ABOUT THE AUTHOR
I write for the ones who keep one foot in the woods.
I'm Freya — a debut novelist living in a small house at the edge of a damp pine forest, writing slow, witchy stories about women who refuse to be small.
MY STORY
I came late to fiction. For a decade I worked as a folklore archivist, transcribing old wives' tales no one quite believed but no one would let die either. My debut novel, The Hour of Moths, grew out of one of those transcripts — a single line about a girl who could call moths to her by name.
I write the kind of books I always wanted on my own shelf: lyrical, atmospheric, a little eerie, and tender at the spine. Stories where the magic is real but quieter than the grief, and where women older than the village remember the names of every tree.
I write the kind of books I always wanted on my own shelf: lyrical, atmospheric, a little eerie, and tender at the spine. Stories where the magic is real but quieter than the grief, and where women older than the village remember the names of every tree.
"Books are spells. Mine are slow ones."
LIVES IN
A foggy patch of the Pacific Northwest
WRITES ABOUT
Witches, grief, the in-between hours
READS LIKE
Madeline Miller meets Shirley Jackson
SEND A LETTER
Whisper through the veil.
For press, events, or a quiet word from a fellow reader of the strange.