Written in the Stars

January 14, 2026

With a name like Cassiopeia, I was probably always going to end up learning a little about mythology. But it did not really take hold until sixth grade, when my teacher Mrs. Neuhaus suggested I read Wishbone’s Iliad and Odyssey. At the time, I was not a big fiction reader. I gravitated toward nonfiction books about places on Earth, dog and horse breeds, and the Titanic. Something about mythology through that lens clicked for me. I am not sure if it was the familiarity of a dog telling the story or the myths themselves, but I was hooked.

By junior year, my literature teacher Mr. Nash actually rearranged our curriculum to spend more time on mythology after seeing my name on the roster. That still makes me smile. If you know nothing about the myth tied to my name, Cassiopeia was a queen who bragged about her beauty to anyone who would listen. She even claimed she and her daughter were more beautiful than Poseidon’s sea nymphs. In response, Poseidon sent the sea monster Cetus to destroy her land. The only way to stop it was for Cassiopeia to sacrifice her daughter Andromeda. And so she did.

Perseus, fresh from killing Medusa, came across Andromeda chained to a rock. He offered to save her in exchange for her hand in marriage. Cassiopeia agreed. Andromeda was saved. Cetus was slain. Then Cassiopeia went back on her word, deciding her daughter was too good for Perseus. In response, Perseus turned Cassiopeia to stone with Medusa’s head. She was placed in the sky as a lesson for her vanity.

Of course the gods were threatened by a confident woman. Of course the hero only saved the innocent victim when there was something in it for him. Of course a woman’s value was reduced to who she could be married to.

As a kid, that realization made me angry and sad. Being raised by a single disabled mother will do that to you. Once you start noticing inequity, it becomes impossible to unsee it. I remember throwing books and arguing with stories that made Medusa the villain. I questioned Maleficent long before her story was rewritten. I sympathized with monsters, cursed women, and characters framed as warnings. The double standards in these stories were impossible to ignore, and they have existed for as long as stories have been told.

Growing up with ADHD, I was always too loud, too opinionated, too emotional. I was asked if I got to talk at home. I was told I needed to be a better example for my sisters. Oldest daughter energy in its purest form. You start shrinking yourself. You become more digestible. You soften your edges until one day you are not sure who you are underneath all that adjustment.

LOUD exists because of that. Choosing names like Medusa, Cetus, Corvus, and Lyra is not accidental. Reclaiming words, stories, and characters that were dismissed or punished has always been intentional for me. From owning my ADHD to collections like the Goddess Trio, Brain Rot, and even my love for the Grinch, I am drawn to the misunderstood. I care deeply about showing how the so called bad guy became framed that way in the first place.

This collection, The Night Remembers, came together from that same place. It is about what comes after. The aftermath. The record left behind. Medusa is the most personal shade in the collection for me. She is tied directly to my own myth, but also to the way her story was twisted and her punishment forced upon her. Her power was never chosen. It was imposed. And yet it became protection.

These constellations were not written into the sky to celebrate victory. They exist as reminders. Of consequence. Of survival. Of power reclaimed and stories that did not disappear just because they made people uncomfortable.

If you have ever seen yourself in the villain, the monster, or the cautionary tale, this collection is for you. I hope you feel seen. I hope you feel validated. And I hope you walk away knowing that the stories we connect with most often say more about our strength than our flaws.