From Notebooks and Big Dreams: The Journey to Barnaby and The Burds
Apr 27, 2026
There's a little girl inside of me who never stopped dreaming.
When I was small, I had a drawer full of secrets. Not the kind you'd whisper to a friend at a sleepover — the kind you pour onto paper when no one is watching. Notebooks filled with stories I made up, characters I drew with my own hands, and worlds I built one wobbly crayon line at a time. I wanted to be an author. Not just any author — I wanted to write children's books. That was the dream, pure and simple, the way only a child's dream can be.
But no one really knew about it.
I was a self-conscious child, and those stories felt too close to my heart to share with anyone. So they stayed in the drawer, tucked away where they were safe — where no one could judge them or tell me they weren't good enough. I loved them too much to risk that. So I wrote in private, I dreamed in private, and I kept that tender little wish to myself.
And then life did what life does — it rearranged things.
As I got older, the stories quieted down. I did what so many of us do — I followed the path that the world seemed to lay out in front of me. I stepped into the roles that society expected. I built a life, and in many ways it was a good one, but somewhere along the way, that little girl and her secret dream got tucked away just like those notebooks in the drawer. Out of sight, but never truly gone.
Years passed. Decades, actually. And I didn't think much about that dream — not consciously, anyway. But I believe our deepest desires don't just disappear. They wait. Patiently. Quietly. Like seeds buried beneath snow, trusting that spring will come.
And spring did come — in the most unexpected way.
About a year ago, I was offered an opportunity to contribute to a collaboration book alongside a group of incredible healers. Each of us shared a personal story — not fiction, but the real, raw chapters of our lives that shaped who we became. I poured a piece of my journey onto those pages, and when the book was published, something remarkable happened. It became a number one international bestseller. And just like that, I got to place a word next to my name that I had dreamed about since childhood: author.
I can't tell you what that felt like without getting a little emotional. It was like that little girl finally opened the drawer, held up her stories, and whispered, "See? I told you so."
But the story didn't end there. It was only beginning.
That experience lit something in me — a spark that quickly became a flame. I realized I didn't just want to be an author. I wanted to fulfill the original dream. I wanted to write a children's book. Now, the little girl in me would have written about magic and unicorns — and honestly, I still might someday because that just sounds fun — but the woman I've become knew that my first children's book needed to be something different. Something deeper. I didn't just want to write a children's book. I wanted to write one that could genuinely help people. One with depth and heart. One that mattered.
That's when Barnaby found me. He wasn't a character I'd been carrying around since childhood — he was born from the woman I'd grown into, from the healing I'd done, from the things I'd learned the hard way. But he never would have existed if that little girl hadn't planted the seed of this dream all those years ago.
Barnaby and The Burds is the book I felt needed to be written. In this story, you'll meet little creatures called Burds. They look like sweet little birds, but they represent something much heavier — burdens. The kind of burdens we all carry, whether we're five years old or fifty-five. It's the kind of book that a child can read and enjoy on the surface, but an adult — or someone who is young at heart — will feel on a much deeper level. I like to think of it as a book that meets you wherever you are. A child might see a colorful adventure. A counselor might see a powerful tool for their practice. A parent might see their own unspoken struggles reflected back at them with gentleness and compassion. It's the kind of book that belongs in classrooms, in counseling offices, on bedside tables, and in the hands of anyone who has ever felt like they were carrying too much.
Now, I want to be honest with you — bringing Barnaby into the world was not easy.
I did everything myself. Every decision, every detail, every late night of figuring things out as I went. Finding the right people to help with the illustrations alone was a journey in itself. The process took longer than I ever expected, and there were moments when I wondered if I had taken on more than I could handle. But every time I felt like giving up, I thought about that little girl writing stories in secret, filling her drawer with dreams she was too afraid to share. She didn't give up on this dream. So neither would I.
And alongside Barnaby's story, something else was born — a companion book for adults. This one is a self-help book rooted in something deeply personal to me: boundaries. For so much of my life, I struggled with setting boundaries, even though I didn't fully recognize it for a long time. I developed what I call the Loving No Method — a gentle, compassionate approach to understanding your own boundaries, expressing your needs, and learning to stop carrying what was never yours to carry. Because saying no doesn't have to be harsh. It can be one of the most loving things you ever do — for yourself and for the people around you.
These two books are my heart on paper. They represent decades of dreaming, years of healing, and a lifetime of learning that it is never too late to honor the promises you made to yourself as a child.
I am 52 years old, and this year, I fulfilled a dream that began when I was small enough to believe that anything was possible — even if I was too afraid to say it out loud. Turns out, that quiet little girl with her secret drawer full of stories was braver than she ever knew.
Barnaby is out in the world now, and honestly, if his story helps even one person — just one — then every late night, every setback, every moment of doubt was worth it. Every single bit of it.
To anyone reading this who has a dream hidden away in a drawer of their own — pull it out. Dust it off. It's still yours. It's still waiting.
And it's never too late to begin.
If Barnaby's story speaks to you, or someone you love, you can find Barnaby and the Burds on Amazon, along with the companion guide for adults. This book was written because it needed to exist. Maybe it needs to find you too.
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