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.
I live with my husband, Stephen, 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. (It’s like Portlandia’s laid-back Southern cousin.)
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. I am currently on a six-month career sabbatical at the Nashville Software School, deep-diving into the craft of software development.
My hobbies, besides signing up for 5Ks and daydreaming about fish pose during sun salutations, 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 the spring and summer.