About

I’m interested in memory and resilience. In the stories we inherit and the ones we choose to tell differently. In the strange architecture of imagination. In what happens when ordinary lives brush against something mysterious, impossible, or just slightly beyond explanation.

And occasionally, I’m interested in what happens when a perfectly reasonable plot decides it would rather become something else entirely.

Words, Images & Imagination

I’ve been creating for as long as I can remember, but around fifteen, something began to take shape.

Around the age of 15, I was introduced more seriously to art, writing, and literature, and I found myself drawn equally to words and images. I wrote poetry and short stories. I drew and painted. I experimented with illustration and abstract art, and filled pages with ideas for everything from homes and room layouts to clothing and fashion designs.

They may have looked like different interests, but to me they came from much the same place: the pleasure of imagining something that didn’t exist yet and finding a way to give it form.

That creative thread followed me into adulthood, even when life became crowded with careers, responsibilities, and all the practical things that have a habit of taking up space. Sometimes it surfaced as a poem or short story. Sometimes as a sketch, a design, an image, or an idea scribbled down before it disappeared. But it never really left.

My first published book, Artwork on Mind’s Canvas, brought two of those creative worlds together: an illustrated collection of 55 poems exploring emotion, memory, love, loss, resilience, and the inner landscapes we don’t always know how to name.

Poetry taught me to pay attention—to an image, a feeling, an unexpected turn of phrase, or the enormous weight sometimes carried by a very small moment. Art taught me something similar: to look closely, to notice shape and atmosphere, and to imagine what something might become before it exists.

Fiction has always been there too. What changed wasn’t that stories suddenly appeared. It was the scale of the story I wanted to tell. A short story became something larger. Characters wanted more room. Their histories deepened, the world around them expanded, and what might once have fit neatly into a handful of pages became a novel—and eventually, a much larger story.

Looking back, I don’t see separate paths through art, poetry, design, and fiction quite as much as I once did. They’re different ways of doing something I’ve been doing since I was fifteen: imagining what might be, and then trying to make it visible.

Creativity at Work

For much of my adult life, creativity has existed alongside a very different-looking career. I’ve worked across banking, insurance, and consulting, with much of my professional life centered on business analysis, project and program management, transformation, and helping organizations navigate complex change.

On the surface, that world can seem far removed from poetry, painting, or writing fantasy. But I’ve never really seen it that way.

At the same time, my professional career has profoundly influenced the way I approach creative work. It taught me how to take a large, complicated idea and break it down into something achievable. How to research, organize, plan, solve problems, adapt when the original plan stops working, and—perhaps most importantly—keep going when something becomes more difficult than expected. Those skills turn out to be remarkably useful when writing a novel.

There are spreadsheets behind some of my fictional worlds. Timelines. Research notes. Character histories. Systems and dependencies. There are moments when writing looks suspiciously like managing a very unruly transformation program—except the stakeholders are fictional and considerably less interested in governance.

The exchange works both ways.

My creative life has made me a more imaginative problem-solver. My professional life has given my creativity structure, discipline, and the confidence to turn ideas into finished things. I don’t think of those as two separate versions of myself anymore.

One taught me to imagine what might be.
The other taught me how to build it.

Writing Between Worlds

Much of my current creative work is centered on fantasy fiction—stories involving ancient magic, hidden histories, inherited wounds, fractured timelines, and the uneasy boundary between fate and choice. I’m particularly drawn to character-driven fantasy: the kind where magic may shape the world, but human choices determine what happens within it.

Writing longer fiction has also changed the way I think about storytelling. Characters develop inconvenient opinions. Villains acquire histories you didn’t give them permission to have. Minor details become mythology. A mysterious magical object suddenly requires rules, origins, languages, cosmology, and several thousand years of history. And sometimes the story simply refuses to become the story you originally intended to write.

I’ve learned not to fight that quite so much. Because somewhere between planning and discovery—between structure and imagination—the story often begins revealing what it was really about all along.

Plot Holes & Progress

That wonderfully unpredictable process eventually became Plot Holes & Progress, my writing blog about creating, revising, questioning, dismantling, and occasionally rescuing a novel.

It isn’t a collection of formulas for writing the perfect book. It’s a look behind the curtain. I write about characters who ignore me, plots that change direction, worldbuilding that gets out of hand, subplots that demand promotions, timelines that refuse to align, the strange emotions surrounding finishing a manuscript, and the discoveries that happen somewhere between the first sentence and the final revision.

Through Plot Holes & Progress, I share both the craft and the chaos of writing—not from the perspective of someone claiming to have mastered it, but as a writer still discovering what each story has to teach me.

Why I Write

I don’t believe every piece of writing needs to provide an answer. Sometimes a poem simply asks me to notice. Sometimes a story gives me somewhere else to stand for a while. Sometimes fantasy allows me to explore very human questions at a safer distance—through impossible worlds, ancient magic, and characters facing choices I recognize even when their circumstances are nothing like my own.

That is the territory I keep returning to. The spaces between certainty and wonder. Between darkness and light. Between memory and possibility. Between who I have been and who I might still become.

Perhaps that’s what connects everything I create—poetry, fiction, art, ideas, and whatever peculiar thing appears next.

I’m interested in the moment when something familiar opens, just slightly, and reveals another possibility.

There is usually a story waiting there. And, if Minnie has anything to say about it, probably tea.

Stay & Wander a While

If you’ve found your way here because you love stories, poetry, creativity, strange ideas, or the occasionally chaotic business of making things, you’re very welcome.

Explore my writing, visit Plot Holes & Progress, or simply wander for a while.

There are always more stories taking shape.