I’m a memoirist, essayist, and storyteller drawn to the quiet moments that reveal the biggest truths.

For the past year, I’ve been immersed in writing my debut memoir, We Were Witnesses — a deeply personal exploration of generational trauma, resilience, and the complicated ties of family.

As a bisexual, neurodivergent woman raising two neurodivergent children, I see the world through multiple lenses of difference.

This perspective shapes not only what I write about, but how I write — attuned to nuance, questioning of absolutes, and always searching for the connective tissue between seemingly disparate truths.

My work lives at the intersection of the deeply personal and the universal, weaving lived experience with the cultural, spiritual, and generational forces that shape us.

I write to make sense of things — to place my own story in a wider frame and to explore how identity, history, and belief systems ripple through individual lives — and communities.

Beyond the page, I’m a wife, a mother of two, a keeper of stories, and a believer in the kind of honesty that can change lives. I write to make sense of what has been, and to create space for others to see themselves more clearly in their own stories.

I am shaped by the wild landscapes and salt air of the Pacific Northwest. Seattle isn’t just where I live — it’s the place my mother, and her mother before her, called home. The place my own children were born.

The soft gray skies and rhythms of this city run deep in my work. Here, in my childhood dream home, we are raising our children — with sand between their toes and pine needles in their hair. Rooting and growing in a place that once existed only in the imagination of my child self.