My little Publishing cottage began the way many good things do—right after something else fell apart.

A major project of mine dissolved unexpectedly, leaving me with something I hadn’t had in years: time. Time to breathe, time to play, time to remember that long before I became a person with Very Serious Degrees and a Very Serious Adult Job, I was a kid who wanted—desperately—to write books. All kinds of books. Smart books, strange books, beautiful books, deeply unserious books. Books that made people think, laugh, trace, color, wonder.

So in that unexpected pause, I finally started.

And then my family started with me.

Pettyfeather is now a growing little house of imprints and experiments—pop history, coloring books, tracing journals, creative workbooks, mythology, satire, saints, stoics, romantasy, cognitive fitness, stained glass flowers, and whatever else we dream up next. Each book is a small act of permission: to play, to explore, to learn, to create without judgment.