Before I ever put pen to paper, music shaped the way I experienced the world. As a classically trained musician, I learned to listen—not just to the melody but to the silence between the notes, which can often hold more meaning.

I like to think that awareness carries into my writing, where cadence, contrast, and stillness inform my choice of words. Whether in the frenetic pace of a tense moment or the quiet impact of a single reflective line, I strive to compose narratives that resonate long after the story ends. 

Perhaps that sense of space is why the sea has always spoken to me. There’s a rhythm in its restless motion, a challenge in its unpredictability, and a refuge in its boundless expanse. For these reasons, sailing has been my lifelong passion, not merely for its freedom but for its lessons—how to read the winds, trust one’s instincts, navigate a course, and embrace the unexpected.

I suspect that’s why much of my writing is set in Provincetown. There is so much to love about the place: its ramshackle old houses, miles of beaches and dunes, the creative energy within its galleries and studios—the stories of those who came seeking refuge, reinvention, or simply the freedom to be. And, of course, the ever-present ocean. (Check out my “As I See It” page for some images.)

At home, my greatest joy is my dog, Dori, who, in her quiet wisdom, reminds me to savor every moment—to find contentment in a sun-warmed patch of yard or a walk along the beach. Our walks  help me appreciate a place where art, history, and the restless sea keep the imagination vibrant and the heart open.

Through my writing, I hope to capture a fraction of that magic and to share the wonder of found family, the power of resilience, and the undeniable truth that life—like the ocean—is both challenging and full of infinite possibility.

Thanks for reading!

A. C.