome them?

I have two kids and I work full-time as a school librarian, so the biggest challenge for me was always finding the time to write and edit. Constitutionally, I am so not a morning person, but I forced myself to become one. If I get up at 6am on the weekends, I can fit in many hours of writing before my two teenagers surface for the day.

This is your debut novel! What was the road to becoming a published author like for you?

Long and winding! And lots of roadblocks that looked at first like dead ends, until I figured out a way around them.

In my previous life, I was a sex advice columnist, and my writing partner and I published eight non-fiction books on the topic. The publishing world was very different back then, and I didn’t fully appreciate how easily those book deals came to us.

My agent pitched No One You Know to many, many traditional publishers, and we received many, many rejection letters. Some of them said such nice things about my writing. It was heartbreaking! I had been through rejection before — with a different agent and a different novel — but that time, I understood what wasn’t working about the novel. That time, I put my rejected novel aside and started something new. But this time around, I felt differently. I really wanted No One You Know to be out there in the world. So I partnered with She Writes Press, which is a hybrid publishing company that distributes books with Simon & Schuster. It’s been a wonderful experience so far.

What’s next for you?

I’m working on my next book, which is a dystopian A.I. novel about the end of the world. It’s also about the lengths a mother will go to in order to protect her children. Because apparently that’s a subject I’m not quite done with yet.

Lastly, what books are you looking forward to picking up this year?

I just picked up a copy of The Correspondent by Virginia Evans, so that’s at the top of my TBR pile.

For fiction coming out in 2026, I’m excited about Little One by Olivia Muenter, Land by Maggie O’Farrell, Country People by Daniel Mason, and Exit Party by Emily St. John Mandel. Also a historical fiction novel called Mrs. Benedict Arnold by my friend and neighbor Emma Parry.

For non-fiction, I can’t wait to read A World Appears by Michael Pollan, because I’m obsessed with the hard problem of consciousness, and if anyone can explain it to me, it’s Michael Pollan.

And for my students, I’m thrilled that Heartstopper Volume 6 by Alice Oseman is finally coming out. They’ve been waiting so long for the latest installment in this adorable and heart-warming graphic novel series.

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EXCERPT

I pull onto the Taconic State Parkway, past the poorly situated WRONG WAY sign that I know is meant for drivers coming from the opposite direction, but that stops my heart every time nonetheless. This is how it begins, I think. This is what it looks like when a mother loses her teen daughter. Not the way you lose a toddler, in a supermarket or at the county fair or some other place where an intercom announcement brings her back to you, the damage no more than a stranger’s disapproving glance—and, seriously, fuck them for that, like they never misplaced an inquisitive child?—but lost in the world.

I hate this road. The undivided parkway curves like a speedway, and I feel my car drift out of its too narrow lane, guided by centrifugal force and a retaining wall so close, I could run my fingers along it. The Taconic is famously “scenic,” which means an abundance of trees and shrubbery—hickory, oak, ash, mountain laurel, even rhododendron—for state troopers and deer to hide behind. The frequent yellow and black DEER CROSSING signs along the route once suggested to me a sight either majestic or sweet: a buck leaping after a doe in mating season; a family of deer in single file, Bambi in the rear. Crepuscular, I remember Ethan telling me when we first moved upstate. The word for animals that are active at dawn and dusk. It seemed so magical back then, a creature that favored twilight, but this was before I learned how deer could emerge from the woods without warning, and how, when this happens, I shouldn’t swerve, because I might hit humans instead. I am supposed to drive straight into the deer, the country living experts say, as if this were a completely reasonable suggestion.

It is near dusk now, prime deer time, and I am flying down the left lane, a steady eighty-two—twenty miles faster than the country living experts recommend. They don’t know everything, though. They don’t know where my daughter is.

I can’t travel this route without remembering the mother who drove her minivan the wrong way on the Taconic for two miles before crashing head-on into an SUV. She killed her two-year-old daughter and her three nieces, and everyone in the other car, too—a news story that was surprising only to people who had never driven the Taconic before.

Indie was two when it happened. The woman was going eighty-five, I remember, and that, more than anything—more than the broken Absolut bottle on the driver’s side or the lack of carseats in the back of the minivan—convinced me she was at fault. Eighty-five on the Taconic in any direction, I could tell you how that story ends. A bad mother, everyone said, although this seemed a bit of a leap to me, all those hours and days measured against two wrong miles.

When I drove along Main Street on my way out of town today, businesses were already hanging flyers: Indie’s eighth grade yearbook photo and the plea, HAVE YOU SEEN THIS GIRL? I press the gas pedal, nudge the car to eighty-five. I tell myself I am closing the distance between us.

Will you be picking  up No One You Know? Tell us in the comments below!