My Long, Winding, and Very Crooked Writing Journey

August 28, 2022 | By Women Writers Women Books | Reply More

By Sharon M. Peterson

I’ve secretly always wanted to be a writer. But life has a way of detouring dreams like that. I got married. I taught middle school. I had four kids, two with special needs. I quit teaching to stay home and became a professional at a variety of things, including: arguing with insurance companies, shuttling children to daily therapy, microwaving chicken nuggets, and living on caffeine and prayer. Life taught me I had to be ruthlessly practical. Which meant: no time, no money, no sleep, no writing.

But around 2015, friends, probably tired of my rambling Facebook posts, encouraged me to start a blog. So I cautiously signed up myself for a free site. Writing became an outlet for me, a sort of free therapy. I was happier when I wrote consistently. So in 2016 when my laptop broke and we couldn’t afford to replace it, to say I missed writing was an understatement. It was like a limb had been cut off and then reattached with duct tape and instructions to continue with regular activity. Which is what I did. The stiffest of upper lips, sucked it up, and all that. Secretly, I longed to write.

A few months later, a friend asked me for coffee. When I got there, she presented me with… a new laptop. A group of moms (most I didn’t even know) had been following the blog. They’d pitched in and bought it for me so I could keep writing. It was the most remarkable gift I have ever received. I decided then and there and I was going to write a book.

So during naptimes, at 1 a.m, in between cleaning up spilled milk and wrestling naked children off the trampoline, I wrote. That laptop lived on my kitchen counter, perched on an economy box of baby wipes. I often wrote in five- or ten-minute increments, standing at my kitchen counter.

In 2017, I finished that book.

I had no money for extras. I didn’t attend conferences. I couldn’t pay for an outside editor. I used the resources I found around me–the writing community on Twitter. I found a local writing group. I met strangers who became critique partners who are now lifelong friends. I started querying and got requests. None of them panned out. Then, in June 2017, my only sister/sibling and best friend passed away unexpectedly, and I plummeted into a severe depression. But I didn’t give up on that stupid book. Some days, it was one of the few things that kept me going.

Over 16 months, I queried 107 agents. I was rejected a lot until I thought about changing my name to Reject. Two days before my 40th birthday, I signed with my agent. My book went out on submission.

In the meantime, I secretly entered the Romance Writers of America’s Golden Heart contest. I told no one, not even my agent. I was sitting in a parking lot of a pet store when I got the news that I was a finalist. I cried, as one does receiving such news in a pet shop parking lot, then politely turned down the invitation to attend the conference in New York City which mind as well cost a million dollars. But the people in my life wouldn’t let that slide. They encouraged me to crowd source for the funds. It took a little over a week for friends, family, and members of the writing community to fully fund my plane ticket, hotel, and conference fee. I went to NYC for that conference.

While I didn’t win, it was the second most remarkable gift I’ve received.

Alas, that book did not sell. So I wrote a second book. It was pretty good, better than my first. Because in the years leading up to it, I learned a lot about writing for publication. The book went out on submission in 2019. And the response was positive. I got a revise & resubmit from an editor, so, you guessed it, we pulled it and I did more revisions. It went back on submission in February 2020—days before the world exploded.

Then my personal life exploded, too. In August 2020, my husband was laid off his job of 10 years. Two months later, he contracted COVID and ended up hospitalized. In January 2021, my oldest son began having grand mal seizures. In February 2021, the Freeze came through Texas and our two story house was completely destroyed by frozen pipes. Our family of six moved into a 700 square foot hotel room for over four months. My husband still hadn’t found a new job. I could barely read a book, let alone write one. Things were bleak.

And no, this is not the part of the story where my book magically sold at auction for seven figures and a movie deal.

We finally got back into our house and in October 2021, my husband accepted a job 2000 miles away. So we sold our house, uprooted the kids from the only place they’ve ever lived and moved right after Christmas. My book was still in submission-limbo and I was beginning to think maybe I wasn’t meant to be a writer.

But in January of 2022, my agent submitted to Bookouture, an imprint of Hachette UK and… they liked it. Liked it so much, I was signing a two-book deal in February. Six months later, The Do-Over was published.

I have to pinch myself all the time that this is really happening. I am a published author. Has my world suddenly become rainbows and kittens? No, it has not. We still have a lot of challenges and they aren’t going anywhere. But I know what I’m capable of now. There’s power in that, the knowledge that with persistence, stubbornness, and a little hope, even the biggest, scariest, most impossible dreams can come true.

—

Sharon M. Peterson is a former middle school teacher and has the personality to prove it. One of her favorite quotes is from Steinbeck’s Grapes of Wrath: “It was her habit to build up laughter out of inadequate materials.” She strives to tackle life that way and create characters who do the same. She lives in Washington with her husband and four children, including two autistic sons. She has one cat, two dogs, one tattoo, and an intense fear of poodles (don’t ask). She can usually be found hunched over her computer, creating characters and stories she hopes you’ll love as much as she does.

—

THE DO OVER

“Look, you’re a nice girl but I don’t think we should see each other anymore.” The voicemail ends and I freeze in the dentist’s chair as I realize… I’ve just been dumped on live radio.

It took the most humiliating break-up for me to see that my life is in serious need of a do-over. Cue my anti New Year’s resolutions that even I can’t fail at:

Stop dating. (Men are the worst.)
Stop trying to lose weight. (I’m never giving up chocolate.)
Stop working so hard. (Selling mortgages is not my dream career.)
Stop trying to live up to unrealistic expectations. (Start living my best life.)
Stop trying to please my mother. (It’s not possible.)

But it turns out number five is harder than I thought, as she begins her campaign to get me back with my ex. So, what’s the perfect solution to keep her out of my love life? An imaginary boyfriend—at least he was supposed to be imaginary until I blurted out my neighbor’s name…

Nate, the bad boy next door with gorgeous hazel eyes, a razor-sharp jawline and a mysterious scar, might be hot, but he’s definitely not my boyfriend. Now all I need to do is stick to my resolutions while also keeping my interfering family away from my non-existent lover who has no idea that we’re fake dating. What could possibly go wrong?

A completely addictive, feel-good rom-com perfect for fans of TikTok sensations The Love Hypothesis, The Unhoneymooners, and Sarah Adams. An absolutely hilarious page-turner for anyone who feels they need to start living life to the fullest.

BUY HERE

Tags: featured, women writers