
I never set out to become a memoirist.
I became one because life kept handing me stories that demanded to be told.
Between cancer, caregiving, loss, and rebuilding life again and again, I’ve discovered that hope isn’t found in perfect endings.
It’s found in the courage to keep going.
Today I write to remind ordinary people that they are capable of
extraordinary lives.


When I’m not writing, you’ll usually find me somewhere in the Columbia River Gorge, or in Cabo with my husband, coffee nearby,
and another story taking shape.
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