The Official Bio… and the Real One
We all have two stories: the polished one we share on stages and websites… and the one that lives quietly underneath. Today I want to share both.
The Official Bio
Here is my official author bio, well one of them. This is the one I use when submitting essays for publication. It’s accurate. It’s neat. It fits in the space I’m given.
But most lives refuse to stay that tidy.
Behind every official bio is a human story—one with turning points, heartbreaks, big questions, and quiet wins. Here’s mine.
The Non-Official Bio (The Real Story)
If you really want to know who I am, here it is:
I’ve been writing since I was five years old, mostly because I didn’t know how else to hold all the feelings inside me. I made it through high school by scribbling tragic poems in spiral notebooks and scraps of paper. These poems that made sense only to me, made my parents worry about the state of my functioning, but somehow kept me afloat.
And then, for about fifteen years, I stopped writing altogether. Those years were some of the most disconnected and unhappy of my life. Losing touch with my words felt like losing touch with myself.
Eventually, I found my way back…first through blog posts, then through more sad poems, and slowly through stories that helped me understand who I was becoming.
For a long time, I didn’t feel safe in my own life. I was told—by people whose voices mattered more than they should have—that my feelings weren’t real or important. I learned to keep everything inside. I was afraid to write things down because seeing them on the page would make them undeniable.
But writing was what ultimately gave me back my safety.
Putting my experiences into words validated them. Naming my feelings made them real. And from there, things began to shift. Writing helped me find myself again, and I’ve been gently teaching others to do the same ever since.
Grief lives in my work because it lives in my life.
My kids’ dad died by suicide when they were 7 and 10, and I’ve spent years trying to guide them through a grief that I was also drowning in. Not gracefully. Not perfectly. But honestly. That loss changed me, and it changed the way I write. It made me speak more openly about mental health, not because it was easy, but because silence felt like the more dangerous choice.
Somewhere inside that long chapter, I was diagnosed with an anxiety disorder that brought me to my knees—physically and emotionally. Recovery wasn’t linear, it wasn’t quick, and it’s not over. But it taught me a compassion I didn’t know I had.
All of this, every messy, heartbreaking, hopeful part of it, is why I created Open Sky Stories.
I wanted a place where people could write without fear.
A place where stories could unfold gently.
A place where writers could feel witnessed, supported, and genuinely excited about their own voices.
So now I read people’s work with empathy and enthusiasm. I create community for anyone who doesn’t want to write alone. I offer 1:1 mentorship for writers who need accountability, encouragement, or simply someone to say, “Your story matters.”
Because I believe writing should feel like a homecoming, not a performance.
Because I believe we heal a little every time we put honest words on a page.
Because I believe stories can make us feel less lonely, less afraid, and more human.
That’s the real bio.
That’s how I got here.
And it’s why I do what I do.
A Closing Thought
As we build our official stories, we have to remember and trust our non-official ones.
That’s where the real truth is.
That’s where the real work begins.
Your Invitation
Try writing your own two bios: the official one and the real one.
Notice what each one says.
Notice what each one leaves out.
There’s power in the space between the two.
Stay Connected
If you want to know about upcoming workshops, groups, retreats, or 1:1 mentorships or you simply want to follow along as Open Sky Stories grows, sign up for my newsletter.
