I Write Things

This is my ✨dream house✨—tucked into the woods of Arkansas. It was actually my grandfather’s vision, built from everything he ever wanted. Somehow, it became the setting for everything I imagine, too.

There’s something about it that lingers. Like it’s holding more than memories.
It haunts me, in the quiet way places do when they mean too much.

Hi. I’m April. I write things.

Mostly essays and short books. Mostly about grief, memory, and whatever mood won’t let go. Writing is how I keep it contained.