Becoming a “writer” seemed like a distant inevitability for most of my life. A vital component of every position or opportunity I pursued, I viewed the skill of “writing” as a commodity and less of a source of income or exploration within the limits of my own creativity. 

Leaving academia and working with the public in healthcare allowed me to expand my narrow understanding of the human experience. I found people who reminded me of characters, and then read about characters who reminded me of people. This change was critical in the formation of my first novel. 

I realized one truth: I am a writer. I have stories to tell, and I need to believe in myself before I can expect anyone else to believe in me. 

Having pursued doctoral graduate work in the social sciences, in 2015 I chose to do something that has repeatedly been considered a “bad idea.”

I chose to believe I could have a different life than the one I had imagined. 

So we packed up and headed west to my husband’s hometown of Seattle, Washington. Since moving, I changed careers and wrote two novels. Those novels and the foundations for various other stories and projects are the genesis of why I have pursued my own website and space for writing fiction. 

We’ve moved a few more times, bringing our babies and my library along for the ride. We returned to the PNW in 2022, finally putting down roots. This stability has been critical for my success this year. 

The PNW holds a special place for us. We started our family here. I rebuilt my life after my first foray into doctoral work. So many good memories are puzzle pieces left behind of every ferry we took, every roadtrip, every cup of coffee.