Friday, December 26, 2025

Writing in the Cracks of a Day: How I Juggle Kids, a Day Job, and a Thriller Series with SZ Estavillo



People often ask how I manage to write books while raising kids and working a full-time job — and the honest answer is: I write in the cracks of a day. Very few of us have the luxury of sitting down for eight uninterrupted hours with a candlelit desk, a quiet house, and a mug of tea that stays hot. I certainly don’t.

I’m a mom to a four-year-old and a ten-year-old. I have a day job. And I write thriller novels on deadline. My life is loud, busy, joyful, overwhelming — and deeply creative. But it took me a while to find a rhythm that works.

The Power of Writing Sprints

Writing sprints are my lifeline. Instead of trying (and failing) to carve out huge blocks of time, I treat my writing like small, focused bursts.

A morning sprint while the kids are still waking up.
An afternoon sprint squeezed between tasks.
An evening sprint when the house finally, finally quiets down.

It doesn’t sound glamorous — because it isn’t. But it gets the words written. And when you add up all those sprints, suddenly there are chapters, and eventually, there’s a book.

You Don’t Need Perfect Conditions — You Need Momentum

One of the biggest myths in writing is that you need a perfect environment before you can create something meaningful. You don’t. You just need moments. Even messy ones. Some days I get 200 words, other days I get 1,000. Both days count. Both days move me forward.

A Supportive Partner Makes All the Difference

I also have to acknowledge something important: my husband is a huge part of why I can do this. He takes the kids out of the house, gives me pockets of quiet, and supports this dream fully. Writing becomes a lot more possible when the people around you believe in what you're doing.

Finding Your Own Balance

If you’re a writer with a family, a job, responsibilities, or just a very full life, please know this: you are not behind. You are not failing. You are writing in the real world, and that counts.

Writing doesn’t require a perfect schedule. It requires commitment, flexibility, and the courage to keep going even when life is busy.

One sprint at a time.
One page at a time.
One book at a time.

That’s how we do it.



The Serpent’s Order
The Serpent Series
Book 4
SZ Estavillo

Genre: Thriller
Publisher: Oliver-Heber
Date of Publication: February 10, 2026
ASIN: B0FX5TFVLP
Number of pages: 314
Word Count: 90, 219
Cover Artist: Oliver-Heber

Tagline: An assassin bound by obedience. A detective marked for death. A cartel war with no survivors.

Book Description:

Von Schlange thought she’d escaped her past. Now Black Nova owns her—an elite, off-the-books task force where obedience is survival and failure means death. As their newest assassin, she’s unleashed on targets tied to Jaxon Ryker, a drug lord buried deep in the Alaskan wilds.

Her partner, Xander Holt, a former Navy SEAL with ice in his veins, lives by the same brutal code: no attachments, no lines crossed. But as missions turn bloody, the fragile boundary between partner and lover begins to blur—and desire becomes its own kind of danger.

Across the country, Detective Anaya Nazario faces a nightmare of her own. A synthetic “zombie drug,” deadlier than fentanyl and immune to Narcan, is ripping through Los Angeles. Her investigation exposes a network of dirty cops shielding Ryker’s empire—and puts a target squarely on her back.

Two women on opposite fronts. One war against corruption and cartel power. And a single truth—every betrayal leaves a body behind.

Explosive, unrelenting, and razor-sharp, The Serpent’s Order propels the Serpent Series into its most dangerous chapter yet—where justice is a myth, and survival comes at a price paid in blood.

Book Trailer:

https://www.tiktok.com/@szestavillo.author/video/7573464953785535774

 

 

Excerpt:

 

Darkness pressed against her eyes. The air carried no warmth, only a damp cold that burrowed into her marrow. The metallic taste on her tongue sharpened. Air scraped colder against her throat. Every nerve screamed awake as the chemical fog bled out of her veins. It was easy to fend off the hazy pull of delirium when it felt like she was sitting in an ice box. Frigid salty air wrapped her in an arctic grip, numbing her body. The sound of the seas never betrayed its location, offering no clues as to her whereabouts until the blackout hood was lifted.

Her surroundings winked awake, blurring slowly into focus. Faint traces of soot and aged timber amplified the cabin’s solitude. As her vision sharpened, the first thing she saw was the rugged glaciers looming beyond the drafty windows. Snow consumed the landscape, a frozen expanse as thick as packed sugar, burying the world beneath at least twenty inches of wintery silence. At a distance, she could hear how the ocean roiled, a wild, restless beast, while the bitter subzero terrain stretched in stark harmony with the gray horizon.

