Experienced writer across copy, editorial, and branded social content. Currently telling stories @ Public Records.
When I’m not at my 9 to 5, you can find me working on my Substack, Unsubscribing, an essay series where I cancel beliefs that no longer serve me and get vulnerable about growing up with strangers on the internet.
When I’m not at my 9 to 5, you can find me working on my Substack, Unsubscribing, an essay series where I cancel beliefs that no longer serve me and get vulnerable about growing up with strangers on the internet.
A note from me, Margot:
In preparation for my elementary school playdates, I used to log onto my dad’s old dinosaur of a Dell computer to open up a Word doc. For hours, I’d type away, working on what I then considered to be some of the most highbrow works of my generation: a screenplay about a regular girl becoming an overnight pop star.
When my friends finally arrived for our pre-arranged recreation, I’d print copies of my latest work to pass out at the door, casting roles as they walked in. My friends never had much of a desire to be on screen, but I never gave them much of a choice either. I was a writer/director with a vision, what can I say? I forced them to spend our session in front of my pink, Limited Too, bedazzled camcorder, spitting out the words I’d written, so I’d have something to show the parents at the end of the day.
When the playdate was over, I’d fashion a viewing in my living room—dimmed lights, microwave popcorn, the works! I plugged my camcorder into the TV and premiered my new feature film to my entire family, friends, and their parents clip-by-clip. The reviews were always overwhelmingly positive (with the exception of my sister’s that one time she was mad at me). The applause, the accolades—I’d feed off them, already dreaming up the story I would tell next playdate.
^This is how my mom knew I’d be a writer.
Fifteen years later, and I’m still just as excited about telling stories. Only this time, I don’t have to force people to receive them—I actually get hired to do it!
Hobbies include:
In preparation for my elementary school playdates, I used to log onto my dad’s old dinosaur of a Dell computer to open up a Word doc. For hours, I’d type away, working on what I then considered to be some of the most highbrow works of my generation: a screenplay about a regular girl becoming an overnight pop star.
When my friends finally arrived for our pre-arranged recreation, I’d print copies of my latest work to pass out at the door, casting roles as they walked in. My friends never had much of a desire to be on screen, but I never gave them much of a choice either. I was a writer/director with a vision, what can I say? I forced them to spend our session in front of my pink, Limited Too, bedazzled camcorder, spitting out the words I’d written, so I’d have something to show the parents at the end of the day.
When the playdate was over, I’d fashion a viewing in my living room—dimmed lights, microwave popcorn, the works! I plugged my camcorder into the TV and premiered my new feature film to my entire family, friends, and their parents clip-by-clip. The reviews were always overwhelmingly positive (with the exception of my sister’s that one time she was mad at me). The applause, the accolades—I’d feed off them, already dreaming up the story I would tell next playdate.
^This is how my mom knew I’d be a writer.
Fifteen years later, and I’m still just as excited about telling stories. Only this time, I don’t have to force people to receive them—I actually get hired to do it!
Hobbies include: