Inkblot pictures, like the one above, fascinate me. Because kind of like the what-color-IS-it-dress from 2015, you can ask a dozen people what they see and hear a dozen unique responses. Each with a one-of-a-kind fingerprint, we each have a special lens through which we view the world: our own. I am a firm believer that I have something profound to learn from every single human I come into contact with – if I am open to the discovery. Throughout my life, the thing I’ve sought the most, the thing I’ve longed for the most, the thing I’ve treasured the most, the thing that gives me great pleasure is building connections. Because connections – whether they last five seconds or a lifetime – offer tangible hope.

Throughout the blog, there are stories of Joey, a homeless man who showed me what joy looked like, teachers whose smile convinced me I mattered, strangers changing my life by holding a random door open for me, miracles being discovered in the most asinine circumstances, and how the inheritance of kindness helps define who I am.

Meaningful connections stock my
survival toolkit and saved my life more than once.

Providing as many different avenues for connection as possible helps me reach people I might not otherwise have known because not everyone can connect in the same way. Just as we learn differently, we connect differently. After sending emails to several people who live in completely different parts of the world from me, after scheduling time to chat with people who live in the countries I’m writing about and after talking with survivors wo don’t feel comfortable using a hotline because they aren’t sure whether they’ll have to speak with a male or a female, I thought this might be a fun way to interact.

Let’s try a wild thing, shall we?

Clicking this link will take you to my booking page where you can schedule thirty minutes or an hour with me. We can chat by phone or by video – it costs you nothing.

Maybe you’re…

The Adventurous /

Spontaneous Type

You don’t know me.

You’ve never read a single book I’ve written and likely never will.

You’ve never read my blog until you found it completely by accident and something kept you on the page for longer than five point two seconds.

You see this and think, Ha! What a ridiculous idea… wonder what perfect strangers might talk about for thirty minutes?

That’s fine. Contrary to popular belief, I can hold a normal conversation. I’ve been to 9 countries, 24 states; we can talk about travel. I love horses, dogs, mountains and I’m a little bit of a Dr. Pepper addict. I’m sure we can find something to chat about. And a one-on-one with a perfect stranger will add to your collection of wild tales and reputation as a go-getter.

Also – did you hear about the story of the woman who continually dialed the wrong number until eventually the man asked her name? They built a friendship built of sporadic telephone calls lasting all of a few minutes that went on for twenty years.

The Storytimer

You have read what I’ve written – either a book or this blog. Maybe for years.

Maybe you love everything and just haven’t known what to say to reach out.

Maybe you’re in a book club and you think it would be great if I could call in to take questions or say something about the story.

Or you’ve wanted to. You’ve bought the book and it has sat somewhere within sight collecting dust because you’re afraid of what you might lie between the pages. I’ve had people tell me they buy the book with every intention of reading it – and they get pulled in during chapter one and keep turning the sheets – until they encounter the first sensitive scene and then they put it down (that’s okay, by the way. You don’t have to read it; the first page of every book I have has this line: your emotional, spiritual, physical and mental well-being is more important to the author than your reading this story.)

Maybe you’re thinking of buying a book, but:

• you don’t where to start and wonder – which one would be the best to start with?
• you kind of want to read one in particular but you wish you had more information about specifically what kind of material that book contains.
• you’d love to, but you can’t afford it because gasoline these days can make a woman broke. Money should never be the barrier to communication and connection; I’m happy to give you a free version if this is you.

Or maybe you haven’t read a book but you’ve followed the ramblings of this blog for years.

Either way, you kind of feel like you know me.

Or maybe you’re a writer and you wonder things like:

• What’s her publishing story?
• How does she make the videos / trailers?
• What’s the nitty gritty behind her process? Outline or fly by the seat of her pants – which hill does she die on?
• How does she get ARC / beta readers?
• How does she find 160K words to write for one story??

Listen. The amount of pure joy that crashes through my body when I get a monthly update of how many books sold or how many unique visitors came to the blog has sustained me through many a dark day. You are quite literally part of the realization of a dream come true. You’re proof in my life that they do.

We’ll have plenty to talk about.

