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I used to think survival meant silence. If I stayed still long enough, small enough, I could slip through life unseen. Untouched. Safe....

I won’t lie: publishing a book feels a little like standing naked in public and handing strangers your diary. There’s a part of me that’s...

It took me seven years to get Broken Glass out of my head and into my hands. It started with a short story project I created with my...

Some of the most powerful things in Broken Glass  are never actually said. Not aloud. Not clearly. And not without consequence. That’s...

Every story starts quietly. Mine began the way a lot of things do—with a flicker of a thought I didn’t take seriously. A line of...

So… this is happening. After years (or months? who's counting?) of wrestling with plotlines, dodging distractions, and surviving on...