
Servant To Self
The life of a writer is lonely—by choice. Solitude isn’t about shutting people out, it’s about diving deep into worlds and characters that demand every ounce of focus. This is why I disappear, and why I had to choose me.

Me and My Watch
Schedules are my kryptonite. Creativity is my fire. The problem? Writing for a living requires both—and nothing makes me want to curse humanity more than penciling “Thursday at 5” into my calendar.