Why I Wrote the Novel I Needed to Read

By Jessica Guerrieri

I didn’t set out to write Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea as much as it demanded to be written. It was the book I had searched for but never found—the story that might have planted a seed when I needed it most. It wouldn’t have saved me. I want to be clear about that. But maybe it would have cracked open a door, made me question the narrative I was telling myself, made me feel a little less alone.

It wasn’t just about addiction or motherhood, but the quiet, unspoken battles so many women fight alone. I wanted to write something that didn’t flinch, that didn’t smooth over the hard parts, that told the truth in all its contradictions—love and loss, resilience and ruin, desperation and hope.

I wrote Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea because I needed to explore the unspoken struggles that so many women carry—the quiet weight of expectations, the unseen sacrifices, and the ways we attempt to fill the voids within us. Not just my own, but the truth of countless women who silently shoulder the burdens of motherhood, marriage, and the creeping reliance on alcohol to take the edge off. It wasn’t enough to write another cautionary tale about addiction; I wanted to capture the insidious shift from casual drinking to dependence—the way a glass of wine can move from a small relief to a necessary survival mechanism, until it slowly tightens its grip.

For years, I curated the illusion of control. I excelled at my job, kept up with deadlines, cared for my special education students, and played the part of someone who had it all together. But behind closed doors, I was unraveling. One of the most sobering realizations of my life came during our second year of marriage, when my husband begged me to quit drinking so we could try for a baby. But we were already trying—I was drinking two bottles of wine a night while hoping to conceive. Becoming a mother had always been my deepest longing, yet I found myself unable to put down the bottle, even for the thing I wanted most. The shame of that contradiction only drove me deeper into drinking.

When I finally got sober, I did so before becoming a mother. My children have never seen me drink, but that doesn’t mean I never struggled again. During the pandemic—when time lost all meaning, when isolation made every stressor heavier—I slipped back into old patterns. Not with alcohol, but with drugs. I hadn’t relapsed in the way I feared I might, but addiction has a way of shape-shifting, finding new cracks to slip through. That experience, the way addiction adapts and preys on vulnerability, was something I needed to explore through fiction.

There’s a cultural myth that addiction comes with a singular, dramatic rock bottom—a catastrophic moment that forces change. But the reality is often much quieter, more insidious. My protagonist’s descent into alcohol dependence mirrors that slow unraveling. One moment, she’s having a drink to take the edge off the demands of motherhood; the next, she’s waking up unsure if she put her child to bed. That creeping realization—that she was no longer in control—was one I knew intimately.

Yet, as much as Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea delves into these hidden struggles, it is ultimately a novel about resilience. It’s about the strength women find in one another and in themselves. Whether it’s the weight of motherhood, the pain of infertility, or the battle with substance abuse, this is not a novel about destruction. It is about survival, about the fierce and complicated bonds between women, and about the quiet struggles we endure in silence. It’s about the women who see us, who pull us from the depths, who refuse to let us disappear.

I chose to write this story as fiction because fiction allows for a deeper, more immersive truth—one that invites readers to see themselves in the story without the barriers of memoir or self-help. At the height of my active addiction, I would have been much less threatened by a book club novel than by a memoir or self-help book. Fiction allows for distance, for readers to recognize themselves in a character without feeling personally exposed. It makes difficult topics more accessible, less intimidating, and easier to relate to. Sometimes, we need to see ourselves in a story before we’re ready to acknowledge our own truths. My hope is that Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea provides that space for women who may be struggling in silence, offering them a reflection of their experience without judgment or shame.

I wanted to write a novel that didn’t shy away from the rawness of being a woman—the complexities of love, ambition, loss, and identity. I wanted to name these experiences, to describe them in a way that makes readers feel seen, understood, and less alone. Because the reality is that these struggles don’t define us, but they do shape us. They strip us down, force us to make sense of ourselves, and, if we’re lucky, lead us back to something stronger.

More than anything, I wanted to write a novel about hope. Because if there’s one thing I know for certain, it’s that recovery—whether from addiction, grief, or the loss of self—is possible. And more often than not, it’s the women in our lives, the ones who refuse to let us slip away, who help lead us back to ourselves.

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bout Jessica Guerriri:
Originally from the Bay Area, Jessica Guerrieri lives in Davis, California, with her husband and three young daughters. Jessica has a background teaching special education but left the field to pursue a career in writing. Her debut novel, Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea, won the Maurice Prize for Fiction from her alma mater, UC Davis. With over a decade of sobriety, Jessica is a fierce advocate for addiction recovery. Connect with her online at jessicaguerrieri.net; Instagram: jessicaguerrieriauthor; X: @witandspitup; TikTok: @jessstayssober

Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

Leah O’Connor is torn between her current existence and the allure of a phantom life that can no longer be hers.

Swept off her feet by the gentle charm of Lucas O’Connor, Leah’s unexpected pregnancy changes the course of her carefree and nomadic existence. Over a decade and three children later, Leah is unraveling. She resents the world in which her artistic aspirations have been sidelined by the overwhelming demands of motherhood, and the ever-present rift between herself and her mother-in-law, Christine, is best dulled by increasingly fuller glasses of wine.

Christine represents a model of selfless motherhood that Leah can neither achieve nor accept. To heighten the strain, Lucas’s business venture, a trendy restaurant that honors his mother, has taken all his attention, which places the domestic demands squarely on Leah’s shoulders. Seeking an ally in her sweet sister-in-law Amy, Leah shares a secret that, if made known to the wider family, could disrupt the curated ecosystems that keep the O’Connors connected.

As Leah dances with the devil while descending further into darkness, her behavior becomes more erratic and further alienates her from both Lucas and the wider family. Leah’s drinking threatens the welfare of her family, prompting Amy to turn to Christine for support. A duel for loyalty ensues. When the inevitable waves come crashing down, it’s the O’Connor women who give Leah a lifeline: the truth of what they’ve all endured. But Leah alone must uncover the villain of her own story, learn how to ask for help, and decide if the family she has rejected will be her salvation or ultimate undoing.

This masterful blend of book club and literary women’s fiction offers a frank rebuttal to Wine Mom culture and is perfect for fans of Celeste Ng and Liane Moriarty.

“This powerful debut is sure to resonate with readers who like complex family stories.” —Library Journal

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Category: Contemporary Women Writers