When I was five, my kindergarten teacher sent me home with a note on my report card that said I talked too much. When I was fifteen, a teacher wrote on a progress report that I was “reticent.” As an adult I find myself somewhere between those extremes.
For the last six years my husband, Stephen, and I have lived in East Nashville, Tennessee, a neighborhood the New York Times has called “a hub for [the city’s] culturally savvy.” What this means is that it’s the sort of place where you’re likely to see some serious Sally Jessy glasses, skinny co-eds trying to wear leggings as pants, and shaggy-haired dads with a toddler in one arm, a pink wet bag in the other, and full-sleeve tattoos on both—frequently in a location offering “artisanal/housemade/local” something-or-other. As of late you're also likely to see Mercedes Benz parked on the street in front of a half-million dollar duplex, so our days here have become numbered.
I spent the first three years of college majoring in computer science while taking as many philosophy and creative writing classes as I could cram into my schedule without requesting an overload. Then I joined the student newspaper staff, met the man who would become my husband, and changed my major. I now hold a bachelor’s degree in communications and an MBA.
I worked in marketing for nearly a decade, most recently managing digital marketing efforts for a large regional not-for-profit organization. After a six-month career sabbatical at the Nashville Software School, I now work for a large healthcare technology company as a software developer.
My hobbies include reading far too much, keeping (and plowing through) very long to-do lists, building playlists for whichever fiction project I have in progress at the moment, and obsessively checking weather reports in preparation for my next run.