Every heartbreak leaves a story in its wake—and Kayla Gilheany’s If I Could Turn Back Time is no exception. But how much of Elaine’s journey mirrors Kayla’s own experiences? In this second installment of our blog series, we pull back the curtain on the real-life heartache, healing, and hard-won lessons that shaped this deeply personal book. From late-night texts to bargaining with fate (sans witches, perhaps), Kayla’s story blurs the line between autobiography and fiction. If you’ve ever wondered whether art imitates life, here’s your answer—and why that makes the book all the more powerful.
The line between Elaine and Kayla is deliberately thin. Like her protagonist, Kayla once loved someone who couldn’t—or wouldn’t—love her back. Those seven years of longing, the 4 a.m. conversations, the gut-punch of seeing him choose someone else? All drawn from life. “Writing this book was like reopening old wounds,” Kayla admits, “but also stitching them up properly this time.” The raw specificity—Elaine’s jealousy over social media posts, her desperate visits to therapists and hypnotists—comes from Kayla’s own playbook. For readers who’ve clung to hope long past its expiration date, this authenticity is both a comfort and a wake-up call.
But what about the witch? While Kayla never met a literal enchantress (that we know of), the character embodies her inner dialogue during the lowest points. “The witch is the voice I needed but didn’t have,” Kayla explains. “She’s the part of me that knew better—that said, Stop begging for crumbs when you deserve the whole damn meal.” The magical elements, though fictional, amplify universal truths: love can feel like a spell, and letting go often requires supernatural strength. Fans of the book’s fantastical twist will relish knowing it’s rooted in real emotional alchemy.
One of the book’s most haunting scenes—Elaine’s failed attempt to rewrite history—parallels Kayla’s own “what if” fantasies. “I drafted emails I never sent, rehearsed confrontations in the shower,” she shares. “The time-travel plot let me explore that obsession safely.” The witch’s harsh lesson (“You can’t force someone to love you”) was Kayla’s hard-earned revelation. By fictionalizing her pain, she gained control over it. Readers struggling with similar fixations may find solace in Elaine’s journey—not because it offers easy answers, but because it validates the messy, nonlinear path to acceptance.
The book’s setting, Loveville, is another Easter egg. While not a real town, it’s a metaphor for Kayla’s hometown, where “everyone seemed paired off except me.” The irony of searching for love in a place named for it—and coming up empty—fueled the story’s bittersweet tone. Even small details, like Elaine’s cringe-worthy movie night with Jack, are lifted from Kayla’s memories. “Artifact of my shame,” she jokes. “But that’s the thing about turning pain into art—it stops being yours alone. Readers write to say, I’ve been there too. That’s the magic.”
If I Could Turn Back Time isn’t just a catharsis for Kayla—it’s an invitation. By sharing her truth, she gives permission for others to unpack their own “could-have-beens.” In our next post, we’ll explore the book’s themes of self-worth and why “nice guys finish last” is a myth that needs dismantling. Until then, consider this: What if your heartbreak isn’t an ending, but material for something greater? Kayla’s story suggests it might be.
