I’m a writer who found her voice on LinkedIn of all places — and now writes very cool copy for peeps.
Most importantly, herself.
(::snaps::)
Also there’s a toucan involved.
After fifteen years in editorial leadership and brand storytelling, I left corporate life to raise two very cute future members of the workforce and freelance-write during naptime. Somewhere along the way, a few toxic businessmen with, like, FOUR TONS of audaci-straw broke every single one of mah camel’s vertebrae and sent him straight to the ICU. Suffice it to say, the buttoned-up, prim-and-proper, Professional Vanessa Voice was dead and buried — and the ghost of my ’02 LiveJournal ramblings grabbed the keyboard for good.
Now I rage-write essays about identity, motherhood, ambition, burnout, millennial nostalgia, creativity, birds, and the general psychological chaos of being alive. Fun times.
For some reason, Gremlin Books named me a Reed Press Editorial Fellow (2026) and offered me a book deal, which still feels fake.
The book my nine-year-old self (plus mah toucan-shaped subconscious) told me to write. So I did.
Equal parts memoir, creative resuscitation, and permission slip for everyone who optimized the pink sparkle (aka whimsy) straight outta their own life.
Forthcoming 2027
Da f*ck is a Touks?Her writing reads like the internal monologue so many of us were taught to tone down, but never actually could.
I write copy for cool brands.
I help you say the thing, like only you can say it.
I make the website vibe match the voice (just like this one).
She finds the human story in even the driest material — and turns it into our highest-performing content.
Lawyers, look away.
Disclosures & disclaimers — Subject is a ghostwriter no longer ghostin’ herself and a liberal arts degree survivor who writes like she’s runnin’ outta time. Sponsored, unofficially, by Taco Bell and coffeejuice. Treats metaphor like a competitive sport and is a self-identified run-on-sentence enthusiast. Reads as if Joan Didion and Daria had a daughter; is a borderline doggo stalker; remains a millennial in bone density, Gen Z at heart, and is mentally still at the Scholastic Book Fair. Owes everything to one structurally ruined camel and blames Touks for all of this. All claims technically true. Void where prohibited. No camels or birds or professionals were consulted.
