The dogs barking are a metaphor for the nature of all things—the rhythm of life, the letting go of the illusion that we have any real control.

We take on roles and jobs that slowly suffocate the creative spark we were born with. The juice. The muse. The quiet, insistent voice that says, This is what you’re here to make.

I’m grateful to still be doing work I love, with authors I respect, in an industry that continues to evolve. If you’re creating something for 2026, whether it’s a book, a press, a program, or a new chapter in your creative career, I’d love to hear about it.

"This blog is part of my writing studio. This is where I can invite others to share their perspective and to consider where my views on humanity meets theirs."

At the heart of writing or sketching or creating anything is the desire to connect or to better see and understand the world we live in.

...creatives need daily practice. Not to create something to sell, but rather to feed the creative spirit. To keep it alive.

This is one of the hardest truths to write: achievement doesn't heal childhood trauma. You can build a beautiful life, earn degrees, create a family, and still feel like that displaced child inside.

More than 20 years ago when I started writing my memoir, I had no idea I would one day be the mother to a son and two daughters. And that despite growing up without a mother, father or family I would eventually find my way to becoming the kind of mother I wish I'd had. The kind of mother who loves without condition and who cherishes every precious moment. I worry, perhaps too often about the imperfect things. The divorce that couldn't be avoided. My history as an abused foste

To be truly alive, we must mourn joyfully all things that reach an inevitable end: seconds, minutes, hours, heartbeats, embraces, kisses