The short version is I make things and solve problems. The long version is much longer.

I call myself an “Everythingist.” You might have heard the terms “polymath” or “multipotentialite” or “Renaissance person.”

I’ve worked in media, nonprofit, tech, retail, food and beverage, and #agencylife. I’ve consulted for arts organizations, small businesses, podcasters, quasi-governmental entities, and with real estate and publishing professionals. I’m adaptable and I’m a life-long learner.

My words become articles, essays, website copy, newsletters, or blog posts. I also edit for other writers, specializing in nonfiction, academic (humanities), personal essay, memoir, and fiction. I develop executable action plans for events, programs, marketing campaigns, product launches, and the like. Also, my training manuals are legendary; one client called me the “queen of documentation,” which I will definitely put on a t-shirt someday.

While each clients’ situation is unique, everyone comes to me for one universal reason: They all need help.


Should you work with me?

The folx I work with fall into the magic, nougaty center of these three overlapping circles: People who know they need help. People who actually want help. People willing to do the work.

Not sure where you fall? Schedule a 20-minute chat to see if we’re a good match!

I pride myself on helping my clients get exactly what they need: I don’t recommend services that don’t help further your goals. And I only use my extensive network of designers, producers, advertisers, and other badasses if that’s actually useful. I do a lot of listening and planning, as well as training and handholding—we’re in this together, after all.

If I’ve done my job right, I may only work with a client once on any given project, though I’m always honored when clients bring me back for new projects or recurring events. 

To learn more about my professional background, please visit my profile on LinkedIn.

So, who am I?

When I was a kid and people asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, I said “famous.” Adults liked to correct me that “being famous” wasn’t a job, so I amended it to “writer” instead. 

Really, I was born to be a storyteller: My mother went into labor during a hurricane; I started talking before I could walk; I could read by age two and write full sentences by age four; I was voted “Most Dramatic” in my high school class; I’m a “lifelong Coloradan” who was technically born in Texas; I hail from a long line of Southern women, so I can talk circles around squares. It was fated that I tell stories—both others’ and my own.

I’m a parent, a backyard chicken-keeper, and an urban farmer (when our squirrel overlords allow it). I give history and public art tours of Denver. I have a bachelor’s in rhetoric. What the heck is that? Exactly. But I promise you, I’m fun at parties. My jokes are terrible. And my personal motto is: How can I help?

So, how can I help?