The concept of a Saturn return is totally my kind of thing, but I somehow hadn’t actually heard of it until earlier this year, sitting around a table in a communal hut in Mount Aspiring National Park. My friends and I had hiked into the park earlier that afternoon and would be staying the night, so we were enjoying our hiking sacks of red wine and meandering chat.
One of my friends brought up the subject of my book, which had recently received its offer from what would become my publisher. A friend of my friend, who I hadn’t known before the hike, asked what the book is about.
I suspect all writers hate this question—the dreaded elevator pitch, the request to wrap up years of work and wild thoughts into one neat sentence. With OUR COMMON THREAD, however, it’s always been fairly easy. I think this is ultimately why this story will be my first published novel, rather than any of my past projects, which perhaps lacked as clear a direction.
I delivered the hook, explaining that the story is about a young woman who discovers a portal in her wardrobe that leads to alternate timelines of her life.
The pitch was received brightly around the table, which I attribute less to any creative genius on my part, and more to the relatability of the concept. After all, who among us hasn’t dared to wonder about alternate lives and paths not taken? Or finding a portal to anywhere in the back of our wardrobe?
The friend of the friend asked some follow-up questions, and when I mentioned that the protagonist of the story is 28, she nodded sagely.
“Ah!” she said. “So, she’s entering her Saturn Return.”
Like I said, I’m embarrassed to admit that I hadn’t heard of this concept before then, at least not by that moniker (despite its myriad references in pop music). We’d used the idea of a “quarter-life crisis” in pitching the themes of the book, but I was ignorant about the astrological theory behind why that period of transition from your late twenties into your early thirties has such emotional heft.
For those of you who are similarly in the dark: it takes roughly 29.5 years for the planet Saturn to make one orbit around the sun. So, when you’re somewhere between the ages of 27-31, Saturn is going to ‘return’ to the degree in orbit it occupied at the time of your birth. Astrologers believe that the first Saturn return represents the shift from young adulthood into full-blown adulthood. The second return (56-60) denotes maturity, and the final return (84-90) is the sunset era of true wisdom.
I still don’t completely understand why Saturn as a planet holds this particular symbolism above other planets, but I do know that I felt my own Saturn return hard, without having a label for it at the time.
Between the ages of 27-31, I:
Moved to New Zealand for what was meant to be a season, but unexpectedly felt a pull to put down roots instead.
Started working, and got promoted, in the first job that felt like a real vocation for me more than just a paycheck.
Learnt how to ski and play ice-hockey, despite never having played more than high-school netball before.
Signed with my first literary agent.
After several stop-starts in my writing life, started to think about making the transition from writing young adult fiction to adult fiction.
Witnessed a global pandemic and the whole world collectively wondering, and severely doubting, if we were doing anything right.
I actually started writing OUR COMMON THREAD when I was 33, after my own Saturn return was over and the dust of all the above had settled into the snowy mountains around me. It was only in hindsight that I was able to properly reflect on the big emotions and shifts of that era and attempt to put them into words.
The thing is, you’re not really an adult in your twenties. Yes, you might move out of home and get your first ‘real job’; some might even do ostensibly very grown-up things like get married and have children. But your twenties are still very much an era of experimentation and play. In essence, you have freedom (and money) you didn’t have in your supervised youth, and time you won’t have in your later years. And by time, I don’t mean the hours in the day, but the time ahead of you. Not only that, you possess just enough wisdom to survive in the world on your own, but also enough green naivete to be forgiven for doing foolish things and taking wrong turns.
But then you hit it. That transition between your twenties and your thirties. Your Saturn return.
This is when your decisions start to feel solid (ironic, given that Saturn is made of gas). You start to get the sense that the drafting is over and now it’s time to go to print. This is life as you know it; the chance to make radical changes is slipping away.
And if that’s the case, have you chosen the right life?
This is the question at the heart of OUR COMMON THREAD. Most of us have to explore these “what ifs” only hypothetically, but my protagonist, Mattie, is presented with the unreal opportunity to explore them literally, through a portal in the back of her wardrobe.
This story is also set against the backdrop of life in the film industry, which is the ideal environment for exploring the concept of “what ifs”. My day job involves working with the film industry, particularly the crew at the coalface of making all that on-screen magic happen. I wanted to bring one of those behind-the-scenes workers into the spotlight, and I also enjoyed the playful parallel of Mattie working in the wardrobe department and finding a portal inside a literal wardrobe.
Oh, and it’s also a love story. Just to be clear.
Writing OUR COMMON THREAD was incredibly cathartic for me. I won’t go into all the details why, because that might give away the story’s ending and the realizations that Mattie comes to find through her adventures. But I hope it offers similar solace to readers, when it makes it out into the world in 2026.
Until then…
Kahli x