Do you really believe the universe is talking to you?

And other fun FAQs. 

Who are you?

I’m Casey and I’m obsessed with helping women become the biggest, brightest, most brilliant version of themselves because that’s how we’re going to change the world.

I’m a big middle finger to the patriarchy which has us playing small; hiding our gifts and talents; feeling like we have to be everything to everyone; doubting ourselves; constantly seeking approval; feeling like we have to do everything perfectly; beating ourselves up over every tiny mistake and overriding our own intuition. 

That shit’s exhausting. No wonder so many of us are scattered, depleted and feel like we’re staring down a dark hole of overwhelm.

I know that place all too well and I have no intention of going back. 

What saves me every time I skate too close to the overwhelm abyss is turning back to the tools, practices and rituals—the magic lessons—that remind me how fucking amazing I am and give me the clarity, focus and breathing space to make progress on the things that matter to me most—including listening to my kid tell me stories of her day.

The women I work closely with are writing books that require more than just strategy to finish. We find that together. 

How exactly can you help me?

By showing you how to be the kind of woman who changes lives, just by being YOU. 

This means you actually get to be you—the biggest, brightest, most brilliant version of you. The one who knows exactly who she is, who trusts herself and who has the confidence to put herself and her work out in the world. The YOU who pitches top-rated podcasts, steps onto TEDx stages, lands your dream agent and who never hesitates to answer the question: So, what do you do? Because you believe in yourself and know the kind of impact you can make. 

I created the Ruby Slipper School of Magic as a place for you to step into your own ruby slippers and realize, you’ve always had the power.

What is this place? 

The Ruby Slipper School of Magic is the expansive umbrella that covers all of my work. I’m a writer, coach and curator of creative community—all so you can learn to own your magic. 

Here you’ll find resources to help you:

• Trust your magic and stop hiding. Behind perfection. Behind busy-ness. Behind your laptop (tinkering with your website, watching yet another webinar and, let’s be honest, sometimes Netflix), because you’re not-quite-ready-yet
• Learn to trust your intuition (so you can stop overthinking and make a damn decision already)
• Find like-minded love bugs who understand what you’re trying to accomplish, will hold your big vision with you and will reflect your brilliance back to you (when you inevitably forget)

Why is it called Ruby Slipper School of Magic?

Growing up I loved The Wizard of Oz. It used to air at Thanksgiving and every year I’d scour the TV guide to make sure I didn’t miss it. Years later it dawned on me how ahead of its time it was. I’m not talking about the visual effects—although the house landing on the Wicked Witch was pretty impressive—I’m talking about a female lead, in 1939, one who’s looking for her place in the world, trying to find “home” and who comes to realize everything she needed was with her all along, she “always had the power”.

Those ruby slippers burned themselves in my brain, a sparkly symbol of female empowerment, in a world that constantly told me that I was “less than”. Every woman deserves to step into her ruby shoes and “come home”, to herself!

Why should I care?

Because until you know who you are, how the hell are you ever gonna know what you’re capable of becoming?

Knowing who you are. Coming home to yourself. Owning your magic. Being the biggest, brightest, most brilliant version of yourself. Stepping into your ruby shoes. 

I’m a writer, so I say it a bunch of different ways, but the essence is the same—I want you to be crystal-fucking-clear on your brilliance; have Prada bags full of confidence; and all the time, energy and delicious breathing space you need to make your dreams (including the ones you haven’t yet imagined) come true.

Do you really believe the universe is speaking to you?

I do! In fact, learning to trust that is a big part of the memoir I’m writing. I believe the universe is always speaking to us, sending us signs, symbols and synchronicities—constantly conspiring to bring us home to ourselves. The little whisper from within, the perfect song shuffling into your Spotify, the person who arrives in your world just as you need to hear what they have to say. Paying attention and trusting these “divine winks” is life-changing. 

I come from a long line of Irish storytellers, from a pocket of Ireland known for story. My great-uncle Eamon was one of the last recorded Seanchaí — the oral keepers of myth, legend, and history who preserved the past entirely through story. I grew up listening to my grandmother tell stories of home, of London in the Blitz, of her early years as a war bride in Calgary. It's probably why I became a writer. It's definitely why I'm obsessed with the power stories have to shape us, define us — and sometimes quietly contain us. Learning to write your way through that, to find what's underneath, is some of the most important work I do.

What’s the book you're writing about?

One-line version: Life is hard until you allow the magic of the universe to lead you home to yourself. 

Back of the book version: It’s a memoir about how my family's legacy of Irish Catholic conservatism and mainstream misogyny left me believing I was broken and set me on a journey through men, music and eventually the magical mists of Ireland in search of belonging and a place to call home, blind to the fact that the one thing I believed was keeping me safe was actually keeping me separate.

Is it true you wrote a piece for The New York Times... submitted it... had it accepted... and published...

All in the same week?

Yup, that’s true too. How? See the previous answer. Basically, I got a feeling—a divine wink—that let me know it was a done deal. My job was to write it, the universe would take care of the rest. The “juice” and “magic” were palpable, all I had to do was put the words on the page. So that’s what I did. Next thing I knew I was holding a copy of the Times, reading my own story.