I have been telling stories since before I knew that's what I was doing

My grandmother told them to me from memory. No books — just her voice, and the particular way she held the dark at bay with words. Her mother had done the same. I grew up thinking that was just what stories were for.

I didn't always know how right I was.

I spent years on the edges of creativity — studying it, teaching it, organizing it, supporting it — because I wasn't sure I was allowed to claim it for myself. I completed an MA and all my PhD coursework in literature. I wrote a thesis on women whose stories were told by others. It took me a while to notice the irony.

I'm claiming it now.

I started investigating haunted places. I think, underneath it all, I was looking for my mother.

When my mother Irmgard died in 2020 — after years of dementia, and years of me as her full-time caregiver — I found myself in a silence I didn't know what to do with. Grief is strange that way. It empties you out and then waits to see what you'll fill yourself with.

What I filled myself with was story.

Ravensong grew from that silence. Not as a plan, but as a necessity — the meeting place of everything I'd always been drawn to: myth, memory, loss, language, and the stubborn human need to make meaning out of the dark.

The re:Membering Project came first — a space to gather the scattered pieces of myself and begin again. Then Breath & Bone, where I could follow the older questions into folklore, ghosts, and ancestral memory. The paranormal podcast I'd co-hosted years before had planted a seed I didn't fully understand at the time. Those conversations about haunted places were really conversations about love and loss — conversations about whether the people we've lost are still, somehow, out there. Breath & Bone is where I keep asking that question.

And then there is Mike & Irmgard — because Irmgard's story deserved to be told honestly, and because I know Catie and I weren't the only ones doing it the hard way.

If you want to meet her properly, she's here. She's worth meeting.


🌿 A Few Things About Me

  • My staff consists of a small pack of dogs — Luna, Cyrus, and their pups. They are opinionated, underqualified, and absolutely essential to daily operations.

  • I speak English, German, and French, can puzzle through a little Dutch, and am slowly learning Spanish. Language, to me, is another form of listening — a way of understanding how different minds have named the same world.

  • I hold an MA and completed doctoral coursework in German literature, and once taught courses on fairy tales, goddess stories, and earth-based spirituality. Myth and meaning have always been my native languages.

  • I once co-hosted a paranormal podcast exploring the haunted histories of the Pacific Northwest. Those years taught me that every ghost story is, at heart, a story about love and memory — and they led me, eventually, to Breath & Bone.

  • I believe libraries are sacred, food is a love language, and stories might just be the oldest kind of spellwork.

  • My hair has been nearly every color under the sun. Transformation, it seems, is in my bones — and occasionally in my follicles.