Stories connect us. Good writing helps people feel less alone. That's why I do this work—helping recovery coaches, therapists, healers, and creatives talk about what they do without sounding like everyone else. You didn't get into this work to "build a personal brand." You got into it because you care about people going through something hard, and you know how to help.

I spent years as a librarian before becoming a copywriter, which probably sounds random until you realize both jobs are about the same thing: helping people find what they need. I have three master's degrees in English, writing, and library science—which means I'm a little obsessed with getting the words right. For the past five years, I've managed marketing for an addiction interventionist, built websites for sober coaches, and worked as an OBM for a spiritual healing school. I'm also in long-term recovery myself, which means I understand what's at stake when someone lands on your website looking for help.

Most copywriters learn formulas. I learned by sitting alongside people and families in crisis, by working with practitioners holding space for trauma, by understanding that the person visiting your site might not be the person who needs help—it might be their spouse, their therapist, or their probation officer. That's why I don't just write websites that "convert." I write websites that build trust with people in vulnerable moments. Because your work isn't about closing deals. It's about showing up for people when it matters most.

Proof that good website copy doesn't have to sound like a sales pitch