When I was born, my dad started recording copious amounts of footage that would eventually make their way into a home movie called The Tori Story. The final product opens with a Star Wars-style title sequence (he was very committed to the bit and it was the 90s), and it documents the highlights of my first year of life—my first steps (followed by my first fall), my first birthday, my first Christmas, and my first words (dog, no, mom, dad, and fridge in no particular order). Somehow, with just one year of source material and 26 minutes of footage, he managed to capture the essence of who I am: defiant, playful, expressive, nurturing, and endlessly curious.
Although my Dad couldn’t have predicted it at the time, I, too, would eventually fall in love with the art of storytelling. What started with a love of bedtime stories and a fierce commitment to make-believe, turned into a pursuit of a B.A. in History at UCLA, where I studied the social movements of the 1950s-70s—learning how politics and culture intertwined to impact the direction of society. I had no idea what I would do with a degree in History, but I was fascinated by the ways in which ordinary people could shape the direction of an entire era. I threw myself into the rich stories of that time period because I believed—and still do believe—that human stories deserve our attention.
After college, I started to explore new ways to tell stories—writing obituaries at The Hollywood Reporter, interviewing celebrities at Flaunt Magazine, reviewing scripts at Millennium Films. I went on to support Playboy with its rebrand, where I helped to reinstate the brand’s legacy as a home for progressive voices and bold storytelling. I’ve had the privilege of helping aspiring authors develop and refine their book concepts—and, more recently, supported the executive search and consulting firm DSG Global with its rebrand.
Outside of my professional career, the gravitational pull of storytelling follows me: Ghostwriting thoughtful breakup texts, helping friends create dating profiles that reflect who they are, editing wedding speeches for maximum tear-jerking, you name it. I am perhaps most passionate about my volunteer work at Our House Grief Support Center, where I have the honor of being a facilitator (and witness) to grievers who choose to bravely share their stories in small support groups.
To me, storytelling is a way to build bridges across divides, drive meaningful action, and remind people they’re never alone in this world. Whether I’m ghostwriting for someone on the C-suite, reworking brand language after a crisis, or helping someone find the words for a chapter they’re nervous to tell—I approach it all with the same belief: stories, when told with intention, can change the world.
