I started in writing. An MFA from a program that cared about sentence rhythm, about the right word, about why a story works when it does. That sensibility never left — it just found new rooms to work in.
Those rooms turned out to be universities. I spent 16 years in higher education helping institutions do hard things: communicate complex policy to anxious faculty, design learning experiences that people actually finished, navigate the organizational upheaval that comes when a new technology arrives and nobody knows what to do with it.
"Stop chasing interesting. Start choosing impact."
That line came from a specific moment. I was doing work that looked impressive — big scope, complex systems, genuinely hard problems. But I couldn't see the value I was delivering. The work had become interesting without being useful. When that gap gets wide enough, something has to give.
The layoff that followed wasn't a surprise. It was the conclusion of a misalignment that had been building for a while. And it turned out to be the most clarifying thing that had happened to me professionally. I knew exactly what I wanted to build next — and exactly what I didn't want to repeat.
Now I speak at conferences, consult with founders, create content for L&D practitioners, and co-host a podcast about meaning and work. The thread running through all of it is the same: there's a human story inside the complexity, and most people walk right past it. I help you find it.