Why The Fang & The Fruit?

What building a meaningful life actually feels like — the parts we don't usually publish, but probably should.

I’ve always felt like I’m made of two parts.

There’s the porcupine. Alert, competent, a little guarded, occasionally prickly. She braces first and softens later. She built a company, held a team together, and kept a house, a family, and a very full life running without dropping the important pieces. (Mostly).

And then there’s the strawberry center — the part that cares so much it almost aches. The part that longs for connection, steadiness, warmth, quiet, space, and joy. So much joy.

The older I get, the more I see that a lot of us are built this way. Sharp edges around tender cores. We learned to be capable. We learned to anticipate. We learned to hold it all together.

And then one day we wake up still gripping — and wonder: for what? For who?

The Fang & The Fruit explores that tension. The drive and the softness. The instinct to grip and the work of holding. The kind of success that strengthens you — and the kind that quietly rearranges who you are.

I write from the middle of it all: as a founder who built and sold a company that became a second skin, as a mother of three in three entirely different stages (a teen, a tween, and a toddler), as a wife, and as a woman figuring out her next chapter in real time. Not from the finish line. From inside the dizziness of the middle.

If you’re building something wonderful and wondering why it feels heavier than you expected — why the achievement doesn’t always feel the way you imagined it would, why ambition and tenderness sometimes pull against each other hard enough to hurt — this is a place for that.

It’s for the interior life of ambitious adults. For the conversations that happen in kitchens after dinner, in parked cars between meetings, and in texts that start with “can I say something out loud?”

New writing, weekly. Essays. A recurring column called Holding. All the parts we don’t usually publish, but probably should.

— Becca

If this is your kind of place

If you’re building something — a business, a family, a second act, a more honest version of yourself — and sometimes wonder what it’s costing you, this is a place you’ll recognize.