As a writer who lived in New York City for 15 years before moving to an 1847-era cottage on a 30-acre farm in the New Jersey countryside, I've lived two very different lives—aggressively urban and shockingly rural—while penning articles for Kinfolk Magazine, Vanity Fair, Vulture, and more. I’m also currently seeking representation for my debut upmarket gothic horror novel (agents, call me! That’s how it works, right?)

 

I’m an obsessive researcher—I’ve never met a library, Google search, dusty shelf of microfiche containers, or Wikipedia footnote I didn’t like. I've been surrounded by ghosts all my life and am a spiritual medium and cemetery explorer (check out my weekly series Sunday Pastries With the Dead). I’m also stubbornly working through the techniques behind foraging, gardening, watercoloring, pressing flowers, and pinning bugs. So far, I haven’t killed my sourdough starter Lorna. 

 

On top of all that, I’m also an occasional farmsitter in the Catskills—sheep, alpacas, goats, ducks, chickens, turkeys, mules, guinea hens, dogs, cats, and even a lizard have survived (perhaps thrived) under my care. The natural world constantly inspires me, and I try to share something beautiful every day via my Instagram page. I can, as Colleen Dewhurst’s splendid Marilla Cuthbert once said, “Talk the hind leg off a mule.” Come to think of it, I’m basically an L.M. Montgomery character with platinum-dyed hair and tattoos. Oh, and my last name is pronounced Kal-ew-tee, if you were wondering.