Content
I have extensive experience in copywriting, branded and unbranded content, B2B and B2C, scriptwriting, email marketing, white papers, ghostwriting, training materials, documentation, content marketing, ghostwriting, creative writing, and journalism.
With advanced degrees in psychology and communication, I bring a deep understanding of narrative, audience, and positioning as it applies to marketing and content strategy.
Journalism
Editorials and news on pop culture, film, technology, and science for local and national publications.
Fiction
“Morgan plays in the myths and legends of our culture like a child playing in an old abandoned house. She explores the darkness, laughs at the shadows, gleefully celebrates the creepiness, and gingerly dances on creaking wooden floors never fearing she’ll fall. Morgan reuses the known to create the new, giving fresh life to age old terrors and delights. There’s a page-turning and side-splitting thrill to reading her work as the monsters that once hid under our beds now crawl beneath the sheets to draw close to us." -- Owen Egerton
Film and Video
Poetry
Knowing So Much
I cleaned the sheets and then I cleaned the mattress beneath them
in case the reason why you couldn’t be with me
was one of the stains you couldn’t see
when you’d sneak into my house
and out again
again
Knowing So Much
Knowing So Much
The Regional Office
Confetti flowers fall
like Oh Henry for the woman in red
every time I went to Oz I ordered
a cocktail and a mechanical heart
But the night heron keeps bringing me
words instead of coins
to feed the great calm maw
of the collection department
And somewhere between
Sweetwater giants and the
heady waters of the long-horned beasts
A sparrow bashed its brains out on the windshield of my Honda Odyssey
A voice in my head with no smell
keeps telling me me to take my time
but I'd rather take yours.
Persephone
The woman thought she was already dead and there was no convincing her otherwise
She shuffled through her waking grey life
Waiting to rot
She woke her husband in the night
Explaining that she must have died months ago
Begging him to tell her why
She had been condemned
Nothing was hers
Not him and not her fingertips or her legs
Not her hair
She left it in the sink
The dead men on the train knew
They watched the way she peeled back her nails
To see what was underneath
And when she rode through the crowded empty streets
When she opened the speeding car door and slid out under the wheels
She ripped and tore
She bent and shattered
Her life as persistent as her death
She didn’t feel anything at all
Haunted
These cold sheets still remember
how we'd fall asleep
in the strangest positions, baby.
Noses touching
faces making hearts
in negative space.
Or hands entwined,
thrust up where the pillows were before we made dark wild love
my back arched
your dreams and breath at my breast free fingers stroking lazy
hopeful
circles
on my soft stomach
Haunted
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