I wrote my first poem at eleven years old, in the wake of a friend’s suicide. That poem found its way into the school yearbook, printed beside her photograph in the memorial pages. Seeing my words in print for the first time was a turning point—a small but certain shift in how I understood myself. From that moment forward, I carried writing with me.

In my twenties, I wrote my first novel during NaNoWriMo, more as an experiment than anything else. It remains unpublished, but the act of completing it showed me that stories could stretch further than I had imagined.

For years, I thought about pursuing graduate study in writing, always weighing the decision but never taking the leap. It wasn’t until March of 2023 that I finally applied to Tiffin University. I entered their Master of Humanities in Creative Writing program and graduated in the summer of 2025 with a 4.0. That degree was less an ending than a beginning—proof that the threads I had carried since childhood were meant to be woven into my life with intention.

My story

I found my way into theatre at a young age, volunteering in local playhouses around Canton, Ohio before moving to Kent to pursue a BFA in Theatrical Design & Technology with a specialization in Lighting Design. Light taught me about nuance, about how to hold a moment just long enough for it to matter. In time, I shifted toward Stage Management, where I would spend twenty-five years of my life—living behind the curtain, keeping the moving parts steady, while writing quietly on the side.

Writing Philosophy

I write to music. Often, one song becomes the anchor for a scene or a poem, looping endlessly until it dissolves into background rhythm and opens a space for words to arrive. The right song sets the mood, resonates with the soul, and keeps me tethered to the emotional current of the work.

Most of my writing happens in bed, with my dog curled beside me or stretched across my feet as if to keep me grounded. A small table holds my laptop, and a cup of coffee is always within reach. It’s a simple ritual—music, dog, coffee, words—that reminds me writing is not about grand gestures but about returning, over and over again, to the quiet practice of listening and shaping language.

FAQs

My writing begins with settling in—getting cozy, grounding myself, and making sure an iced coffee is within reach. Once I’m comfortable, I choose where to place my focus for the evening. Without the weight of school deadlines, I now follow self-imposed ones, gentle but steady, to keep me moving forward.
Most nights I make time to visit at least one project, whether it’s a manuscript-in-progress or a poem that’s been waiting for my attention. Alongside that, I carve out space for the work of community—crafting content for Substack and tending to my social media presence. In this rhythm of discipline and creativity, I’ve found a balance that keeps the words flowing and the projects growing.
I keep a large corkboard in my writing space, an ever-shifting gallery of images that help ground me in the world of my work. Right now, it’s overflowing with visuals for my debut novel, which is moving through its third revision.
I also draw inspiration from sound and story—music that settles into my bones, or even television that surprises me with a spark of character or mood. One of my short stories was born from a documentary on Alaska, proof that inspiration often arrives when and where I least expect it.
My favorite poet and author is Richard Brautigan. His deceptively simple style has become the backbone of my own writing voice. The Pill vs. The Springhill Mine Disaster remains my favorite of his poetry collections, while In Watermelon Sugar is the book I return to most often.
I’m also deeply inspired by Nordic myth and Viking history. Their stories of gods, monsters, and mortals—woven with themes of resilience, love, and fate—have shaped my imagination for years, and they form the heart of my debut novel.
Writing is rarely a straight path, so the timeline shifts with each project.
Just As Heavy came together in about a year, while my novel has been more than four years of active writing and is still moving through revision. If history is any guide, it may take another two years before that book is ready to share.
Every project has its own rhythm, and I’ve learned to let the work take the time it needs.
You can’t edit a blank page
All first drafts are nonsense. You’re learning your voice, your characters, how they react to the world. It’s not supposed to be pretty. It’s supposed to be messy. Just write it. Get it onto the page and worry about if it’s “good” later. You can always edit your work, but you can’t edit a blank page.