I grew up in the mountains of Appalachia, where I lived as much in my imagination as in the world around me. From the age of five, I was an avid reader, and almost as quickly, a creator — building my own worlds on paper, out loud, and somewhere deep inside my own head. When I won a poetry contest in seventh grade and my poem was published in a literary magazine, my suspicions were confirmed. Storytelling, for me, was never going to be just a hobby, and I knew deep down I wanted to be a writer.

That creative spirit carried me from the mountains to New York City. As an adolescent, I channeled my love of performance into musical theater, singing, and dance — and that same love of expression later helped my writing life take serious shape. At 20, I had a feature published in American Photo magazine, which led to bigger ambitions: an original magazine concept I pitched to Hachette-Filipacchi Media U.S., and later, an online magazine I founded for women navigating the workforce. Then I ran away from my own creativity and into the arms of capitalism.

For years, my own repression kept me from fully claiming my voice on the page; writing is part of stepping out of hiding and into the truth of who I am.

I’m drawn to the quiet, complicated places where people feel they have to hide who they really are. My work lives in the tension between who we’re told to be and who we are when no one is looking — the repression we learn young, the scripts we’re handed about success, love, and belonging, and the secret rebellions that happen when those scripts no longer fit.

I’m currently at work on my first novel, which explores forbidden love in the political world, where every choice is shadowed by public image, power, and the risk of being seen too clearly — and where telling the truth, even to yourself, can be the most dangerous act of all.

I live in Charleston, South Carolina, with my husband, daughter, and two four-legged writing partners who mostly just sleep on the floor next to my desk.