In 2020, my oldest brother, Richard, gave me a copy of My Ears Are Bent by Joseph Mitchell. Richard has always loved New York City, and I think his fascination with the city drew him to Mitchell’s writing. Knowing my own attachment to Ellensburg, he thought I might find inspiration in Mitchell’s work and capture our hometown in a similar spirit. Reading Mitchell helped me imagine how to approach the people and stories of Ellensburg with curiosity and care. I was born here, and somehow the town and writing have always found their way into my life, in ways big and small.
That connection showed up early. In 1981, when I was a senior at Bethel High School in Spanaway, I attended a day‑long conference for high school students at Central Washington University in Ellensburg. I went with the Newspaper class, where I served as sports editor of Brave Talk. I chose a feature‑writing workshop, and at the end we had a human‑interest writing competition. I barely remember the story, but I remember winning second place, which felt like first. That feeling is the same one that pulls me toward writing about Ellensburg today. Even then, before I thought seriously about writing, Ellensburg was asserting itself.
I didn’t realize how strong that connection was until I was forced to leave. The summer after a wildly alive ninth grade that felt full of life’s possibilities, I was dragged, kicking and screaming, from Ellensburg to Roy. Still, I kept finding my way back, one way or another. I was basically orbiting Ellensburg without fully landing until 2016, when Kathryn Schultz published her widely read article “The Really Big One,” about the Cascadia earthquake. Her reporting finally gave me the excuse I had been waiting for to return permanently. I had wanted to move back for years but never had a compelling enough reason. That article was it. Thank you, Kathryn Schultz, for scaring the crap out of me.
Now I find myself drawn to writing about Ellensburg with the same curiosity and attention Mitchell brought to New York City. I want to capture its people, its rhythms, and its character, not as an outsider looking in, but as someone who has lived here, left, returned, and observed it from multiple angles. I hope to do so boldly and with care, following patterns of truth, humor, and human insight, even as I continue to enjoy books like A Year of Yes by Shonda Rhimes, which reminds me to take risks and embrace boldness in my own voice.