I write about grief because I haven't figured out how to stop.

Most of my scripts start the same way — someone in a room they should have left, carrying something they can't put down, circling a truth they already know but won't say out loud. That's not a formula. That's just what keeps coming out when I sit down to write.

I grew up in the Midwest and I've spent enough time around dead-end towns and masculine silence and the particular way families avoid the things that are killing them to know that those aren't regional specifics — they're universal. Everyone has a place they can't go back to and can't stop thinking about. I make films about those places.

The work falls somewhere between character-driven horror and grounded drama. Not because I planned it that way, but because grief and dread occupy the same room in the human mind, and I'm not interested in pretending otherwise. My comps tend toward Aftersun, Manchester by the Sea, Hereditary — films that trust the audience to sit with something unresolved and find meaning in the unresolvedness.

I hold an MFA in screenwriting. My scripts have been recognized by Austin Film Festival, Nashville, Vail, and Richmond. I'm currently in pre-production on Keep Driving, a short film I'm directing that began as a misread of a foreign film trailer and evolved into something I'm more afraid of than anything I've written — which usually means it's working.

I'm based in Atlanta. Los Angeles knows my name.

I'm always interested in thoughtful conversations about stories, collaboration, and what it means to make something that stays with someone.