I love stories.

For as long as I can remember, they’ve been a safe place for me.

A place to hide when my life wasn’t great.

I’m someone that doesn’t do a lot of living. It might sound strange to people who know me in real life, because I’ve achieved a lot of great things, but those are things that just happened.

At the risk of sounding cocky, I’m going to admit that there’s not much that I’ve had to try really hard for.

I don’t like conflict so I avoid any major decisions that would put me at odds with people in my life.

Whether it’s choosing a major in college, or a job or a town to live in, I’ve always just gone with what everyone else says. I don’t mind it, but it definitely has led me to give up a lot of agency in my life.

That’s why I feel like I haven’t done much living.

Except through stories.

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Stories are where I experience all the things I would love to do if only I had the courage.

Travel. New Countries. Love.

Most of all, love.

​I grew up on love stories.

As a 90s kid, I grew up on Disney fairy tales.

As a wide-eyed 7-year-old surrounded with dysfunction, those stories felt like magic.

They felt like courage and inspiration and hope for the future.

Even then, I knew that was what I wanted to create.

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By 8, I was crafting comics about superheroes and justice and crime.

At 10, it was fairytales filled with magic and romance. 

Those early sketches and storylines were immature, but they pulsed with life and purpose.

​Slowly, my consumption grew from Disney to novels and then further evolved to include dramas, but they’ve always been about love.

​I want to analyze the stories I’ve loved to pay attention to what draws me to them.

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Join me as I discover the stories my heart most wants to tell.

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WELCOME!