Three Times
Three times the universe decided to baptize me in rain on what was supposed to be my free day. Intern lunches, tattoo sessions, Harley rides, and sudden storms—it turned into a test of grit, irritation, and freedom all at once.
One Week In
After more than five years working from home, I walked back into the office. Day one, rookie mistake: no lunch. My boss asked if I liked spicy food. Minutes later I was sweating through a cup of ghost pepper noodles, stubbornly slurping the broth he told me not to drink. And I’d do it again.
That Too Is Legacy
A late-night ride, a wave of doubt, and a message from an old Navy friend—reminding me the seeds of legacy were planted long before I knew I’d need them.
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.