Magazines have always been my love. I can’t remember a time when my work tote wasn’t loaded down with a stack of them—cooking, beauty, news, fitness.

If it was sold on a newsstand, I would take it and pour over it. But here’s the thing—even though I worked in advertising I never looked at the ads. Magazines were my getaway from making ads and writing books. They were often beautiful and sometimes inspiring, and that was enough.

Nine years ago I started writing a monthly column for the city magazine of Waco, Texas. Initially, because I was a first-time mother, the column was called Notes from A New Mother. But over time it evolved into Texanna, a place where I write about everyday life. Sometimes it’s funny and sometimes it’s serious. Sometimes it’s about my neighbor, Larry, who is both funny and serious…  about his lawn. 

One Saturday night in late 2018 my husband and I were out to dinner when suddenly I put the menu down. He asked, “Do you know what you want?” And I answered, “I do. I think I want to write for magazines forever.” That was a lot bigger order than some enchiladas, and we both knew it. “Alright,” he said. “But… you do know magazines are a dying industry, right?”

I knew; I read the same doom and gloom news that he did. But I had a weird feeling that, somehow, this dream I had could happen. I kept freelancing in advertising while also holding onto this other idea. Then one day the opportunity came up for me to join the editorial team for Magnolia Journal. 

Now I spend my days making a magazine I love.

And as an added benefit, my husband seems to listen a lot more carefully when we go out to eat Mexican food. While we’re looking at menus, he’ll ask, “What are you thinking about?” If I just answer, “Tacos,” he’s a little disappointed. I think he’s waiting for me to put my menu down and say I really have a craving for him to buy a new fishing boat.