Q: Many artists say songwriting is a form of self-discovery. Have you learned anything unexpected about yourself through writing your music?

A: One of the most unexpected things I have learned is how often I try to make an experience easier to understanding by assigning someone a role. I have written myself as the person at fault, the person who was wronged, the one who stayed too long, or the one who should have known better. Songwriting has taught me to sit with contradiction. I can recognize where I was hurt while still taking responsibility for the ways I contributed to a situation. I can miss someone and also know that losing them was necessary. That has been an important form of self-discovery for me, because I used to think healing meant arriving at one clear explanation. Through writing Out of Character, I learned that understanding myself does not require choosing one fixed version of the story. Sometimes the most honest thing I can do is allow several truths to exist at once.

Q: Your songs feel intimate without revealing everything outright. How do you decide what parts of your personal experiences to keep private and what you’re comfortable sharing through your lyrics?
A: I want the listener to understand the feeling, but I do not necessarily need to give them every fact that created it. I am comfortable being vulnerable about my own emotions, mistakes, and contradictions, but I try to avoid turning a song into a complete account of someone else’s life. I think intimacy comes less from revealing everything and more from being precise about what something felt like. A listener may not know exactly who or what I am writing about, but they can still recognize the shame, anger, longing, or relief within it. That balance allows the music to remain deeply personal while still preserving a part of the experience that belongs only to me.

Q: What role do lyrics play in your creative process? Are there any lines you've written that continue to hold special meaning for you even after the song was released?
A: Lyrics are usually the foundation of my creative process. Even when a song begins with a melody or a guitar progression, I do not fully understand what it is until I find the language behind it. The lyrics determine where the production needs to go—whether a song should remain restrained, become louder and more confrontational, or leave space for a particular emotion to sit unresolved. I am always looking for the most honest way to express something, especially when the feeling itself is complicated. Sometimes a single line becomes the center of the song and everything else is built around it.
One line that continues to hold special meaning for me is, “You called it quits, so aren’t you the fraud?” from “The Fraud.” It arrives at the very end of the song and quietly overturns everything that came before it. For most of the track, I accept the role of the person at fault, but that final question suggests that the story may never have been as straightforward as I believed. That line became important to me beyond the song because it reflects much of what Out of Character explores— questioning the roles we are given, reconsidering the stories we tell about ourselves, and realizing that perspective can change long after an experience has ended.

Q: Every artist develops recurring themes throughout their catalog. Have you noticed any subjects or emotions you find yourself returning to, even unintentionally?
A: I often return to questions of identity—particularly how our sense of self can change depending on who is looking at us. Many of my songs examine the distance between who you believe yourself to be, who someone else has decided you are, and the person you become while trying to reconcile those versions. I also find myself writing about memory, blame, and the need to make sense of an ending. I am interested in how two people can experience the same relationship and leave with completely different stories about what happened. Even when I am not intentionally writing about those ideas, they tend to surface through questions of responsibility, self-worth, and whether closure actually comes from understanding the other person or from learning to trust your own perspective. There is usually a tension in my music between holding on and letting go. My songs often live in the moment when someone knows a chapter has ended but has not entirely accepted what that means yet.

Q: How do you know when a song is finished? Is there a particular feeling you're chasing before you're comfortable letting it go?
A: I know a song is finished when I stop hearing the decisions behind it and simply listen to the music. I am chasing the moment when it feels instinctive rather than constructed.

Q: What inspires you outside of music? Whether it's books, films, art, travel, or everyday conversations, what tends to spark your creativity the most?
A: I love being outside. Touching grass is overlooked. Something about the way the sunlight hits my skin and smelling the fresh air helps reset me. It also helps refuel my creativity. It reminds me that life is a lot larger than we think it is.

Q: As an emerging artist, how has your perspective on success changed since you first started making music?
A: When I first started making music, I viewed success through visible milestones like streams, recognition and opportunities that made me feel as though I was progressing. Those things still matter, but they aren't the entire measure of a career. Success to me means creating work I genuinely believe in, building a team and community around it, and continuing to grow without losing sight of why I began making music.

Q: What has been the biggest challenge you've faced while establishing yourself as an independent artist, and how has that challenge shaped your growth?
A: The greatest challenge has been learning how to protect the creative part of myself while also managing the practical demands of being independent. You are not only writing and performing—you are budgeting, booking, promoting, planning releases, and constantly making decisions about what comes next. That pressure has made me more disciplined and resourceful, but it has also taught me that independence does not have to mean doing everything alone. Building a team I trust has allowed me to grow without losing ownership of the vision. I have become more confident in asking for help, more intentional with my decisions, and more resilient when progress does not happen as quickly as I hoped.

Q: How do you navigate the vulnerability that comes with releasing deeply personal music into the world?
A: Writing turns something private into something I can examine from a distance. By the time a song is released, the experience has been shaped into lyrics, melodies, and production—it is no longer simply a memory. That transformation makes it easier to let other people into it. I have learned to see vulnerability not as losing control, but as creating space for someone else to feel understood.

Q: If you could leave a message for someone who's about to hear your music for the very first time, what would you say?
A: The songs are personal, but once you hear them, they’re yours too.