Rebels & Revenants

Dark times call for dark stories. The news cycle has been atrocious lately and I've been in a health funk. Rather than battling off the darkness with sunshine and flowers and decorative gourds, I've decided to sink in. I'm going to spend my October cozied up with gruesome tales of terror and see what comes of it. After all, the veil is thinning...

But yeah, okay, there will still be decorative gourds. And dahlias. I mean, I'm not gonna skip out on dahlias just because our government is full of creeps.

Right on time for this spooky season, the latest Sirens anthology Rebels & Revenants just arrived in the mail.

My story, "Flowers for Gretel Gideon", is about motherhood, rage, and resentment.

It's the darkest stuff I've ever written, and as I posted elsewhere, I'm worried about sharing it. But also? Fuck it. (Told you I'm in a mood.) We need more stories about mothers and motherhood and the absurd expectations we have for women.

I've bee…


Hello sweet ones,

My September has been a beautiful and frustrating month. Our Seattle skies are brilliant blue and our leaves are burning bright, but I've been laid up by a terrible cough and mostly trapped at home. I've stolen a few fun nights and dazzling days, but overall I'm impatient to feel healthy again.

Writing can be a lonely affair, even in the best of times, and sickness means that I've had to pass up some opportunities for social gatherings, beach walks, and coffee dates. The good news is I've had a bit of new company...

Most of you have already met and/or heard about our beautiful scruffle-pup, Luna. She's a Miniature Schnoodle, a Schnauzer and Poodle mix, and joined us in late July. She's been a bundle of love and trouble ever since.

I confess, initially I thought I'd made a terrible mistake. Multiple trips to the emergency vet, house-breaking follies, and constant worry about choking, poison, and digestive hazards made me more than a lit…

Summer Smoke and Story Fuel

Hello loves,

As summer winds to a close, our beloved Pacific Northwest is blanketed in a thick cloud of wildfire smoke. The skies are grey and hazy. The Seattle skyline is a ghost of its former self. The mountains have vanished. Normally this time of year is all blue skies and beach time. We wait patiently through months of mist and rain for our precious summer months. Not this year.

Forgive me some theatrics, but I can't help feeling like there's something very wrong, something wicked on the wind. Probably this is more to do with my latest mood and work than anything else, and yet...

I recently wrote my first horror piece, a short story titled "Flowers for Gretel Gideon", that will hopefully be published in a Sirens benefit anthology in the coming months. It was surprisingly easy to write and cathartic to share with some of my beta readers (thank you!). More on that when I have info.

I've also been working on revising a pre-apocalyptic novel about the slow drown…

In the Weeds

Hi loves,

I hope this message finds you well and enjoying your summer. It's been an incredibly busy time for my family. We've traveled, hosted beloved guests, celebrated the end of school, and attended several fun-filled events. In fact, our frenzied pace doesn't show signs of slowing any time soon. I'm writing now from the skies, on my way to Santa Fe to celebrate my mother's 70th birthday. One of a few more celebratory trips scheduled for the next month.

In between the big shiny happenings of the summer, I've been revising a novel, helping friends with their writing projects, and considering next steps in my own creative career. Not all of this has been easy.

You might remember that I signed with my first agent in March 2017. It was a thrilling and joyous experience. I'm still grateful for the energy and hope that opportunity sparked. Unfortunately, our relationship didn't work out and I chose to terminate my contract this past week. It was a difficul…

Weight and Color

Hello Dear Ones,

Spring is here, pulling her tides farther and deeper than her predecessor. I'm spending more and more time at my beloved little beach. Wandering, searching, staring off in the distance. It hasn't been an easy year so far, but the older I get, the more I recognize that "easy year" is a fantasy. There will simply always be some amount of struggle, loss, and illness to trouble the waters. It isn't wise to hold too fast to peace. Better to let her come and go, come and go, like those glorious spring tides.

Recently, on one of my wanderings, I found a lead fishing weight buried in the mud.

It was easy to be reminded of the worry and grief this object might represent. The weight of things. The solidity of reality. And yet, it wasn't a burden. There was something satisfying about its heft in my hand, and its smooth, spherical shape, as if to say "I know what I am".

Soon thereafter, on another overcast day, I found two extraordinarily beaut…