The author thing was an accident.

In 1994, after graduating from Purdue University in West Lafayette, IN, and marrying my college sweetheart, I took an internship at The Children’s Museum of Indianapolis—five floors of fun, the Big Clock, carousel—all the things. When it came to an end, I took a job in Special Exhibitions, the department that handles the traveling exhibitions that visit the museum briefly. One of the programs I launched while there was Preschool Hours. The first one I created was for the exhibit Sharks: An Exhibit With Bite.

Catchy title, right? 

It was a cool one to sink my teeth into—get it?—and gave me so much experience working in enrichment education with fabulous coworkers who invested in and taught me so much. 

When creating each Preschool Hour, I sought picture books related to the exhibit, then created a hands-on activity to extend learning. When I couldn’t find a book to read to the little ones, I would make up a story with props or enlist our graphic design team to make storyboards. Soon after the success of my Special Exhibitions Preschool Hour, I created them for other museum galleries. 

One day, while cutting out something in the office, my boss paused, looked at me, and said, “You know, Jen, you should just go tell stories for a living.”

Wide-eyed, I put down the scissors and started shaking. “Are you firing me?” I asked with a quiver in my voice. I was 23 years old and knew this was the moment I was getting my pink slip.

Quickly, she regrouped. “Oh my gosh, no! I don’t want you to leave. I didn’t know if anyone told you how good you are at writing stories. I think it’s something you should do.” 

And now you know the rest of the story. 

My first book, Little Pumpkin, was released in 2000, followed by Two by Two in 2001. And then I needed a break, and my little boys needed their mom. I walked away from publishing for ten years. 

I didn’t write a word, and I didn’t miss it––until I did. 

In 2010, my best friend’s son passed away. Nancy combed bookstores looking for a picture book that would speak to the grief her children were experiencing and could not find it. Nancy asked me to write something, and I did. While seeking a publisher, I connected with a fantastic woman who helmed her own publishing house. 

The more we got to know one another, the more she would laugh and listen to the happenings in my life. One day, she said, “You’re so funny and have the craziest things happen in your life. Have you ever thought about writing nonfiction?” 

I froze. “Um, no!” I quickly replied. “I don’t have anything to say, and I don’t think anyone would be interested.”

She didn’t pause long. “Jen, I disagree, but I’ll tell you what: When you feel like you have something you want to say, I want to hear about it first.” 

And that, my friends, is how my first memoir, The Day I Wore My Panties Inside Out, came to be, which was nominated in 2011 for the Goodreads Choice Awards. This little dandy was a semifinalist in the Humor category. Not bad, right? 

Much of my wordsmithing career is spent creating content for others in advertising, marketing, ghostwriting, and video production. Yet, as my life changes and my babies launch from the nest, I’m finding more time to get back to writing as just me, or as my friend Cari calls me, Just Jen. 

These days, you’ll find me living in Indiana after some time in South Carolina, Ohio, and Maryland. I love spending time with my ever-patient husband, three moxie-filled adult-ish children, and two rescue dogs, Violet and Jerry. When I’m not at my desk making stuff up for a living, you’ll find me having tea with friends, refilling my bird feeder, and texting my daily Wordle results to my BFFs, which serves as our daily well-person check-in.