It started with a tiger.
In third grade, my teacher assigned us to write and illustrate a story. I wrote about an African girl trying to save a tiger in the wild (spoiler: she did save it!).. Then, my teacher bound all the stories, complete with a cover, and put them on the library shelf next to all the other books in the school library.
Then something clicked.
It wasn’t just about writing for myself anymore. I was sharing my story with everyone.
After that, I couldn’t stop. I started writing stories and passing them out to my friends at recess. There was no internet, no Microsoft Word, just hand-written pages and a crew of classmates asking, “What happens next?” I’d go home, write more chapters, include my friends in the story, and bring it back the next day.
By fifth grade, when we had to write down what we wanted to be when we grew up in our elementary school yearbook, I didn’t hesitate: Writer.
While everyone else wrote down doctors, lawyers, astronauts, and musicians, I knew exactly what I was supposed to do.
But then life happened.
I got older, and the voices got louder.
Do this and not that.
Do what is acceptable.
Pursue what is safe.
So I went to college and majored in pre-law, thinking that was the responsible path. It turns out that I hated arguing in front of people (I was painfully shy). But I loved hiding in the law library, writing briefs and crafting the narratives lawyers would weave in front of juries.
Even then, I was telling stories. I just didn’t realize it yet.
After the legal career didn’t pan out, I spent years wandering, trying to figure out what I wanted, wondering if I’d made the wrong choice. I kept my creativity alive in the margins, but I wasn’t pursuing what my younger self already knew.
Then everything changed when I had my daughters.
I was going through old boxes and found that fifth-grade yearbook. There it was, in my own handwriting:
Writer.
And it hit me like a freight train.
How could I tell my girls to chase their dreams if I wasn’t chasing mine?
That’s when I made the choice. I wasn’t going to let fear, outside expectations, or “shoulds” keep me from the thing I’d always known I was meant to do. I started writing again—this time with intention, with purpose, with the full force of someone who’d finally stopped fighting themselves.
I finally listened to the third-grade creative self.
I write speculative fiction books under multiple pen names featuring kick-ass heroines, exotic locations, and unforgettable characters of color. Our diverse communities deserve to see themselves in the stories they love to read.
As a Senior Content Strategist with over 13 years of experience, I help brands uncover their authentic stories and transform them into content that drives real business results. I work at the intersection of creativity and strategy—crafting thought leadership that establishes authority and developing high-converting campaigns that turn prospects into customers.
Through my Substack newsletter, Not Just a Token, I discuss diversity and representation in fiction, film, and media. I bring both a fan’s passion and a strategist’s eye to conversations about who gets to be the hero, the villain, the love interest, and the complex human. This is my activism in the entertainment space.
I also create downloadable workbooks explicitly designed for writers who need to wrangle plot threads, create unforgettable characters, and build worlds without losing their minds. I took my experience writing and editing fiction to create systems that work into easy-to-follow resources that help you stay organized and focused.
So what’s the moral of this story?
I don’t regret the detours. They gave me stories to tell, lessons to share, and empathy for anyone who felt they were supposed to be doing something different.
Is that you?
If you’re feeling lost, doing “all the things” and wondering if you’re allowed to, if you’re worried about what other people think—your younger self already knows the answer.
That kid who loved to create before anyone told them it wasn’t practical? They were right.