I vividly remember eating everything off the Taco Bell dollar menu in the car with my best friend, standing through the sunroof, screaming Edwin McCain’s “I’ll Be” into the sky, wind whipping my hair as I used a burrito as a microphone. A KFC drumstick worked well, too.

And you should, too…

While some may view that as privilege (I do, too, for what it’s worth), I hope you’ll stick with me long enough to hear why I still say this.

For better or worse, I’m an all-in kind of person. Always have been… Here’s the myth I didn’t realize I was carrying, though, until my physical health demanded I set it down: that being a real writer meant being relentless.

As I’ve limped and rested and brain-fogged my way toward some new version of normal again, I keep coming back to a single image. One that’s followed me through more than one collapse in my life.

The Tower.

I’m excited to announce that, coming Fall 2026, people will finally be able to meet Bea, Vivian, Taylor, and the rest of Fairview, NY. When Stars Disappear will be hitting bookshelves just in time for the cozy months, so keep an eye out for future announcements and updates about my debut novel.

There’s a common message they all seemed to communicate in on way or another, and it’s summed up nicely by Alysa Liu. I have a feeling many of her fellow Olympians share this perspective.

It really is difficult to nail down exactly what I loved about this one, because it’s literally the overall story itself. It’s the way it’s written. It’s the melancholic, lonely feeling of it. It’s the expansive, life-spanning nature of it. It’s the way it still manages to feel intimate despite its scope. It’s everything.

I’ve always written as a way to understand and express humanity, whereas now it feels more like I write as a way to connect with and celebrate it. That shift feels important.

We’re only a few days into the new year, and we’ve awoken this week to yet more news of chaos in the world. So, I’m scrapping my planned post in favor of sharing a short missive on the central theme of my life at the moment. I am becoming water.

I was scrolling Tiktok yesterday, and a writer popped up on my FYP asking about beta reading. It got me thinking back to the first couple manuscripts I beta read, and how completely lost I felt, even though I’d taken creative writing classes and knew how to provide feedback to writers.

In my experience talking with other writers, I’ve been surprised to see how many people don’t understand what a sensitivity read is. Though it’s often misunderstood—or completely overlooked—I believe sensitivity readers are one of our greatest resources as writers.

A couple nights ago, as I was brushing my teeth and staring it a blindingly bright full moon through the windows above the tub, a feeling came over me that I can only describe as divine. I literally stopped what I was doing to stare. To listen.

As a writer, I get to explore the human experience in so many ways. It had been a while since I’d taken an Enneagram assessment, so I thought that’d be a fun thing to do again. I was right.

Aside from one small batch of queries earlier this year, I haven’t queried in 2025. But it’s time to dip my toes in again… Hopefully I find the right agent this go around! And in the meantime, I’m back to work on other projects.

I can’t get online these days without someone discussing AI and its many harms within the writing and publishing world. The reality is, it’s growing, so what can we do as creatives?

Sometimes a book really can feel like being wrapped in a comfy knit sweater, curled up by a fire, while rain taps against the window. House of Frank is that for me. But be prepared to CRY.

What stories have you told yourself about who you are? What stories have others believed? What’s the truest story you can tell about yourself today? I’ve got lots of thoughts.

I was listening to the Writing Excuses podcast this week, where they had an episode discussing narrative tradition. It got me thinking about what and who has shaped my writing and storytelling, and it took me to places I wasn’t quite expecting.

Inspired by my daughter’s idea, combined with tales surrounding Lake Lanier and other well-known tragic locations, ECHO is a look at our dark history and the ways our past can come back to haunt us if we refuse to face it.

It’s always a good idea to self-edit, tighten things up, and make every word earn its place in the story. I recently cut ~20k words from a manuscript, so let’s talk clarity, pace, and focus.