When I was 10, stories were told in my room with Legos and stuffed animals, without rules, like a free-flowing chaos. In architecture school, the conflict between nurturing and stagnating the creative impulse grew. One All-nighter at the studio, I spilled instant coffee over my drawing. As I began to look for a paper towel, I took a deep breath and all I could do was sit there and stare, till a random thought came up. What is the center between chaos and order? Where forms can grow from nothing? When it's grounded yet can soar beyond? Designing made me feel isolated, unfocused, like an empty façade, and the center felt elusive.
Across the street from the studio, the drama club performed and I joined my senior year, acting in two plays. After graduating with a degree in Architectural Technology, I attended the American Academy of Dramatic Arts. While my classmates were being themselves in their "Slice of life," I skipped that step and went straight to being a character. But there was no script yet. How could I be a character, if I skipped being in my own skin first? I felt self-conscious on stage, a white lab coat, holding a clipboard. After year 1, I woke up one day, and opened a letter from my acting school informing me I was not invited back for year 2.
I began training at HB Studio and then became a member of the Greenhouse Ensemble. In one project, we experimented with dance, movement and dramatic writing to ask, "how do you fill absence with meaning?" and it became my first opportunity to write for theater. Since then, I’ve studied playwriting with Kim Sharp, Julie McKee, and Lia Romeo. I meet with the Greenhouse Ensemble Writer's Group, and began realizing that an idea whether it's good or bad starts on the surface, and takes time, patience, and risk to shed layers, and create something specific, surprising, and moving. Writing is a way of sculpting a question I don't know the answer to and my inner child who once told stories with Legos, has bargained to keep the creative hunch somewhat imperfect and reckless until the very end.