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I was always drawn to writing. Something about the words that filled magazines and books, and later movie scripts, always allured me — the cadence, the architecture of a sentence, the way a story could exist in the mind long after the page or screen went dark. That fascination followed me into college, where I served as the social media editor and entertainment writer for Pulse, my campus magazine. It was there that I learned to balance voice and deadline, to engage readers, and to translate the energy of culture into words.

After graduation, that curiosity carried me into the entertainment world. I spent years learning how the industry operated from the ground up: selling merch at Stubb’s BBQ, working security, waiting tables, and eventually leading teams at the Alamo Drafthouse. Watching stories come alive in real time — the chaos, the collaboration, the tiny sparks of magic — taught me more about narrative than any classroom ever could.

When I started writing professionally, I realized I didn’t just want to report or summarize; I wanted to probe, to interrogate, to find the pulse beneath the story. I host Movie Talk, a film discussion series where I dig into new releases with guests and audiences, and contribute entertainment and sports coverage for KVEO-TV. I’ve also spent more than two years fact-checking for national magazines, honing an exacting eye for detail and a respect for precision in every line.

I gravitate toward stories that are messy, human, and alive — the ones that resist tidy conclusions. I like tracing the small choices that shape a narrative, the moments of beauty or absurdity that linger after the lights go up or the credits roll. Even outside work, I carry that lens: I watch movies obsessively, revisit old favorites, track cultural currents, and look for the stories that deserve attention.

Writing, for me, has always been about that pursuit — chasing the weight, the rhythm, and the strange, unpredictable life of a story, and hoping someone else will feel it the same way I do.