After every creative storm comes the quiet. A space that asks not for output, but for softness. I’ve learned the hard way that rest isn’t a reward; it’s part of the art itself. The body knows when it’s time to exhale, even when the mind still wants to sprint.

The week after filming always feels like the in-between of worlds… too full of echoes to be silent, too quiet to be loud. There’s also a special kind of fatigue that comes after pouring your whole soul into a story. It’s equal parts joy and ache. This time, instead of rushing to the next thing, I decided to treat recovery like another creative ritual… one made of slow mornings, cups of tea, and small acts of gentleness.

Directing is one of those roles that looks glamorous from the outside, but when you’re in the middle of it, it’s equal parts creativity, problem-solving, and trust. Every day on set is full of decisions—some small, some huge—all of which shape how a story comes alive on screen. Today, I want to share a few of my favorite lessons and tools with you—whether you’re a filmmaker yourself, a storyteller curious about the process, or just someone who loves a peek behind the scenes.

I used to think writing was supposed to be a solitary act — just me, my notebook, and maybe a cup of tea. And while there is magic in those quiet, tucked-away moments, I’ve learned something I wish I’d known years ago: stories grow stronger when they’re held in community. Whether it’s through a one-on-one brainstorming session with a trusted author friend, a late-night chat about plot holes, or connecting with readers at a book festival, I’ve discovered that building a writing community is less about selling books and more about finding your people.

Let me start by being honest: I don’t actually feel like I balance anything. Not in the color-coded, Pinterest-perfect kind of way. More often than not, I feel like I’m dancing between worlds… one moment writing dialogue in my head, the next remembering I forgot to thaw the chicken. I hyperfocus on my projects (especially when I’m in deep creative mode like filming), and when that happens… everything else drops.

I believe that magick is a living, breathing thread that runs through everything… through God, through nature, through story, and through you. And in a world that often prizes speed over stillness, logic over intuition, and productivity over presence… returning to our magick can feel radical. Rebellious, even.

Over the years, I’ve come to see storytelling not just as something I do, but as something that does something to me. It heals me. It guides me. It holds a mirror up to the parts of myself I’m still learning to love. Whether I’m writing novels, screenplays, or blog posts like this one, I often find that my most personal truths come through in the spaces between the words. Below, I’m answering a few questions about how storytelling has shaped my healing journey… not just creatively, but soulfully.

A reflection on unlearning performance-based healing and honoring resistance as the body’s sacred wisdom, not a mindset flaw.

Birthdays (or Birthiversarys) always make me a little reflective. They feel like a quiet threshold — a moment to stand between who I’ve been and who I’m becoming. This year, more than ever, I'm finding clarity not through grand declarations, but through the small, powerful sparks that light the way. Today, I want to share a few reflections that have been shaping my heart, my writing, and my way of moving through the world.