Inside My Noggin
Step inside my weird little world and find out what goes on in the idea factory (that’s my brain, by the way). I’d like to thank a daily caffeine overload, chronic overthinking, twisted humor, and a runaway imagination for the following programming.
I haven’t stopped yapping since approximately 1991,
and I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon. I love exploring the world around me and making sense of it through my words. I find so much inspiration in people’s peccadilloes and charming little foibles. I’ve learned lessons from the most unlikely characters and through some incredibly trying circumstances. These natural inclinations have made me the storyteller I am today, and I can’t wait to continue helping individuals and brands bring their narratives to life.
I’ve been at this for a hot second.
I was never one of those kids who didn’t know what they wanted to be when they grew up.
This picture is from a library class when I was 10 years old. My grandfather jotted down whatever lengthy presentation I was boring my class with, and apparently I had just learned a few new words and wanted to show them off (solemn — impressed, honestly). I am obsessed with communication and how we use it to transfer meaning to one another.
If I could sing it all, I would, but God forgot to give me a good set of pipes. That’s why since the age of seven I’ve carried a notebook and pen with me everywhere I go (when I remember to).
Here’s how I’d tell you what I’m all about.
Ask me what I do for a living and watch me stall like a Corolla in January, buffer like a 2009 laptop, and definitely give you a different answer than I did last year.
Reporter. Communications director. PR and marketing manager. Copyeditor. Copywriter. I’ve worn every one of those hats, and none of them fit on their own. So I landed on “professional storyteller,” a title vague enough to be safe and specific enough to be true. (It also fits on a business card, and less weird than “it’s complicated.”)
There was never a master plan. There was just a habit of walking through the next interesting door and a stubborn belief that I wasn’t lost, I was collecting breadcrumbs. Thirteen-plus years later, the zigzag turned out to be the advantage. I know how a sentence lands from every seat in the room: I’ve done the interviews and sent the pitches. I’ve written the headlines, bled red ink on other people’s pages (and had mine bled on), and tweaked the copy until it was either perfect or due. I’ve pitched the campaigns, then dug through the data to find out who actually cared. And if they didn’t, I found out how to make them.
My writing education came from vintage Rolling Stone issues stacked in my dorm closet, composition notebooks that eventually evicted my shoes from under the bed, and a decade-long devotion to Tom Wolfe, patron saint of white suits and exclamation points. New Journalism taught me that reporting can read like a story and still survive a fact-check. If a piece can’t hold a dinner party’s attention and hold up under scrutiny, I don’t trust it.
And we need writing that holds up, because the internet is a buffet where half the food is fake. Too much falsehood, too much nonsense, and just enough overwhelm to make you close the tab and consider a cabin in the woods. I want to work with people who cut through that, ideally a crew of digital disruptors who are also do-gooders. (Yes, I know that’s a unicorn. I’m patient, and I packed snacks.)
The book that explains how I work better than I can is Robert Pirsig’s Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. His big idea: the logical, take-the-engine-apart mind and the gut-level, just-feel-the-ride mind aren’t enemies. Quality lives where they shake hands. That’s my whole job. Facts get you attention, and soul gets you to keep it. Without both, you’ve got a spreadsheet with a thesaurus or a gorgeous poem nobody can find.
Pirsig also argued that fixing the world starts “in one’s own heart and head and hands,” then works outward. I took that personally.
…So here’s the plan: write copy that moves people, build brands with a conscience, and run social communities people are actually glad to belong to. Saving the world is a big ask for a random Tuesday, but changing one person’s mind (or day) is totally doable.
TL;DR: The breadcrumbs led here. I’ve put my heart, head, and hands into big brands and huge campaigns, nonprofits with something urgent to say, and people whose stories deserve a front page. I love this work, and now I want to lead it at a senior creative level. Whatever the title says, if the work is good and the people are better, let’s talk.
A curious mind makes for a better story.
I’ve always believed that good storytelling begins with paying attention. To people, to conversations, to the little things most of us overlook. I love soaking up information, whether through interviewing, observing, reading, or simply existing in the world with an unreasonable number of questions.
I never want to stop exploring new creative avenues or entertaining the occasional metaphysical rabbit hole. But more than anything, I want to keep finding the whimsy and wonder in everything. It’s what makes life interesting, and it’s what makes a story worth telling.
That’s the kind of curiosity I bring to everything I write, whether it’s a personal essay or a campaign for a global brand.
Simple, right? Maybe it’s best you just click below and see for yourself.
Some doodles and little daydreams.✨🌌🪐💭
