I began writing seriously in high school as a way to process how I was feeling and to share that with friends who were wrestling with similar things. Storytelling became a way to talk about what was difficult, uncertain, or unresolved — a way to feel less alone.
That sense of purpose became clearer after I became a parent. The questions I wanted to explore in my writing — about identity, fear, belonging, and how to be yourself in a world that doesn’t always welcome that — were the same questions my daughter was beginning to face. What started as something personal became something I wanted to share more broadly.
I’m drawn to tension, mystery, and the unknown because there will always be forces in our lives that feel larger than us. Sometimes those forces are external — political systems, violence, the environment. Sometimes they’re internal — fear, doubt, anger, grief. My stories explore what it means to confront those forces: to understand them, make peace with them, or push back when necessary.
At the center of my work is a desire to become better than we are — to be more honest, more courageous, and more ourselves, even when that comes at a cost. That struggle shows up in my protagonists, and it’s one I’m still working through myself.