Groggy, her eyes roamed in search of Zeus, panic setting in, forcing her heart to quicken until she spotted him across the room in a dark corner. Her head felt like a thousand-pound weight pressed down on her skull, each pulse of pain a hammer striking her temples. She found herself passed out on a lounger that looked to be a decade old—at least her kidnappers, or rather, her new boss—had the courtesy to leave her somewhere relatively comfortable. At the sound of her steps, Zeus lifted his head, tail thumping against the rickety wooden floorboards, though not quite making it to his feet.

It looked like she wasn’t the only one trying to shake herself out of the cocktail she’d been injected with, as Zeus tried to drag himself up. She knelt beside him and massaged his legs, trying to coax circulation back into his limbs. After a few minutes, Zeus soldiered to his feet, the kneading doing the trick. Von exhaled, tension ebbing at the reassuring presence of her loyal companion. She ambled back to the kitchen, taking in her surroundings while Zeus kept time with her steps. A thin film of dust coated the kitchen counters and cupboards, telling her that time had been the lonely cabin’s sole friend for a long while.

She rooted around, discovering there were enough dishes for one person, and the fridge had been stocked with salads and fruit. At least her mysterious employer had the decency to respect her food preferences. They even left a bowl of dried dog food and water for Zeus. How thoughtful. She smirked at their attention to detail as she headed to the bedroom—and then she saw it.

Sitting dead center on the bed, the phone was waiting for her.

Sleek, black, and unbranded—just a smooth slab of technology with no markings or logos, nothing to indicate who made it. While it appeared to be just another typical high-end smartphone, Von knew better. This wasn’t an ordinary device. It was a leash. She picked it up. Lighter than she expected. No buttons, no ports, no removable SIM card. Completely sealed. The kind of hardware designed to be untouchable, tamper-proof. Not to be trusted. The screen stayed dark for a ten-count before flickering to life, awakened by a simple touch. The interface was equal parts minimalist and sterile.

Nothing personal. No apps. No browser. Just a lone notification, already there.

“Welcome to Black Nova.”

She flipped it in her hand, examining it. There wasn’t even a password prompt, fingerprint, or facial recognition scan. Von wasn’t logging in. She was already in—immediate access like it knew her. Then she remembered where she’d seen one before: Jefferson Pierce. Former Marine-turned-hacker, an asset for the FBI. Asset. The word twisted in her stomach, acidic and biting. She recalled the words—“federal asset”—before her world went black. Right before they took her.

“Silent Circle—” Jefferson had called it.

“A what?” She recalled how her brows had knitted together, confused over the unfamiliar phone. “Never heard of it.”

“Military-grade. Locked down tight. End-to-end encrypted calls and messages.”

“Sounds a bit paranoid,” Von had said.

“For what I do—I gotta be. Safest, most private phone out on the market.

She recognized it now. Its black matte finish and elegant, no-nonsense style. But it wasn’t hers—it was theirs. A direct line to the people who had dragged her into this. Her permission not needed. Her choices, her next movements, her next breath would be dictated, assigned. The second she thought this, the phone rang. She stared at it, letting it ring three times before quietly answering.

“You’re awake. Good. Commander Lucian Cain here, in case your memory needs a little reminder,” a calm, authoritative voice began. “Let’s see if we didn’t make a mistake bringing you into the fold.”

“Where the hell am I?”

“Kodiak Island.”

“Fucking Alaska?”

“Impressed you know your geography—most people don’t know where Kodiak Island is,” Cain said. “Before we officially begin, you must complete our test.”

“And if I fail?”

“Don’t think failure’s in your DNA,” he said, then switched to German, “Schlangenfrau.”

She hadn’t intended to assume the title of the Serpent Woman, not before the brutal attack that dragged her to the edge of death. Her guts shredded, body mutilated and left infertile, stripped of the capacity to bear life. A monstrous snake-like crimson keloid scar now etched its path along her abdomen, sewn back up like an object in a sterile lab—efficiently reconstructed like a modern Frankenstein experiment, an uncanny patchwork that left her hollow.

Von Schlange—Schlangenfrau—the Serpent Woman had become her signature.

 

About the Author:

As a BIPOC thriller author, she previously parted amicably with her agent and, three months later, secured an eight-book deal with Oliver-Heber Books—now boasting 24,000 downloads in its first year and a BookRaid bestseller ranking in the thriller category. The Serpent Woman (Book 2) reached #1 on Amazon and topped all three of its categories. Her background spans literary agencies and TV studios, where she contributed to greenlit screenplays that became Lifetime movies. She holds a Master’s in Television, Radio, and Film, has taught author branding workshops (L.A. Writer’s Conference, North Texas RWA), and maintains a 100K+ social media following.










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