I do. The same way I use spellcheck, a calculator, or Google Maps: as a tool. I don't use AI to write client deliverables. If you hire me, you're hiring my brain, my judgment, my reporting, my interviews, my curiosity, and my years of paying attention to how people communicate. That's what shows up on the page.

If you're the kind of executive who takes my work, pastes it into ChatGPT, and says, "Well...ChatGPT thinks..." we're probably not floating in the same ocean.

Quite a bit, actually. I don't do daily social media management. I don't write SEO blogs just to satisfy a keyword. I don't write thought leadership that could belong to anyone. And I won't write something that's misleading, harmful, or knowingly untrue.

Mostly, though, I don't do forgettable. The world has enough of that already.

I also don't eat breakfast. Unless breakfast is candy. Or cake. My dentist doesn't need to know any of this.

Every project gets its own process because every client, timeline, team, and problem is different. Usually it starts with you reaching out. We hop on a call, talk through what you're building (or untangle what you're trying to build), and if it feels like we're a good fit, I'll send over a proposal.

From there, I build the process around the work—not the other way around. Some projects need interviews. Some need research. Some need workshops. Some just need someone willing to ask the question nobody else has asked yet. No templates. No content marketing conveyer belt.

Because good writing doesn't begin with writing. It begins with noticing. Research. Curiosity. Interviews. Contradictions. The question someone accidentally answered without realizing it. The sentence buried in page seven of the strategy deck that everyone skimmed past.

I'm less interested in finding prettier words than I am in finding the right ones. Once we understand what's actually true, the writing tends to take care of itself.

Most projects are 50% upfront and 50% when we're finished. For larger engagements, we'll map out milestone payments before we get started. You'll always know what's included, what's not, and when invoices are coming. And no, I don't accept payment in sand dollars.

When a client reads the draft and says, "That's exactly what I've been trying to say." When they email me six months later because they're still using the language we built together. When they tell me their audience felt seen. When a homepage finally sounds like the people behind it.

Those moments make me absurdly happy. Because good writing doesn't just communicate. It helps people recognize themselves.