There exists a curious suspension between completing a manuscript and seeing it manifest as a physical object in the world. Like the pause between exhalation and inhalation, this void contains both endings and beginnings, both death and birth. Today, as More Than You Might Imagine finds its way into readers’ hands, I find myself dwelling in this liminal space, no longer solely the keeper of these stories, yet forever connected to the experiences that shaped them.
Writing is, by necessity, an act of excavation. We dig beneath surfaces, unearthing artifacts buried within memory’s shifting terrain. Sometimes we discover treasures we didn’t know we possessed; other times we confront shadows we might have preferred to leave undisturbed. The past twenty-four months of crafting this manuscript have taken me through landscapes both familiar and unexpectedly foreign. I’ve revisited moments that shaped my understanding of intimacy, reexamined encounters through the clarifying lens of distance, and discovered connections between seemingly unrelated experiences that only became visible when placed side by side on the page.
What began as a simple collection of professional observations evolved, through the alchemical process of writing, into something more profound, a meditation on connection, vulnerability, and the endless ways human beings seek recognition in the eyes and touch of another. While the book explores physical intimacy with unflinching directness, I’ve come to understand that its true subject is the space between bodies, that electric field where separate consciousnesses briefly overlap, creating something greater than either could alone.
The Invisible Architecture of a Book
No book emerges fully formed from a single mind, despite the solitary nature of the writing process. More Than You Might Imagine bears the invisible fingerprints of many hands that guided it toward completion.
To Don Mirra, whose photographic eye captured something in my expression I hadn’t known was visible, creating a cover that invites rather than announces, thank you for seeing beyond surface to essence.
To my editor, Frankie Boucher, whose ruthless precision eliminated every unnecessary word (though some will debate that point, I know) while somehow preserving the rhythm of my voice, you’ve taught me that true elegance emerges not from embellishment but from the courage to remove everything that doesn’t serve the core truth.
To the design team who transformed manuscript into object, who selected paper that receives ink the way skin receives touch, who chose typefaces that dance between classical and contemporary, who created margins generous enough for readers to inhabit, your artistry honors the intimacy these pages hope to create between writer and reader.
And to those early readers who encountered these stories in their raw, unpolished state, who offered feedback that shaped the final form, your willingness to witness work-in-progress represents a particular kind of generosity. Friends who support creative endeavors before they’ve proven their worth are indeed the truest allies one can hope to find in this life. Your encouragement sustained me through moments of doubt, your questions guided me toward greater clarity, and your enthusiasm convinced me that these observations might indeed hold value beyond my own experience.
The Space Between Books
Perhaps the most unexpected outcome of this project has been the chorus of voices encouraging me to explore territories I had initially planned to leave unmapped. Through conversations with early readers, I’ve come to recognize that the journey leading to my unconventional profession contains its own narrative value, a story of choices, circumstances, and discoveries that shaped not just my work but my understanding of human nature.
I am pleased to announce that I have begun work on a memoir exploring the path that led me to become a companion, the childhood in La Trinité that shaped my early relationship with desire, the university years that provided theoretical frameworks for understanding human behavior, and the series of encounters that gradually revealed my particular calling in the world. This book will serve as prelude to More Than You Might Imagine, providing context for the observations and insights contained in these pages.
Furthermore, the enthusiasm for this current volume has inspired me to begin gathering material for a follow-up collection. Even More Than You Might Imagine will continue the exploration of intimate territories, venturing into landscapes of desire only briefly touched upon in this first volume.
A Final Thought
Books, like MTYMI, create space for connection across boundaries otherwise difficult to traverse. The pages you now hold in your hands contain parts of me I never expected to share so widely. Yet here we are, writer and reader, engaged in a peculiar form of intimacy, where thoughts transfer from one consciousness to another through the medium of language.
As you move through these hundred lessons, I hope you find not just insights about pleasure, but invitations to examine your own relationship with desire, vulnerability, and connection. The most meaningful response to this book would not be agreement with my observations, but rather your own deepening curiosity about the territories of intimacy in your life.
Thank you for joining me in this exploration. The conversation has only just begun.
Isabelle M.
Monaco, May 2025