Why I Chose This Path
The Salty Air Confessional: How the Sea Shaped My Path
If you’d told seventeen-year-old me, dangling my legs over the edge of my family’s dock in Kennebunkport, that I’d someday be writing about relationships instead of… I don’t know, charting shipping routes in the 1800s or cataloging historic weathervanes, I probably wouldn’t have believed you. Back then, I was all about escaping quiet coastal life for a grander journey, like some postmodern Jo March but with salt-streaked hair and rudimentary sailing skills.
Yet now, years later, here I am—penning stories and advice about life, love, and human connection. And when I reflect on it, the path makes more sense than I care to admit. Like those summer evenings on the water, relationships are both unpredictable and grounding, a dance between calm tides and unexpected squalls. And maybe that’s exactly how I ended up here: because something in me has always loved navigating the in-between spaces of life, where connection and adventure collide.
A Grounding Truth: Love Is the Most Universal of Stories
When I first began my writing career (read: writing “Top 10 Lobster Roll Spots in Southern Maine” in exchange for a byline and a pat on the back), I was mesmerized by my readers’ responses. Sure, they wanted to know where the best butter-to-lobster ratio could be devoured, but their comments quickly veered deeper. They’d share memories of family picnics, first dates, or engagement spots tucked along Maine’s rocky coastline—the places where the stories of their lives and relationships were written.
That was when something clicked for me. The stories we tell about romance and connection aren’t just sentimental fluff; they’re woven into the fabric of our everyday experiences. From flirting across a crowded clam shack (true story, but his plaid shirt didn’t survive the butter spill) to deep conversations under a salt-sprayed sky, relationships are the anchor points of our lives.
The Literary Breadcrumb Trail
You could say my love of storytelling—and let’s be honest, of overanalyzing human relationships—started far earlier. I blame the guilt-ridden drama of Edith Wharton novels, where characters grapple hopelessly with their feelings. Or maybe it was Sarah Orne Jewett’s New England sketches, where the simplest handshake could carry the emotional weight of a hurricane. Those stories made me realize that the nuances of relationships, both spoken and unspoken, are timeless—and tirelessly fascinating. And aren’t we all still groping for the right language to convey how we feel, whether we’re scribbling love letters or firing off three-dot ellipses in the midst of modern texting angst?
What I love about writing is that it challenges me to translate the ineffable. How do you explain the swoop in your stomach when someone looks at you a moment too long? Or the way words falter during an earnest apology? These are the things I chase on the page, and I guess I chase them in life, too.
Let’s Talk About Lessons from the Harbor
Being raised in a seafaring town does strange things to you—it makes you notice patterns, rhythms, and the subtle shifts in the breeze before the weather turns. Strange, too, how so many of those lessons apply to relationships.
If you’ll indulge me (and I promise this will circle back to useful advice), here are a few parallels I’ve drawn:
- You Need a Solid Vessel Before Setting Sail.
Have you ever watched someone try to take a dinghy into open waters before patching the holes? I have—and let’s just say it doesn’t end with a triumphant sunset on the horizon. The same goes for relationships. If you’re entering one full of doubts, unresolved baggage, or patched-together promises, the cracks will show the first time you hit rough waters.
Invest in understanding yourself before setting sail with someone else—what steadies you, what scares you, and what baggage you might be dragging like a lost anchor at the bottom of your hull.
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Be Willing to Read the Sky.
My father swore he could tell if a storm was coming by the tilt of seagulls mid-flight. “It’s subtle,” he’d say, “but they know.” In relationships, too, there are quiet signs that all is not well—micro-moments of disconnection, dwindling effort, or one too many conversations that end with “I’m fine” (code for I’m not fine, but good luck figuring it out). Pay attention to these signals before the storm breaks. -
Not Every Ship Is Meant to Dock.
(Okay, maybe that one was too dramatic even for me—can you tell I write romance novels?) But it’s true. Not every relationship was meant to drop anchor in your harbor forever. Some are fleeting, small crafts that sail in and out of your life, teaching you a little more about yourself—or what you deserve—along the way. And that’s okay.
Living by the Compass, Not the Map
When you grow up soaking in historical artifacts and sea captains’ tales, you learn one important thing pretty quickly: the best explorers didn’t follow someone else’s map—they created their own. And isn’t that what love and relationships are all about? There’s no reliable cheat sheet, no GPS for figuring out whether the person across the table is your perfect lobster roll buddy or just a passing tide. All you can do is tap into your compass: your intuition, your values, and your capacity to learn and adapt.
The reason I write about dating and relationships is simple—it’s the most human thing I know how to do. It connects us to our stories, our struggles, and, ultimately, to each other. And while there’s no “one size fits all” for love, I hope my reflections help people recognize their own compass and set out on their journey with renewed confidence.
A Closing Word (& a Quick Send-Off)
If my upbringing taught me anything, it’s that life on the water—or in love—is rarely straightforward. Some days, you’ll drift along effortlessly, buoyed by laughter and shared gelato. Other days, you’ll fight tooth-and-nail to keep from capsizing. The key is to stay curious, try again, and always, always pack snacks (seriously, things go downhill when you’re hangry).
Because whether you’re in the first blush of new attraction or the comfortable rhythm of a long-term partnership, you’re writing your own story each and every day. And as long as you keep showing up, storms and all, you’re doing just fine.
Anchors aweigh, my friends.
