I come from a culture of fierce, resilient women, but you might be surprised to know that they were not feminists or writers or poets. They expressed their creativity in ways that were traditional in Appalachia at that time. They quilted, sewed, embroidered, knitted, baked, cooked, and sang in church. None, as far as I know, kept journals full of poems or stories, but they told stories very well. I was immersed in a rich oral tradition of folklore, family histories, and "old wives' tales" that fueled my imagination and rooted me to the land and the people, but it also gave me wings.  

​

Leaving the mountains of North Georgia for the Atlanta suburbs, I majored in English Literature and went on for a Master’s in Professional Writing at Kennesaw State University. Then I spent over a decade of my life as a technical writer, which taught me plenty about process improvement and instructional design. It also taught me more than I wanted to know about surviving as a young woman in the heavily male-dominated steel industry.    

​

Seeking a community I couldn't seem to find in mainstream religion, I circled on full moons with other women who felt the same way I did—women who were waking up from patriarchal oppression and reclaiming their autonomy. We were deeply inspired by the foremothers of the Goddess movement—Starhawk, Z. Budapest, Margot Adler, and others—to envision a world where the sacred feminine is honored and respected. Our rituals empowered us and changed our lives.

 

Starting with a blog in 2010, I expanded into social media with a focus on poetry, women’s issues, and feminist spirituality. Pursuing my own artistic passions made me want to encourage other women to do the same, and in 2024, I turned Quill of the Goddess into a small company focused on publishing and coaching. 

​

Being a writer in service to the Goddess means surrendering to the creative process. It means trusting in the mystical power of poetry, getting out of the way, and allowing it to flow. It means giving voice to what has been silenced, because it is time for women to tell the truth about our lives—and it is time for that truth to be our healing medicine.

 

I do not see myself as the only quill, but rather as one quill, one voice, one of the Goddess’s many devoted bards and priestesses.

​

My hope and intention for all of my work—whether it be writing, teaching, or facilitating circles—is that it will help us to reconnect to the parts of ourselves that may have gotten lost or buried in a patriarchal world. I am here to support the rising of the Goddess within and without.