Gabby Kono-Abdy produced and costars in the romantic drama Wish You Were Here, the directorial debut of Julia Stiles starring Mena Massoud, Isabelle Fuhrman and Kelsey Grammer, which is out now through Lionsgate. She is a bicoastal actress who has appeared in series such as Law & Order: SVU, iCarly and Big Time Rush and has roles in such movies as Nighthawks, opposite Chace Crawford, and Agent Game, starring Mel Gibson and Dermot Mulroney. Gabby was the star and lead producer of Baker’s Dozen, a romantic comedic mini-series that premiered on Amazon Prime, and currently is working on several other producing projects with Universal, Lionsgate, and several independent production companies. Gabby recently publicly launched her production company, Little Fishy Films, which has optioned the rights to several bestselling novels and scripts, where various projects are currently in development. Gabby’s mission is to unearth the amazing books and authors who are currently flying under the radar. (Photo by Emma Silke.)
Transferring high schools and moving from Long Island to Manhattan at 15 felt like a big deal. I was trading suburban lawns and Dunkin’ Donuts for skyscrapers and … well, more Dunkin’ Donuts. But this wasn’t just any New York City school. I was enrolled into the Professional Children’s School, where my classmates were actual professionals – Broadway stars, ballet dancers, even Olympic equestrians. Meanwhile, I was the new kid, unsure where I fit in. Spoiler alert: I didn’t. At least, not at first.
Starting at a new school is always awkward, but starting at this school was a whole new level of fish-out-of-water. I didn’t know anyone, and frankly, no one really seemed all that interested in knowing me. So, while my peers were busy rehearsing their next big roles or perfecting their pirouettes, I found myself spending an unusual amount of time in the library. It wasn’t just a refuge from the cafeteria where I had no one to sit with; it became my little oasis of calm. And the librarian? She became my first friend at PCS.
She was the one who started handing me books like they were secret weapons. Every week, she’d slide something new across the counter and say, “I think you’ll like this one.” She wasn’t wrong. I devoured them. Books like Firefly Lane, Thirteen Reasons Why and Before I Fall became my daily retreats. Each one felt like a portal to another world, a way to escape the awkwardness and loneliness of my own life in this new school. I’d rush home after school, call my mom and launch into detailed recaps. “Mom, this one! This one needs to be a movie. Can’t you picture it?”
Little did I know that many of those books would become movies and TV shows. Turns out my instincts weren’t so bad. But at the time, I was just a kid desperate for connection, finding it in stories about complicated friendships, heartbreak and second chances. Those books felt like friends when I didn’t have any, and the librarian’s weekly recommendations were the closest thing I had to social plans.
Eventually, I did make friends at PCS – amazing ones, actually. But even then, I didn’t abandon my library visits or my love of reading. In fact, I turned some of those friends into bookworms, too. I’d lend them my latest favorite and say, “Trust me, you need to read this.” It became a shared experience, a little community of readers within the hustle and chaos of our performing arts school.
After graduating from PCS, I moved to Los Angeles to attend the University of Southern California, which opened my eyes to what was possible when you take creative risks. The energy of the school was electric, and being surrounded by students who were all chasing their own dreams pushed me to think bigger. It was there that I realized I didn’t need to wait for permission to do what I loved – whether it was acting, storytelling, or creating something entirely new. I learned to trust my instincts and found the confidence to start paving my own path.
Looking back, my time in high school and college was about more than just escaping into stories; it was about learning how narratives work – how they can make you feel seen, understood and less alone. Without realizing it, I was building a foundation for something much bigger: a lifelong love of storytelling that would eventually become my career.
After graduation, I found myself constantly inspired by the creative energy of the people I met and the stories I wanted to tell. One pivotal moment came on an airplane from New York to Los Angeles, when I was seated next to the writer James Frey. We spent the whole five-and-a-half-hour flight deep in conversation, and he shared some advice that to this day stuck with me: “Never get hung up on a project. Once you finish it, move on to the next.” It was simple but transformative, and it gave me the push I needed. That same night, I sent novelist Renee Carlino probably the longest Instagram direct message I’ve ever written. I’d been reaching out to her about her book Wish You Were Here for over a year at this point, with no luck … probably because, as a then early-twentysomething who hadn’t done much yet in the film and television world, I’m sure she was hesitant to even engage in a conversation. But this time, something clicked. She finally agreed to meet with me, and I drove to San Diego from West Hollywood the following weekend. Sitting across from her over brunch, I poured my heart into that conversation, explaining to her why her book needed to be a film, why I was the right person to bring it to life, and how it could resonate with a wider audience. That meeting changed everything.
Now, eight years later, Wish You Were Here is out in the world, and as I continue to look for novels and literature to adapt into films and TV shows, I think about those high school library days often. There’s something magical about taking a story that’s lived in someone’s imagination and bringing it to life on screen. It’s not just about staying true to the source material (though that’s important), it’s about capturing the heart of the story, the thing that makes readers fall in love with it in the first place.
I’ve had the incredible privilege of working on adaptations where I’ve gotten to do just that. And every time, I’m reminded of teenage me, sitting in the library at PCS, imagining how these stories could leap off the page. Back then, I didn’t know this could be a career. I didn’t know that my obsession with books and my incessant calls to my mother about “why this needs to be a movie” were actually early signs of a producer in the making.
What I’ve come to realize is that stories aren’t just entertainment. They’re a way of connecting us, of building empathy and understanding. They remind us that we’re not alone, whether we’re the new kid in school or a grown adult navigating the unpredictability of life. And for me, the ultimate joy is in sharing those stories with as many people as possible.
Sometimes, when I’m deep into a project, I’ll think about that librarian who handed me those books at PCS and wonder if she has any idea how much she shaped my path. I like to think she’d be proud. (And also that she’d still have a list of book recommendations for me if I stopped by.)
Stories have a way of finding us when we need them most: offering comfort, sparking our imagination, and reminding us of our own resilience. The right book at the right time can feel like a lifeline, pulling us into a world that feels both new and familiar, and leaving us just a little changed by the time we reach the last page. Those moments stay with you, shaping how you see the world and your place in it.
Featured image of Gabby Kono-Abdy by Emma Silke.
