Originally from northern lower Michigan, I’ve lived on Florida’s Gulf Coast for more than two decades. (That doesn’t make me a native. It makes me a geographical in-law.)
I come from a long line of resourceful, energetic entrepreneurs. We don’t sit still well. Not at all.
I’m a voracious reader, and my work with museum exhibits inspires the pursuit of some fairly eclectic hobbies, including architectural salvage and antique hunting, finding talented people who work with vintage fabrics, wood, and metal finishes, and tracking down elusive things that make immersive environments sing. We’re a small partnership. I get to experience the whole process from start to finish.
I’m convinced I have the best job in the world, and the one most difficult to pin down and describe in an elevator speech. Why? Because when we visit a completed exhibit, and you ask me, “What did you do here?” you’ll probably get a look like my daughter’s goldfish gives me. In whatever you’re looking at, there is likely not a single square inch that I haven’t helped measure, visualize, demolish, install, or finish. In more than 15 years, I can honestly say I haven’t had a bad day at work. Challenging, yes. Bad, no. You’ll never hear me say this: “There’s got to be something better out there.”
I’ve been writing since I could hold a pen or pencil. Really. Ask my mother, who faithfully saved some of those early clumsy pieces. Ask my lifelong best friend, who often appeared in their riveting plot lines and endured reading them.
I cannot imagine a life that doesn’t include words. As a ghost writer, I’m honored to work with a wonderful eclectic group of visionary leaders and really interesting people, helping them tell their stories. They are simply the best at what they do. I love their talent, and their expertise, and their confidence in me. They do things I cannot imagine doing. I give them a written voice.