I’m a Midwestern journalist who is passionate about building new platforms, amplifying minority voices in media and sharing unheard perspectives. Oh, and raising a small flock of chickens.


That’s the first line on my resume, and you might be wondering why those things interest me (especially the chickens—a lot of people wonder about the chickens). Here’s a little more about me.

In 2008, I found myself working late on a student newspaper layout, trying to beat the printer’s deadline. While I always had an interest in writing and talking (non-stop), that busy evening with Adobe InDesign made it clear that journalism really was my passion. Unfortunately, the economy—and the journalism industry—crashed the same year I entered college. So, like a resourceful student, I attended a great community college close to home, saving up along the way to attend the University of Missouri School of Journalism (hence my commitment to mentoring and helping community college students who also have an interest in communications).

When I got to Mizzou, I realized that there was so much to learn and do, and within a few years, I was out the door with a bachelor’s and master’s degree, hoping to change the world. Since then, I’ve been padding around rural regions of Missouri, working with start-up publications and 100-year-old community newspapers that still cover local dog pageants. My work is not always groundbreaking, but it means a lot to the Midwesterners who feel forgotten about in a “flyover state.” And that means a lot to me, because I believe that every community has the right to quality coverage.

Beyond local work, I also contribute to other publications, such as mental_floss.com, The Riveter and Refinery29, and provide copyediting services for multiple companies. Many of my writing and reporting interests revolve around women and minorities in agriculture, self-sustainability/food access. I also have bylines for general pop culture pieces.

But what about those chickens? Most journalists live in big cities. I chose to live in the middle of nowhere, happily content with freelancing and raising a small flock of chickens with endearing names. It’s hard to write about middle America without walking the walk—er, feeding the hens.