Meet Karen
Writer, Musician, Friend to Dogs, Lazy Gardener
People often tell me, “I know you from somewhere,” and nine times out of ten, it turns out they’ve seen me on stage singing with the Olympia Peace Choir or the Olympia Musical Theatre singers. If I haven’t been tapped to sing a solo, then I’m the smartass in the back row who cracks herself (and sometimes others) up. It’s a gift.
I’ve lived in Olympia for over a decade now, but I grew up in Wisconsin. Washington is home in a way the Midwest never quite was. Something about the moss, the mist, the mountains, the Sound, the people—it feels like belonging.
You should probably also meet my sidekick, Dodger. He’s a scruffy black dog with mysterious origins: cattle dog, German shepherd, chow chow, poodle, pit bull, border collie, and chihuahua. (Don’t ask me; ask Embark. Or maybe his parents. They were there when he happened.) He looks like a Muppet and lives like a cowboy. I couldn’t make him up if I tried.
I’ve been a writer since I could clutch a pencil and scratch out stories on that weird wide-ruled manila paper we used in Kindergarten. Writing is in my bones.
So is music. I play piano by ear (yes, I can read music… poorly), and while I spent 17 years as a church organist, I’ve since traded sanctuaries for song circles. I also play the ukulele and a variety of other “flute-adjacent” instruments—but not the actual flute, for reasons unknown to science. Sometimes I’m allowed to play with percussion instruments at concerts. You’ve been warned.
I garden with a stunning combination of enthusiasm (spring) and laziness (every other season). I crochet with wild abandon. I make herbal tinctures that may or may not heal your soul. I am equal parts green witch and lazy gnome.
I have ADHD. That means my brain runs a little wild sometimes—but it also means I see connections others miss, and I care deeply about the things I do. I don’t start from the same baseline as neurotypical folks, but I bring curiosity, honesty, and a little magic to every table I sit at.
Frank Lloyd Wright once said, “I believe in God, only I spell it N-A-T-U-R-E.” Same. These days, the closest I get to a spiritual practice is noticing—sunlight on Douglas firs, the hush before a song starts, the way Dodger sighs in his sleep.
So that’s me. If we’re ever in the same space at the same time, you’ll probably recognize me: I’ll be the one laughing, making inappropriate (but never mean!) jokes, or ordering a steaming mug of something with extra shots from a coffee hut. Come say hi!
Places to Find Me
I teach expressive writing and lead local and online workshops.
My Medium blog where I share vulnerable and honest personal essays and memoir.