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The Difficult Process of Emotional Recovery
Seven Blackbirds follows a law student trapped in an abusive marriage, struggling to protect herself and her infant son, who fights to escape her husband and rediscover who she is away from the abuse. What was the inspiration for the setup of your story?
During the course of writing this novel I was actively raising four children and became pregnant and gave birth to the fifth, so the way motherhood shapes and changes a woman was very much on my mind! I wanted to write about a protagonist who was not strong but became strong, found her voice and truly came into her own—regardless of the consequences for her marriage, which in this case was already rickety. My law studies had really opened my eyes to the impact of the legal system on mothers trying to dissolve the ties of organized society that bound them to their abusers while also trying to make their way through the difficult process of emotional recovery from that abuse. And I have to say that Tulsa inspired me as well. I lived there for several years and developed a deep affection for it. A strong sense of place is important to me as a writer. It grounds a story dealing with difficult subject matter so that the reader can wrap it around her like a cloak and really relate to the characters.
Did you plan the tone and direction of the novel before writing, or did it come out organically as you were writing?
There were maybe four things I was convinced of before I began. I knew I wanted to write about the “afterward” of Kim’s bad situation, that is, not dwell on the abuse, but focus on the recovery process. I knew I wanted to showcase a character who did not grow up in an abusive environment, because that would offer a pat explanation; I wanted this to be a shock and surprise to her, because there’s so much more meat to that story. I knew I was going to include humor because that adds realism—life is funny and sad and everything in between, all mixed up together. Finally, I knew I was going to need flashbacks because the recovery process is quite literally bringing the past back up into the present to meditate on it, digest it, and heal. That’s probably all the planning that went into it. I sketched out a few scenes and let things develop!
What were some themes that were important for you to explore in this book?
Smashing the stereotypes around DV; physical and emotional abuse in the home cuts across all demographic categories.
The way that denial, deflection, minimizing, and holding toxic secrets impedes emotional healing and growth; and conversely, that bravery will get you everywhere!
That growing up means finding the voice of your soul, and trusting that the inner stability that brings will help you ride the waves in the outer world.
That the legal system is imperfect, but when a woman stops viewing herself as a victim in need of rescue by the system, she’s in the best position to wring what she wants out of it.
Were you able to achieve everything you wanted with the characters in the novel?
Yes, for the purposes of this particular novel. Some of the characters do return in the companion volume, “Songs My Mother Taught Me,” so I was able to work with them more and it was and it was fun to discover what came next. “Songs” picks up with our heroine Kim later on, and I was especially pleased to be able to flesh out the relationships within Kim’s family of origin—that’s definitely something that comes to the fore in middle age! I loved working more deeply with her mother and sister, and of course it was a pleasure to see the tiny boy in “Seven Blackbirds” grow into a teen.
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SEVEN BLACKBIRDS
Seven Blackbirds tells the story of Kim, a woman trapped in an abusive marriage, struggling to protect herself and her infant son while trying to reconcile her past hopes with the starkness of her reality. The book moves through moments of violence, fear, and shame, but also into fragile glimpses of self-discovery and resilience. It shifts between memory and present action, weaving together family histories, friendships, and the slow, painful recognition of what love is not. At its heart, it is a book about survival and the small but vital sparks of strength that carry someone through darkness.
The writing is plainspoken, and that’s what makes it sting. There are no flourishes to soften the blows. The scenes of abuse hit hard because they’re described without sensationalism, just matter-of-fact, as if the narrator is bracing herself in silence. At times, I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t. I found myself angry, then sad, then oddly relieved when Kim found small moments of clarity. What struck me most was how the book captured the inner confusion, the push and pull of wanting to believe things will get better, even when the evidence piles up that they won’t. It’s uncomfortable, but it feels real.
Sometimes the pacing slowed in places. I’d get pulled deep into a scene, then taken through passages that felt more like personal notes. But life under control and abuse isn’t tidy. It’s messy, repetitive, and often without resolution. What I admired most was how the book carried its emotional weight without preaching. It didn’t tell me how to feel; it just put me in the room and let me sit there until I had to come up with my own reaction.
By the time I finished, I felt both heavy and grateful. This isn’t an easy book, but it’s an important one. I’d recommend it to readers who want a story that isn’t afraid of discomfort, people who are drawn to voices that speak plainly about pain yet carry a thread of stubborn hope. It would resonate with those interested in women’s stories, in survival, and in the quiet bravery of telling the truth when silence might feel safer.
Pages: 268 | ASIN : B0037UY4U2
LITERARY TITAN 