How Writing Saved My Life
As my debut novel releases, I sometimes stop and think about my journey to this point. My path to being a published romance author was anything but straight or expected. Every day, I find myself thankful for the winding path that brought me to this point.
From the time I learned to read, the written word has fascinated me. At age nine, I began journaling every day, recording my life and analyzing my feelings. This naturally led to poetry, which I carefully scribed in my floral notebook. I continued on the slippery slope of writing, trying my hand at short stories for English classes and then for myself. While I had fanciful dreams of becoming an author, planning to do so never felt realistic. The statistics are less than encouraging. As a promising student from a small town who wanted to spread her wings, I chose a career path led by my more lucrative passion: science.
From all perspectives, it appeared I made the correct choice. I excelled at a local university, earning two bachelor’s degrees in biology and chemistry along with several awards and honors. Little by little, my reading and writing shifted from fiction to scientific. All my efforts led to getting accepted to one of the best graduate schools in the country, Vanderbilt University, ultimately earning my PhD in cell and developmental biology. On the outside, everything clicked into place for a promising career in science. As often true, though, things weren’t as rosy as they seemed. As I had thrown myself into my career, I’d pushed aside too many things I enjoyed outside of my education, and my mental health suffered. Though I still loved science, I’d lost my drive for the day-to-day work, which left me wondering what my future would hold.
The turning point was when I got pregnant with my daughter, and we decided to move closer to our families. I made the tough choice to pause my career in science. Though I struggled with giving up something that had been a part of my identity for over a decade, I was also secretly relieved to “have an excuse” to let go of something that no longer brought me joy. I threw myself into motherhood instead, but as the years passed, I kept feeling like something was missing.
I needed something to call my own, outside of being a mom. It wasn’t until after my son was born and I battled my second round of postpartum depression that I had an idea. All I had within arm’s reach was my phone, so I opened the notes app and wrote a poem about my inner turmoil during one of my darkest moments. The immediate rush I got from expressing my emotions through writing was addictive. I had missed that form of self-expression more than I’d realized.
After several poems, I decided to jot down a dream I’d had the night before. It was just one scene, but I felt the story brewing underneath. I guess my creative brain had woken up from its long slumber because that night I had another dream of a different story that was longer and more vivid. I spent all my “trapped under a sleeping or eating baby” moments that next day writing out the scenes from the new story, and the dark fog slowly lifted as I had story ideas fill my mind rather than thoughts of despair. Then I thought to myself, “I wonder if I can turn this into a book.” I downloaded a writing app on my phone and got to work. Day after day, I’d use my free hand to type my first book.
Finishing a novel on my phone with a newborn in my arms was more than I thought possible, and I always planned to stop there. It was just a fun exercise for my fragile mind, right? Wrong. I wanted more. Horribly inexperienced, I self-edited my manuscript and hastily sent it out into the world. Polite and constructive rejections filled my inbox until one three-page soul crushing rejection slapped me in the face. It broke me.
I deleted my app and stopped writing because I obviously wasn’t cut out to be a writer. But that first scene I’d written, the one from a different story, kept creeping into my mind. The characters kept revealing more of themselves to me and giving me glimpses of their lives until one day I began writing it down to clear my head. When I wrote “the end” on my new book, my drive to publish returned in full force. This time, however, I refrained from putting the cart before the horse. I put the manuscript away for a while so I could self-edit with fresh eyes along with using editing software. I even read that scathing rejection and scavenged the pieces of actual constructive criticism to improve my new manuscript. After beta readers and many revisions, I sent my new manuscript out into the world and crossed my fingers.
The months ticked by, and I had all but given up when my phone rang with an unknown number that turned out to be Red Adept Publishing. The rest, as they say, is history. That first scene that I ever wrote is now chapter three in my debut novel, “Piece by Piece”, and will always hold a special place in my heart. I never expected my dream of being an author to become a reality, but I’m very grateful life had other plans.
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Twila Mason has been writing her own stories since she learned how to read. She is a writer of romance, women’s fiction, poetry, and short stories. Her work explores raw emotions and the complexities of life while finding the hope within every obstacle.
After obtaining a PhD in Cell and Developmental Biology, she’s switching gears to follow her lifelong dream of putting her fictional stories out into the world. She lives the rural, small-town life in Missouri with her husband, two kids, and menagerie of animals. When she’s not reading or writing, Twila can be found crafting, farming, doing home improvement projects, or going on adventures with her family.
PIECE BY PIECE
Aria Sutton is determined to be nothing like her drug-addict mother. All Aria needs is a few more years to turn her life around, but when her mom messes up again, Aria’s fragile world comes crashing down around her. Suddenly homeless, she carries the weight of not only her survival but also that of her preteen brother. Her only hope is Luke Hardin, her childhood crush who fled their neighborhood six years ago and never looked back.
The last thing Luke expects is Aria’s desperate call for help. After the way he left things between them, the least he can do is let her and her brother crash at his place. With her sleeping down the hall, the past comes rushing back, ready or not. But for Luke, going down memory lane brings back demons from his past that he’d rather keep buried, and the steady life he’s built for himself is threatened.
The boundaries Aria and Luke set are put to the test when circumstances force them closer than ever. While meticulously planning her future, Aria never considered leaving room for the possibility of love. As they navigate the trials of life, Luke questions whether he’s strong enough to let Aria go again. Maybe they can use the pieces of their broken lives to build a better life. Together.
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Category: On Writing
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