Why I Write: From Cancer Conversations to Fictional Chaos

When I wrote Voices of Cancer, I didn’t set out to become an “author.” I just wanted to tell the truth—raw, uncomfortable, necessary truth. That book opened doors I never expected. It connected me with patients, caregivers, survivors, and yes, even strangers who said, “This is what I’ve been feeling, but didn’t know how to say.”

Then came Voices of LGBTQ+, born from the same place: a need to hold space for stories that don’t always get told. It didn’t receive the same warm welcome—haters are loud—but I stand by every word.

And now… The Placeholder. Fiction, finally. It’s messy and sexy and surprisingly honest in its own way. It’s about boxed wine, bad choices, and what happens when you avoid your own grief by scrolling dating apps at midnight. It’s a different kind of truth—but still one worth telling.

Coming soon is Beneath the Canopy, a middle-grade historical fiction novel based on stories passed down by my in-laws, who were children in the Netherlands during World War II. It was recently picked up by Pegasus Elliot Mackenzie Publishers, Ltd. in the UK, and I’m honored to see it heading toward shelves soon.

I’m also deep into an upmarket fiction manuscript—ninety thousand words of layered storytelling about an unconventional group of friends asked to raise a child together after her mother’s unexpected death. It’s about grief, chosen family, and the messy, beautiful ways we show up for each other when life doesn’t go to plan.

If you’ve read any of my work—thank you. If you’re new here—welcome. I write to make people feel a little less alone.