The Story
I Called It Paying Attention.
I spent thirty years in the field, hauling a couch across South Carolina so teenagers in small towns had somewhere to sit and talk about their lives, bouncing down desert roads in Baja, talking to students in Compton, making cheese at 4 AM with some of the best cheesemakers in the world. I was looking for the same thing every time: the moment someone found the words for what they actually believed.
The industry called it word of mouth marketing. I called it paying attention.
My ADHD brain kept me moving. I outran every quiet moment for three decades. I stood on stages in Vegas and Orlando and London preaching the gospel of human connection while I was running from my own.
Then, in August 2024, my legs stopped working. I hit the concrete floor and the person who got up was not the person who fell.
What you'll find on this site is what came back up. Two books in two registers (one memoir, one Southern Gothic fiction), both rooted in the same question: how do we make meaning when the old story stops working?

Geno Church.
Storyteller working in two registers. Memoir and Southern Gothic fiction.
Same obsession in both: how myth makes meaning when the map gives out.