As another year comes to a close, I find myself reflecting not just on the past twelve months, but on a longer stretch of time. With my decision to step down as Director of Education at The Porch, I have been thinking about the years that led me here and the work that brought me some of the greatest joys of my professional life.

My journey with The Porch began in 2018, shortly after my husband and I moved to Nashville from New York without knowing anyone.  I was grieving the loss of my literary community, wondering how I might find others who have also read Ferrante’s Neapolitan novels, when I discovered The Porch through a simple Google search: “creative writers Nashville.” I cold-emailed the cofounders, Katie McDougall and Susannah Felts, with multiple paragraphs explaining my background in writing, teaching, and publishing. To my pleasant surprise, they responded very quickly and offered to meet me for coffee. The Porch had just left its space at The Refinery in Wedgewood-Houston, and I would start teaching with them before they found their more permanent home in Berry Hill. 

I taught my first Porch class—Foundations of Nonfiction—at the back of a yoga studio, then the basement office of Humanities Tennessee, when my oldest child was still an infant and I was emerging from a difficult postpartum stretch.  Those two hours a week with my students brought me back to life, and I reveled in our nerdy discussions of James Baldwin, Joan Didion, and Valeria Luiselli. Some of those students ended up attending MFA programs, and one of them even returned to Nashville to become a Porch teacher herself, resulting in a full-circle experience. 

It wasn’t until stepping into the role of Director of Education in 2023 that I discovered how common this type of experience was for Porch teachers across the board. Not only were teachers providing safe spaces for writers of all ages and stages to gather; students, through their willingness to listen and share, also gave teachers a sense of hope, and proof that writing can truly bring strangers together. 

While designing many consecutive seasons of writing classes and events, I sought teachers and facilitators who not only had a writing background but the special ability to hold safe spaces. Our teachers practice active listening rather than lecturing, and model how to offer constructive feedback, regardless of their students’ exposure to writing workshops. I have often heard about students sharing vulnerable truths that they may not have shared yet with their closest peers or family—simply because that space at The Porch made them feel safe enough to do so. 

Over the last few years, I was also proud to activate affinity group meetups that welcome hundreds of writers of various identities and genres who are looking for community and opportunities. The Porch also now has strong partnerships with local organizations like the Nashville Symphony and the Frist, and our recurring program with the Southern Festival of Books brings festival authors into classrooms each fall. We launched six-month cohorts that support long-term projects in fiction, nonfiction, and poetry. 

Some of my favorite memories come from the programs and events that have taken on a life of their own. IGNITE, our “summer camp for adults,” has become a week that many writers block off on their calendars months in advance, and it gives writers from other states an excuse to visit Nashville. The Write-a-Thon gathers beginners and seasoned writers alike for a month of shared goals and Tuesday night write-ins. Professional headshot photoshoots offer encouragement and visibility to writers at various stages of their careers. Recently, The Porch brought its programming to Memphis for the first time, where new voices reminded us of the reach and resonance of this work.

What has meant the most, though, is not any single event but the ongoing experience of watching writers grow in community. First-time students who return season after season. Teachers who join us from across the country and become integral to our offerings. Even on the busiest days, when calendars are overflowing and inboxes are full, the work feels worth it because of the people who show up with sincerity and curiosity.

I feel grateful to have played a part in shaping this chapter of The Porch. As I step away from the role, I’ll be stepping forward into the next season of my own creative and family life. The work of this organization will continue in steady and capable hands, and I look forward to supporting it from a different vantage point.

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