I am a professional curator of contradictions, a curious multitasker fertilized by caffeine and chaos.
As an Early Years teacher, I delight in never forgetting what it feels like to be a child, especially when I spot something playful—a reminder of childhood wonder long after most lose it.
My workspace is always a study in “artistic chaos”: obsessively organized in my mind, yet startlingly messy in reality. I know exactly where every sticky note, pen cap, and glitter-speck I have shoved (only sometimes, actually) —even if my husband’s sensitive-eye audit makes it seem like a museum of disorder.
I’m part dramaturge and part empath‑engineer, drawn to layered characters who evolve and surprise, preferring books and films that push the protagonist to shift in tone, shape, and motivation.
Despite having lived through my share of life’s dramas (my teen years, high‑school crush flops, early motherhood), I still cling to the phrase: “I’m done with lived drama—as long as my daughters’ drama doesn’t stop surprising me. I love them with all my heart!
My writing journey began early: I won a national young‑adult literature competition at 19 for a novel started on a 15‑year‑old’s spring break. I journal daily for catharsis and clarity—part emotional evacuation, part seesaw of growth.
I devour books on SEL, childhood development, and pedagogy. As an educator, I see my childhood memory as a superpower—essential to guiding little ones through storytelling, questions, and glittery art experiments.
Now rekindling my storytelling voice—after years of journaling—I combine classroom wisdom with strength‑training endorphins, coffee‑fueled mornings, crafty afternoon tangents, and thoughtful nighttime stock‑take of what it means to be a teacher, a mother, and a writer.
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