My first exposure to ballroom dancing was in 2011. Like so many others, ballroom quickly became a true passion for me and reawakened other passions as well. In between private lessons and group classes, I rediscovered my love for writing and began blogging about my ballroom journey via the pen name, The Girl with the Tree Tattoo. 

The Girl with the Tree Tattoo blog started as a place for me to document and reflect on my dance journey as an adult who was also working full-time. The name of the blog was inspired by my full-back tree tattoo and others telling me, “hey, you’re like that girl with the dragon except you have a tree!” Once I began competing in 2014, I always wore a backless dress at events because it was important to me that I didn’t hide part of who I was simply because tattoos were taboo in the ballroom world.

By my second year of competing, people were coming up to me at events, having recognized my tattoo, to tell me how much they appreciate my open honesty on my blog. Learning up to 20 different dances within the ballroom style to a level advanced enough for competition was a unique experience when you were starting out as a 30, 40, or 50-year-old, and no one was really talking about it. I realized I was filling a gap. My fellow pro-am dancers needed someone to speak out about the challenges they were facing who actually understood those challenges because they had also lived them. 

At the same time, ballroom dance was helping me discover who I truly was, beneath thick layers of fear and self-doubt. It gave me the courage to not only step out on the dance floor and walk away a champion multiple times over, but to finally accomplish my dream of becoming a published author.

I published three books, all around the experiences of the pro-am ballroom student, as well as two dance journals. My heart swelled every time I met another dancer who, through my writing, found the courage, support or inspiration they needed to keep going on their dance journey. It’s hard to be a passionate dancer AND a parent AND a career person, but these dancers were doing all they could to make it happen. I would receive messages from people telling me that they were ready to give up on their dancing dreams and then they found an article I had written about the topic they were struggling with, and they decided to keep going instead. It was hard for me to imagine that I was able to have such a huge impact on someone’s life, but the heart-felt emails or direct messages kept coming and all I could feel was gratitude and honor to be a part of someone else’s artistic journey. 

My third book, The Solo Practice Guide for Ballroom Dancing, was born out of one of the most difficult years of my dance journey. I was an early success in my competitive career as a pro-am ballroom dancer, consistently placing 1st or 2nd at every event I entered. But in 2017, I found myself faltering in my placements without a clear explanation. Each competition that year, I placed lower than the one before. It all came down to an ego-crushing end at the 2017 World Championships where I placed lower than I ever had before. The cruel twist is I felt like I had danced better than I ever had. 

The loss made all of the previous victories seem like lies. How could I be such a great dancer as my coach and others claimed when I placed so poorly after feeling like I danced my best?

After throwing a minor tantrum, I decided that was the last time I would ever let my results blindside me in such a devastating way. I sought feedback and advice from multiple dance coaches who had seen my dancing, and received some hard truths: 

1. I hadn’t been as prepared with my choreography as I thought I was. 
2. When I danced, I looked like I was seeking approval from the judges rather than owning my dancing with confidence.

I shut down my ego’s desire to throw another pity party. I was determined to make a comeback. I had identified my improvement areas, but how was I going to work on them? 

Traditionally, a ballroom dance student simply takes more lessons with their teacher when they want to improve faster. I was on a very strict budget though and could not afford more private lessons. I would have to work on my dancing on my own time. Practicing a partner dance on your own is awkward to say the least, but it was my only choice. 

Working full-time also meant I didn’t have the freedom to spend hours in the dance studio like a professional dancer would when they wanted to improve their skills. I tried to create a daily practice schedule that required just an hour of training every day, and immediately felt overwhelmed. So I went minimalist - I started with one hour of solo practice once a week. No pressure or stress, just a little bit of extra time devoted to my dancing.

The results happened quickly. Within a few weeks, I was dancing my four different routines on my own. I was able to stay on time with the music, keep my balance, and even stylize my movements without the benefit of a dance partner. When I did partner with my teacher to dance the routines together, the dances flowed. I was finally able to match my teacher’s effort and energy in the partnership. 

I maintained my weekly solo practice sessions and finally returned to those World Championships a year after my loss. My teacher and I danced away with the World Champion Title in my category!

This comeback story became the framework for The Solo Practice Guide, in which I shared not only what I practiced each week, but how I incorporated those practices into my already busy schedule. To this day, the book is my best-selling publication and has been credited for helping others reach that champion status.

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