New Song, New Chapter

Thoughts on Artistry, Songwriting, and Releasing My Own Music

I’ve spent most of my career wrestling with the idea of being an “artist.” Not in terms of creating (that’s the fun part) but in terms of actually identifying as one. Throughout my experience in the music industry, roles have often felt predefined and, once set, difficult to break out of. This isn’t a bad thing. Some of the best advice I got when I was starting out as a writer at 18 came from a songwriting mentor who told me to pick a lane — melody writer, producer, singer, lyricist — and focus on mastering that one thing. The logic was simple: if I specialized, I’d have a higher chance of making a career out of it. She was right, and I credit her with putting me on a path that led to the success I’ve been fortunate enough to have as a songwriter thus far.

But that was over a decade ago. The industry has changed. I’ve changed. My life now isn’t about choosing between being a writer or an artist; it’s about embracing the and between those two titles.

That being said, I’ve carried some baggage with that word: artist.

For starters, I have a severe hearing loss in both ears, so you might assume I’d have picked a less sonic career path. Maybe pottery. Or mime. I’ve worn hearing aids since I was four, long before they were advanced enough to capture music the way most people hear it. For most of my life, I didn’t simply listen to music — I felt it. I relied on the lyrics and vibrations of a song more than the details within it. So maybe it’s no surprise that I found my comfort zone behind the scenes, writing songs for other artists instead. And honestly? I love that. It’s fulfilling, it pays (sometimes), and I get to live in sweatpants.

And the thing is, all of my idols were songwriters first. Carole King, for example — one of my biggest inspirations — got to have a life because she was a writer before she was ever a front-facing artist. I’ve seen so many artists get in their own way, insisting on being the one front and center even when it makes them miserable. I never wanted that. I never even wanted to be the one on stage. I’d go to concerts and think, thank God I’m not up there. What I do love is sitting in an audience and hearing another artist perform a song we wrote together — watching them bring it to life in their own way. That, to me, is magic.

I was raised by a woman who fully embodied the word artist in the sense that she was a performer to her core. That was my first impression of what being an artist meant: someone who lives for the stage; who craves the spotlight; who belts in the shower like it’s opening night on Broadway (and makes it sound good). Even after years of touring in my family band with her and my dad, I was still the kid who preferred making up stories with Barbies, alone in my room. Performing wasn’t a choice — it was just what we did. And that shaped not only my understanding of the industry but also my definition of what an artist was supposed to be.

So here I am, decades later, untangling all of that while I *dun dun dun* release my own songs for the first time.

I’m learning that telling my own stories out loud can be just as fulfilling as writing them for someone else. That this time, it isn’t forced…it’s something I want to do. That my old definition of an artist was never quite right, and that I don’t have to compromise who I am just to claim the title. I can write. I can put out music. I can call myself an artist without wanting to tour, without chasing validation, and without giving up the part of me that still feels most comfortable in a songwriting session.

My first single, Nostalgia, is out now (!!), and I couldn’t be more excited to share it with you. You can listen wherever you stream music, and the official lyric video is below.

Thank you for being here, for reading, for listening, and for following along on this little journey of mine