Why I Write About Silence

There’s a certain kind of silence that lives inside women; the kind that isn’t empty, but full.

I’ve spent years writing around that silence, trying to name it. In the hospital rooms where I’ve worked, in the quiet moments after my kids fall asleep, in the spaces between caring for others and remembering myself. My stories, whether they’re set in 1700s Salem or a modern ICU, always seem to circle the same truth: women who endure quietly aren’t weak. They’re surviving. And sometimes, surviving is the bravest thing we do.

Writing has always been my way of listening; to history, to myth, to the women who came before us and the ones who still feel unseen. Even Then began as a whisper, a story about what happens when silence becomes too heavy to bear. Daughter of the Gallows came next, giving voice to a girl history tried to erase. Each project, in its own way, asks the same question: what does it cost to be heard?

This space will hold pieces of that journey: reflections on writing, fragments of poetry, the intersections of motherhood, history, and hope. I’m not sure yet what shape it will take, but I know this: I’m done whispering.

Here’s to stories that speak, even when we’re not ready to.

If you’ve ever found yourself quieting your own voice to make someone else comfortable, you’re not alone. I hope you’ll stay for the stories to come.