What is your ideal office?
At home surrounded by my plants and my dog.
What is your morning routine?
I wake up and go for a walk with my dog and pick up a matcha. I find that moving my body and getting fresh air first thing in the morning is critical for starting the day off right. If it’s a writing day, I might sit for a tea meditation to allow the words to pour in.
When was the last time a book made you cry?
Every book makes me cry. I’m a voracious reader, and something about leaving a world behind makes me emotional — regardless of the ending. Perhaps that’s why I do the work that I do.
Who was the first person you idolized?
My mother. She taught me to see the world with wonder. She still does.
Where do you go when you write?
First I go in, then I go out.
What is your favorite essay in The Overview?
There’s an edition about crows and ravens — how they have been observed holding funerals — and the universality of grief that comes to mind. Or the one about the mystery of dark matter and dark energy, which comprise the vast majority of our universe and yet scientists cannot identify. And another about dragonflies and incomplete metamorphosis, which came from a deeply tender place.
What’s something you’ve learned about nature that other people should know?
Despite the frameworks many of us have been raised with, nature is inherently queer and trans. Countless species exhibit homosexual behavior and exist on a spectrum when it comes to sex and gender — including gynandromorphic birds and insects, clownfish that change sex, and fungi that exist in tens of thousands of different forms of what we call gender. Biodiversity is the hallmark of nature, and what is queerness if not a celebration of that?
Is romanticism dead?
It’s up to us what we let die, and what we let live on through us. I choose to be a romantic. I think I always knew that I wouldn’t survive this world if I didn’t fall in love with it.
Which weather phenomenon best describes you?
I’ve always loved summer storms. Something about the rain and lightning feel cathartic to me, like a release of tension building under the surface that you couldn’t previously place. Maybe that’s not me, but I hope it’s what my words can be.
What have you learned recently about yourself?
That I never stop evolving.
How do you find balance?
I write.
If you could be any animal for a day, which one would you choose?
A hummingbird. They are the only animal that has the ability to hover, which they adapted in order to remain unmoving enough to drink the nectar of delicate flowers without damaging them. I often think about that: how sweet it would be to finally learn to be still.
