I write the stories I needed when I was younger, ones that don't flinch away from the hard stuff. Eating disorders, late autism diagnosis, medication, recovery that isn't linear, and the exhausting, unglamorous work of just trying to be alive in a body that feels like a stranger.

Enough is my first novel. It's set in central Minnesota, where I live, and it's about a woman learning that being small was never the same as being safe.

When I'm not writing, I'm probably overthinking, listening to music, or watching horror movies, or driving my car way too fast.

If my words make you feel even a little less alone, that's all I ever wanted.

Find me here. I read every comment.