A Trauma Survivor

Maybe you came to an event. You were part of a workshop I offered. You sat through a speech I gave as part of my work with RAINN’s Speaker Bureau. Maybe you happened to be in a library or a bookstore when I was talking and hung out on the sidelines, listening. Maybe you have read a book or a blog post I’ve written and it made you feel exposed, vulnerable, scared — and seen. Maybe my blog popped up on your feed and you have no idea why but the post that you read was an excerpt from a book that made you think, I’ve never heard anyone say it like that and then you clicked around until the Meet the Storykeeper page told you I am a hotline specialist and certified in medical accompaniment and trained in trauma-informed coaching… and a survivor.

Maybe the only connection you have to me is that someone printed or received my disclosure and / or safety guide and gave it to you. The booklet has left you hopeful… confused… nervous and you don’t have someone to say that to.

You’ve thought of going to a hotline. Maybe you’ve even tried but there was a long wait and the wait made you nervous and so you left before anyone answered. Or you’re nervous because you don’t know who you’re talking to and that’s not comforting; it’s scary.

I am not a counselor – and I do not ever think that a conversation with me would replace therapy. And if you’re really hurting and need someone right now, please visit The Holding Room where there are details for how to connect with crisis lines and other resources right now. There are people waiting for you to reach out.

I am not anything except a mother to beautiful girls and a writer who has felt so isolated and alone most of her life that the only friends I’ve known are imaginary ones I created. I’m not more anything than anyone else. I still sometimes find myself subconsciously rubbing the inside of my wrist to remember I’m alive and I still sometimes wake up gasping in the middle of the night from night terrors absolutely no one on earth will ever know anything about.

But one of the defining moments for me came just a few years after I disclosed my abuse. I was working as a trainer at a very large company where you really only interacted with the department you were in. I went to the breakroom one day. A woman I’d never seen, never met, watched me. There was an air of anger near her. Suddenly, she said, “You wrote The Character?” The clipped tone sounded angry and anger scares the bejesus out of me. Warily, I nodded. She threw a napkin in the trash hard, nodded and said, “Yeah.” Then, “You couldn’t have written that if it hadn’t happened to you.” A hint of a question hung at the end of the sentence. Shame washed over me. It was the first time a stranger had seen me. I nodded, saying nothing. She shook her head. “Yeah.” And then she walked out. I had no idea how she knew who I was or that I wrote books. But what she taught me was something different a counselor or therapist. What she taught me was that I wasn’t alone. Someone else understood what that book was really about and got it.

Maybe you don’t want counseling. Maybe you already have counseling. But you’re…

• not interested in a hotline for whatever reason (I do recommend them, though).
• have questions about The Storynlight Circle
• have questions about the disclosure or safety guide(s) / wish you had someone to walk you through them.
• have never believed your story matters and now you read it on just about every page I write and it’s made you .. a little curious, a healthy mix of skepticism and hope.
• just want to talk to another survivor – maybe not to disclose a single thing but to say, you know, I read this and I was wondering how you’ve gotten where you are or I need to practice telling someone face to face because I really want to tell XYZ
• have questions about what a SAFE kit actually is or practical needs like – I want to report and I don’t know how or what to expect.

I’m a nobody really… but I am willing to listen.

Also – ten years ago, my books were very different than they are today. They focused on one narrator and the point was to say this is what trauma feels like and, more importantly, trying to convince myself that the awful pain I felt was valid because I wasn’t sure it was. I’d spent so many years comparing my pain to that of the Holocaust survivor’s or the Rwanda genocide survivor’s or Elizabeth Smart’s and believing that since mine wasn’t “as bad as” theirs, it wasn’t real pain. That was not true. Today, while I still struggle with both of those things sometimes still, my writing has shifted to broader and deeper questions like what role does mental illness play in abuse? does healing mean forgetting? what does it look like to reclaim your voice?

The stories we tell – the ones we tell ourselves, the ones we tell others, and the ones we never share – shape our lives.

Healing is not imaginary; it is real.

Maybe yours falls in one of those buckets. And maybe it doesn’t. Maybe it’s completely different.

Whatever the case may be — I would love the opportunity to say hello.

What can it hurt?

Life is either a daring adventure or nothing.

―Helen Keller, The Open Door

And so – here it is again – a link where you can do something weird and book a (completely free) chat with me.