The star of Every Year After asked for a career in lights, and the universe delivered.

If the industry is concerned about “iPhone face” – the distinctly contemporary, cosmetically-enhanced look that pulls audiences out of a period piece – Abigail Cowen is the antidote. Sure, you could chalk up her innate ethereality to her strawberry-hued hair (as a fellow redhead with a storied Halloween history, I respect the argument), but there’s far more to the actress than impressive tresses. Cowen has an otherworldly onscreen presence – and a chameleonic quality – that allows her to easily adapt to any era or dimension. No wonder she’s booking.

Hollywood is a far cry from Abigail’s homeschooled upbringing in Gainesville, Florida, where she remembers being siloed for freckles. Yet, she notes, the industry can exhibit the same lack of imagination. It’s something she overcomes with constant grounding, advocating positive visualisation to subvert rejection. Not that there seems to be much of that. The 28-year-old’s latest entry into the cultural canon is Prime series Every Year After, an adaptation of Carley Fortune’s best-selling romance, in which she portrays Delilah, protagonist Persephone’s frenemy concealing a painful past.

It’s a departure from the actress’s oeuvre, which includes so many entries into the fantasy genre – think: a Winx adaptation, Stranger Things, The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina – that she may have a second-calling as an Etsy witch. And yet, while Every Year After may be a small leap into the unknown, it’s a massive stride for Abigail Cowen’s career – aligning her with the massively successful lineage of BookTok obsessions like Off Campus and The Summer I Turned Pretty.

Below, Abigail talks audience expectations, existential crises and the evolution of her own show business ambitions with the kind of candour that proves why she’s the thinking woman’s favourite ingenue.

WM: You signed onto Every Year After before you even knew what it was. How did it cross your desk?

AC: When Every Year After [came to me] it was under a code name. All I knew was that I had to play both a younger and older version of the same woman, finding my own way into her skin without any external context. It wasn’t until months later, right before my final audition, that the veil was lifted. I immediately bought the book and started studying. Knowing how deeply beloved Carley Fortune’s novel is was intimidating, but mostly, it was exhilarating.

WM: Do you find it easier to tackle characters based on existing IP, or do audience expectations raise the stakes?

AC: Audience expectations absolutely raise the stakes. If it weren’t for the readers who fell in love with this story on the page, we wouldn’t be here bringing it to the screen. I view that anticipation as both a profound responsibility and an honor; you want to do justice to the version of Delilah that people have carried in their heads for years. But on set, you have to block out the noise. I do all my heavy lifting and research beforehand, but once the cameras roll, I have to trust my own intuition and just let my version of Delilah breathe.

WM: Fantasy is more familiar territory for you than romance – is the genre something you actively seek out, or is it seeking you?

AC: It’s kind of wild looking back and realising how often the genre has found me, because it was never an intentional blueprint. But I’ve always possessed an overactive imagination – it’s the entire reason I fell in love with acting as a kid. Fantasy naturally taps into that sandbox. The parameters are non-existent, the possibilities are infinite, and that level of world-building offers an incredible amount of creative freedom.

Stepping onto a fantasy set feels like getting to be a child again, playing the ultimate game of make-believe in a world that’s completely uncharted. I think that’s exactly why audiences gravitate toward it, too. It grants people permission to step away from the weight of everyday life and immerse themselves in something unexpected. It’s been a beautiful, accidental cornerstone of my career, and I hope I get to keep exploring those surreal landscapes.

WM: Is there something specific you took away from working with an actor like Ashley Greene, who has had a similar trajectory?

AC: Working with Ashley was a gift because we were friends long before The Ritual. Walking onto a new set and immediately seeing a familiar, trusted face changes the entire energy of an experience. I’ve admired her for so long – not just for her incredible body of work, but for the way she navigates this industry. She has remained remarkably humble, kind, and grounded.

WM: With your transition into grittier, more complex roles, how have your ambitions evolved as you’ve gotten older? 

AC: They’ve completely evolved, which is just the natural byproduct of growing up. I started working professionally at 18, and I was a completely different person then. As you collect life experience, the narratives you’re drawn to inevitably shift. I’ve been fortunate that my roles have grown alongside me, demanding more emotional complexity as my own perspective has deepened. Age changes your capacity for empathy; it rewrites the way you understand human relationships. If I looked at roles I played years ago, I wouldn’t say I played them incorrectly, but I’d certainly approach them through a different lens today because I’ve lived more life.

WM: As a fellow natural redhead, I have to ask: is it something that feels inherent to your identity? Has it ever made casting more difficult, or typecast you into a specific role?
AC: First of all, finding another natural redhead in the wild is always a bonding moment – we’re a rare breed! There’s a very specific, contradictory childhood experience that comes with it. Adults are constantly pulling you aside saying, “Never touch your hair, people pay thousands for that colour,” while your peers are teasing you for standing out. You’re being told to cherish something that simultaneously makes you feel singled out, which is confusing for a kid. I had phases where I begged to dye it just to blend in, but my mom – who was also a redhead – refused. I’m so grateful she did, because it forced me to find confidence in what made me different.

In terms of casting, it definitely presents unique hurdles. In my experience, industry minds can easily envision a blonde or brunette dyeing their hair red if a script calls for it. But when a natural redhead walks into a room reading for a blonde or brunette role, there can be a strange lack of imagination, even though I could easily wear a wig or change my colour.

When we did Redeeming Love, we originally planned on a wig, but it didn’t look right, so we dyed my hair blonde. I had a total emotional breakdown in the salon chair. You spend your whole life being warned that if you dye natural red hair, you’ll never get the exact pigment back. It felt like an identity crisis. Ironically, it became the most liberating experience. Walking around the world as a blonde made me realise that I am still inherently myself, independent of my hair colour. I couldn’t wait to get my red back when we wrapped, but it proved to me that I can inhabit any space. I hope the industry continues to evolve past the “redhead” archetype, because the best part of this job is total transformation.

WM: Hollywood is an industry built on rejection, and you’ve advocated for manifestation throughout your career. How do you protect your mental health and maintain your creative drive when so much of your destiny feels out of your control?

AC: It’s a massive learning curve because this career initially encourages a false sense of control. You memorise the lines, analyse the character, show up, and pour your heart out. But when I was younger, I didn’t know how to let go of the outcome. I would leave an audition convinced I’d done everything right, and a rejection would completely devastate me. I’ve had profound heartbreaks over jobs I didn’t book. It’s an industry of “no’s,” and if you aren’t careful, those rejections will define you.

For me, surviving that cycle required a deep, faith-driven shift. Whether people call it God, the universe, or alignment, it comes down to radical trust. I had to believe that if this desire to create was placed inside my heart, the right rooms would open for me at the right time. My job is to prepare meticulously, execute beautifully, and then completely surrender the results.

Hindsight has given me tangible proof that this works. So many projects I thought were life-changing anchors at the time ended up not being mine for a reason. If I had booked them, I wouldn’t have been available for the life-altering projects that came later. What is meant for you will not pass you by. It’s a muscle I have to train every single day – some days the “no” still stings, and I have to give myself grace. But learning to release what you can’t control is the only way to protect both your craft and your peace.

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