I'm Reagan Kendrick , writer, former figure skater, and someone who came to the word indolent the hard way. I'm based in Richmond, Virginia, where I am also a mother, a daughter, a cat-lady, and a woman who has learned to read the subtext of her own life.

A few years ago, a cancer diagnosis handed me a word I hadn't expected to apply to myself: indolent. Lazy. Slow-moving. Low-grade. I recognized it immediately, not just in the pathology report, but in the way I'd been living. Cancer has a way of making the dormant things in you suddenly unbearable to leave unexamined. So I stopped leaving them.

Now I write lyric non-fiction about the things that shaped me and the woman I'm still becoming. Memory. Midlife. Motherhood. The mother wound, the one that forms not from cruelty but from a mother who was too occupied with her own wounds to tend to yours. I write about what it costs us, and what it takes to stop paying.

I write The Indolent Girl, a Substack about identity, transformation, and the stories we inherit from the women who came before us. I'm at work on a memoir. The cats, there are two of them, opinionated and unhelpful, are enthusiastic about this project.

I hold a B.A. in Theatre from Cleveland State University and have spent seventeen years in nonprofit work, which is to say I've spent most of my life telling stories, in one form or another.

I believe in energy and meditation, in being kind, and that there is nothing the sound of water can't fix. I am allergic to cilantro, which I consider a personality. I have a deeply irrational fear of E.T. (the alien, not the concept) and I have made my peace with that.