Welcome to es|brath!
I am a full-time freelance writer, artist and all-around creative class geek. I currently reside in the incredibly gorgeous — pun intended — town of Ithaca, N.Y., with my beloved four-legged demon Bunny.
I hold a bachelor’s degree from the San Francisco Art Institute, where I focused on painting, photography and screen printing. After five years spent without the crunch of bright fall leaves beneath my feet, smell of snow on a crisp winter night or the maddeningly addictive drug they put in all Dunkin Donuts products to keep you coming back day and night, I hightailed it back to the East Coast.
Originally from New Jersey, I spent a year in Boston, perfecting my pronunciation of rounded Rs and starting my graduate degree at Mass. Art. Over a serendipitous dinner of Buddha’s delight, however, I realized I’d gone astray, and needed to refocus my energy, and education, on my other true love: the written word.
The former editor of both my high school and college newspapers, I made my way to the frozen tundra fondly known as Siberacuse, where I earned my master’s degree in journalism from Syracuse University’s S.I. Newhouse School of Public Communications. While at Newhouse I took part in traveling to, researching and writing Looking for Lockerbie, a collaborative book on Lockerbie, Scotland, and completed my capstone as an intern in London at the National Campaign for the Arts.
Returning to the states, I made an aborted attempt at community newsgathering, toiling in Punxsutawney, Pa., for three short months until I learned the real truth about the groundhog, which horrifies me to this day. Trudging back to snow country, I took a job at an alternative-weekly newspaper, where I traded conspiracy theories with my fellow so-called lefty-pinko socialists and worked diligently to craft compelling, newsworthy articles about the people, places and events of Central New York.
Two years later, I packed my bags and headed to the City of Brotherly Love, where I continued to hone my writing for publications including the Philadelphia Inquirer and Philadelphia Weekly.
The story gets a little weird from there, because I wound up in Roanoke then Charlottesville, Virginia. In a camper. In the middle of the mountains… That complete tale is forthcoming in my nonfiction book A Permanent Vacation to Nowhere (or at least that’s the working title!)