Writers learn from their characters. We only give them their looks and a general trajectory, but their lives are their own. Sometimes, their stories take us to places we never planned to write about, and sometimes they clarify our own situations.
That happened to me when I wrote Twists, Turns, and Curves. I started the rough draft one year during a week-long spring break. For my part, I created a plus-sized teacher who was attempting to do her best at a job she never really wanted.
I was writing what I knew. At the time, I was a history and literature teacher at our Christian school. There were things I enjoyed about my career. I had several bright and friendly students, and I loved the subjects I taught. Unfortunately, I also had some students who hated the school and were intent on making everyone as miserable as they were. Then, some had severe learning or behavior issues that our tiny staff couldn’t address. We were aware of our limitations and would encourage parents to have their struggling children tested to pinpoint how we could best serve them. A few parents did just that. Some ended up putting their children in other schools where their students could flourish with specially trained instructors. Other parents became infuriated that we’d insinuated that something was “wrong” with their child and flatly refused any testing. Watching those kids continue to struggle was heartbreaking.
The worst thing, though, was the lack of support. Administration tended to be on the side of the students and parents. Even if we were eyewitnesses to students breaking rules, we were second-guessed, and the students were given the benefit of the doubt. Students quickly realized they only had to protest their demerits to get them thrown out. That meant teachers had no real authority in their classrooms.
The staff was discouraged from talking to each other, and we did not have much time to fraternize. Most of us worked 11-hour days and were on campus 6-7 days a week. Because our church ran the Christian school, we were also required to participate in a “ministry” (teaching full-time wasn’t ministry enough) and attend every service.
It is easy for me to see the toxicity of the situation now, but when I was in the middle of it, I was busy trying to survive. It was one of those circumstances where I knew things felt off — felt wrong — but I was a head-down, do your work, and maybe everything will finally work out in the end kind of person.
I wrote during school breaks. The rough draft of my first novel was written during summer vacation, and the second (as I mentioned before) started during spring break.
I opened the action of Twists, Turns, and Curves with my main character in her pastor’s office the day before spring break starts, learning that her teaching career of five years will be over in June. Of course, she’s expected to stay and teach until then. Immediately after the meeting (during which she never talks), Caroline retreats to the bathroom to cry and wonder what more she could have given to the ministry. What else could she have done to be worthy of respect and acceptance?
That’s where Caroline’s story started. I took her through the heartbreak of losing her church home, job, and apartment. I gave her the opportunity for a beautiful friendship that turned into more. And I allowed her to leave her toxic situation behind for something so much better.
But here is where things get weird: It took years of rewrites to realize Caroline was IN a toxic situation.
Why?
Because I didn’t know that I was.
I believed that if something felt “off,” it must be because I was wrong. I wasn’t smart enough or spiritual enough to understand. It was easy to believe. No matter how hard I worked or tried to prove myself, I always fell short. It’s been a lifelong curse.
After quitting my job, I began writing full-time. After publishing Plague of Lies, I began another round of rewrites of Twists, Turns, and Curves. That’s when it finally hit me. Caroline’s situation wasn’t just uncomfortable or “bad.” It was abusive and toxic. I explored Caroline’s experiences with labor, economic, and emotional abuse, rounding it out with systemic sizeism and sexism. The book was compelling. Caroline escaped a toxic job and church, began her new life with a man she loved, and started working at the career she always wanted. Of course, living a new life didn’t mean the memories of her old one didn’t intrude.
It wasn’t until I was ready to publish that the truth of Caroline’s story finally broke into my consciousness. Yes, she’d been in a spiritually abusive church, but — so had I. Now that I had stepped back from the constant busyness of the ministry, I could see the systemic problems at the church I attended. All of the things I was encouraged to overlook kept me blind to many of the real problems and encouraged my silence. Even when a truly disturbed individual became a church leader, I allowed myself to be silenced when I should have shouted.
Caroline stood stronger than I did. She not only showed me the truth about spiritual abuse, but she also got to escape and speak her mind. Caroline became my heroine — in more ways than one.
Marbeth Skwarczynski, Author 