Being a writer had been the plan all along. At least that’s what my mother told me. I’d begun writing stories when I was eight years old. My first was about a cat. I don’t remember the story, but I was allergic to cats and had asthma, so I guess I wrote about a cat after an unfortunate encounter that resulted in me getting a shot of adrenaline. The poor cat was likely the villain of my story. The point is that I’ve always wanted to be a writer.

“I like to think of screenwriting as that boy…you know will break your heart, but you stay...”

My first short story was published shortly after graduating with a BFA in Creative Writing, which gave me a bit of confidence that I was on the right path. I earned my master’s degree in Professional Writing & Publishing at Emerson College, where I focused on screenwriting. I like to think of screenwriting as that boy we fall in love with in high school. The one you know will break your heart, but you stay until he does. Usually more than once.

Writing screenplays was easy, like falling in love when you’re sixteen. However, producing one of my screenplays was about as easy as finding a monogamous seventeen-year-old boy. I was smart about the boy; I walked away. Screenwriting was much more difficult to leave because I kept making progress. What “amateur” screenwriters—anyone whose screenplay hasn’t been produced—think of as progress can come in a few different forms. Competition wins that the industry pays attention to, such as the Academy Nicholl Fellowships, Austin Film Festival, or PAGE International Screenwriting Awards. Attention from the Black List or the GLAAD List. Agents or managers who express interest in your work. Or the big prize—a producer who might pay you to write. Whenever I was ready to give up, I would get some attention. It was like having that boy I’d loved give me a wink and a smile.

In a few years, I won the PAGE grand prize ($25,000) and had another screenplay make the Nicholl semifinals; it was also featured on the Black List and made the top 10 on the GLAAD List. I got a good agent and went to LA to “take meetings.” The script had a director and then a producer. It was happening! And then it all fell apart because that happens to most scripts unless Tom Cruise or Steven Spielberg is pushing it up the hill. I knew this. I wasn’t surprised, but I was finally done pushing. Please don’t give me any credit. It took more than two decades.

“…I can’t not write. It’s been a part of me forever.”

I took a break from writing that lasted one whole summer. But I can’t not write. It’s been a part of me forever. I also really wanted to get lost in something, like you can get lost in a book. I’ve always had a pile of books on my bedside table. I’m currently reading THE SCHOOL FOR GOOD MOTHERS by Jessamine Chan. Next is I’M GLAD MY MOTHER DIED by Jeannette McCurdy, followed by DECEMBER ’41 by William Martin, and SEASONAL WORK by Laura Lippman. I wouldn’t say I like having less than four books in my queue. It's like running out of dark chocolate.

“Writing a novel would allow me to do what screenwriters can’t—color within the lines.”

I decided to go back to my roots and write a novel, but could I turn my back on the umpteen screenplays I’d written, especially my favorites? If not, then why not turn one of them into a novel? A screenplay is about 120 pages long and could serve as a good outline, not to mention that I know the characters inside and out. Writing a novel would allow me to do what screenwriters can’t—color within the lines. I would no longer need to consider everyone else’s input, including the director, actors, cinematographer, set, and costume designer. I would make the choices I’d been leaving for them. But could I switch to writing a novel and make it work? Or would it be like that rebound boyfriend I dated while pretending my heart wasn’t still an open wound—an absolute disaster?

Telling myself to enjoy the journey and not be so focused on getting published (advice I’ve taken and given despite not always believing), I chose a screenplay with characters I wanted to spend more time with and whose story I wanted to research further. The main character is Lieutenant Annie Fox—the first woman to receive a Purple Heart. The story is about how she led her nurses and the hospital where she was chief nurse through Sunday, December 7, 1941. No, she wasn’t at Pearl Harbor. She was a chief nurse at a relatively small hospital at Hickam Field, an Army air base adjacent to Pearl Harbor.

Not many people know about Hickam Field, but fortunately, I found several accounts of that day because the Army had to explain why they were caught with their pants down that day, like Pearl Harbor. Not to mention that all of their B-17 and B-18 bombers had been parked wing tip to wing tip to discourage sabotage while making it much easier for fires to spread from the many Japanese Zeros that dropped bombs over Hickam that terrible morning. Hundreds were killed, but Annie and her small team of five nurses saved many who would otherwise have died.

“I was lucky that one of the first agents I queried was Mark Gottlieb…”

When you write about someone like Annie, I think it ups the stakes and your writing because you don’t want to let that person down. I feel responsible for telling people about her courage and the forgotten soldiers of Hickam Field, whom I’ve never heard mentioned on December 7 or any other day. However, this happened so long ago; would anyone else care? I was lucky that one of the first agents I queried was Mark Gottlieb, who recognized the importance of remembering the human successes and failures at Hickam Field during and after the attack.

Mark sent my manuscript to Sourcebooks, where I prepared to work with an editor. After dealing with several L.A. producers, directors, agents, and managers, I was groomed to take notes, even when I disagreed with every word. There’s a hierarchy in the “biz,” and writers are not near the top the decision tree. The best you can do is make the best of a sour note. This is not to say that every note I’ve ever gotten was terrible; many were good, and a few were excellent. The point is that if you get a note from someone higher up than you (and who isn’t?), you have to take it. So I reconciled myself to taking my book editor’s notes and focusing on getting Annie’s, and Hickam’s stories told.

“…the writer’s opinion matters in publishing.”

And here’s the big difference between writing screenplays and novels, at least in the rewrite stage: the writer’s opinion matters in publishing. At Sourcebooks, I got to work with the amazing Erin McClary, editor extraordinaire. At the beginning of the process, she had a few extensive notes, which were totally on point. For every note, there was give and take, with the mutual goal of improving the story. And the story? It’s still mine. And most importantly, it still belongs to Annie and the men and women who served during the horrendous attack on Hickam Field.

I don’t regret writing screenplays any more than I regret my first love. But for me, writing novels is like the forever love I married. The heart stays intact and flourishes.

Diane Hanks has BFA and MA in Creative Writing from Emerson College in Boston, MA. She first saw the name Annie Fox in relation to her job as a medical writer. Diane was writing about VA’s Annie app—used to send text messages to veterans about self-care—and discovered that it was named after Lt. Annie Fox. It seemed a shame that she’d never heard about the first woman to earn a Purple Heart, so Diane researched and learned about Hickam Field. Based on the real-life Lieutenant Annie Fox, Chief Nurse of Hickam Hospital, THE WOMAN WITH A PURPLE HEART: A NOVEL is an inspiring WWII novel of heroic leadership, courage, and friendship that also exposes a shocking and shameful side of history.  It is available from Sourcebooks Publishing.