After twenty-three years in the classroom, stepping into retirement presented both liberation and disorientation. Teaching had defined not just my daily schedule but my fundamental identity and purpose. Becoming an author required not just new skills but an entirely new relationship with myself.

The transition began mentally about 18 months before I physically left the classroom. After making the decision to step away, I found myself cataloging experiences, conversations, and observations with new attention. What were my greatest takeaways? Which student patterns seemed most significant? Which adolescent experiences most needed attention and prayer? Little did I know at the time that I was actually building a repertoire of ideas for authentic representation in young adult literature.

This mental stocktaking eventually became character sketches, scene fragments, and thematic explorations. Quick emerged first, a character after my own heart. Quinn developed more gradually, embodying the silent strength that sometimes masked emotional struggles.

My first writing attempts were humbling. The decades I spent crafting lesson plans and educational materials hadn’t prepared me for narrative writing’s distinct challenges. I was determined to write fiction, without it sounding like case studies or like a lecture, and I wanted to create a story that was not only psychologically accurate but also full of the emotional resonance and narrative momentum that fiction requires.

Learning this new craft in my forties required both persistence and humility. Each revision taught me something new about fictional techniques like sensory detail, dialogue mechanics, narrative pacing, and character development. Teaching had required continuous learning, and I quickly found that writing demanded the same growth mindset I had encouraged in my students over the years.

The transition from teacher to author also involved some tough reflection regarding my identity. After decades being addressed as “Ms. Erica” and defining myself primarily as an educator, becoming “Erica Mimran Sherlock” required internal adjustment. In the small bubble of my educational realm, my contributions had carried automatic credibility through decades of experience and credentials. In the writing world, however, I was a beginner. An amateur. An infant. It was a humbling but ultimately refreshing perspective shift.

Time management presented another challenge. Teaching had imposed external structure through schedules, calendars, and deadlines. Writing required self-generated discipline and new measures of productivity. The freedom was simultaneously liberating and disorienting. 

Throughout this transition, my teaching background provided unexpected advantages. Years spent developing curriculum had honed my story structure instincts. I was able to recognize how to sequence events for maximum impact, how to balance exposition with action, how to create meaningful resolution without artificial or unbelievable tidiness. And as you may know, I took the novel even further when I wrote the companion curriculum to go along with it.

Most importantly, teaching had generated the central insight driving the novel. I firmly believe that adolescents, especially today, have to navigate complex developmental challenges that deserve serious literary attention. Their experiences, while temporary in duration, create permanent impact on identity development. The best service adults can offer isn’t protection from challenges, but rather to equip them with tools to meet them effectively.

Through Quick and Quinn represents not just my debut novel but the beginning of a second-act career that integrates my educational background with creative expression. The teacher I was completely influences the writer I’m becoming, and I am thrilled to honor both roles while embracing the continuous learning that has defined my professional life.