My Journey

I am a self-published author who has been writing for as long as I can remember.

From early on, even when it was just scribbles and half-formed stories, I was drawn to putting thoughts into words.

I would go to my older brother and share every idea I had. He listened. He encouraged me. He was the first person who made me feel like my words mattered.

I have always loved poetry. To me, poetry is music, and music is poetry. It is meant to be heard, felt, and carried.

Writing has helped me through some of the darkest moments in my life. Even now, my mind is always full of ideas waiting for a place to land.

As a kid, I wrote constantly, especially when I was adjusting to something new. I was always that student talking with the English teacher, lingering a little longer than I needed to.

In 7th grade, one of those teachers gave me a hardcover notebook and told me to treat it like the first real home for my poems.

In 8th grade, I had a poem published for the first time.

Then life happened. High school came, things changed, and writing became quieter. It never fully left, but it was not always something I held onto.

After a significant loss, writing became my life raft.

I took a poetry class where a teacher told me to always keep a notebook with me. For a while, I did.

In college, I joined a poetry club. That is where I learned writing was meant to be shared. I experienced slam poetry for the first time. I did a few small events, but I was not sure if I belonged there.

Life got busy again. Something felt missing.

The notebook turned into notes on my phone. Quick thoughts, fragments, pieces that did not always make sense to anyone but me.

It took time to come back to writing consistently. But when I did, it felt like I was no longer alone.

Since then, my relationship with writing has grown into something steady. I do not need it every day, but I know it will be there whenever I return.

My older brother is still my greatest inspiration. He was the first to read my work and the first to ask for copies.

For years, I thought about sharing my writing, but I held back. I thought it was not perfect.

Every once in a while, I would look up how to publish, then close the tab.

Until one day, I did not.

I learned the process, created my own cover, and started looking through everything I had written, old and new.

What I found was not just scattered pieces. It was a collection.

Not something meant to be read all at once, but something meant to be experienced over time.

That is where Shards, and its companion works, began.

Creative Process

I will be honest. My process is messy.

My life is messy, and so is my writing.

I have incomplete thoughts in notebooks, sticky notes, documents, and my phone.

Ideas show up unexpectedly. Sometimes they feel complete. Sometimes they are just a feeling I do not understand yet.

I have started stories I love and still do not know how they end.

I have shared work with people who ask what happens next, and sometimes the honest answer is that I do not know yet.

My process is not structured. It is intuitive.

Ideas come in the middle of the night, in the shower, or in quiet moments I did not plan for.

I have learned to trust that.

I may be chaotic, but I would not change it.

As long as the words speak to me, I will find a place to put them, whether that is paper, a screen, or whatever is nearby.

The important part is that they are given a home.

Thank you for joining my chaos.