I spent ten years as an educator, jotting story ideas on napkins, scraps of paper, and the notes app on my phone between classes. It wasn’t until a weekend trip to Edinburgh, where I somehow managed to wallpaper a hotel room with Post-It notes, that I finally gave in to a quiet, persistent thought that had been following me for years: I am a writer.

My ideas rarely burst through the wall like the Kool-Aid Man. They tend to arrive softly and I’ve learned that if I “water” those small ideas, give them time, curiosity, and a bit of stubborn attention, they grow roots. So, what once looked simple, now reveals history, complexity, and weight.

I believe in the profound need for humor, especially in dark moments. History has taught us that laughter is not a betrayal of suffering but a companion to survival. In stories, contrast matters. If a reader lives in darkness too long, how will they ever recognize the light?

These days, I live in Oregon, where I can usually be found walking along rocky beaches or hiking through moss-covered forests in search of hidden waterfalls. Somewhere along the way, I finished the first book in a trilogy and am currently at work on the rest.