The Moonlit Trifecta: Where Healthcare, Code, and Creativity Converge

ℳost developers can tell you their origin story in a sentence: "I learned to code, got a job, here we are." Mine involves IVs, fantasy novels, and a whole lot of existential questioning about what it means to build things that matter.

I'm not a traditional anything. Not a traditional developer (I care way too much about aesthetics and user feelings). Not a traditional healthcare worker (I'd rather debug a system than stick another IV). Not a traditional creative (I measure success in conversion rates, not just vibes). I'm the intersection of all three—and honestly? That's where the magic lives.

Element One: Healing

Let's start with the part that usually confuses people. Yes, I worked in healthcare. Yes, I understand clinical workflows, HIPAA compliance, and why EHR systems make nurses want to scream into the void. But here's what that experience really taught me: systems should serve people, not the other way around.

In healthcare, every click matters. Every confusing interface delays care. Every poorly designed system adds cognitive load to already-exhausted clinicians. I've watched brilliant nurses waste time wrestling with technology that should be helping them. I've seen patients confused by portals that require an IT degree to navigate. And I thought, "Someone should fix this."

Plot twist: I became that someone. But not by staying in traditional healthcare roles. By learning to build the systems myself—only better. Faster. More intuitive. Actually designed for the humans using them.

Element Two: Building

Code is logic. Code is structure. Code is the skeleton that everything else hangs on. And I love it—the way a well-architected system feels like a symphony, the satisfaction of solving a problem that's been haunting you for days, the moment when everything finally compiles and runs exactly as intended.

But here's the thing about being a developer with a healthcare background: I don't just build features. I build solutions. There's a difference.

A feature is "We added a chat function." A solution is "We reduced patient anxiety by 40% because they can now message their care team at 2am when they're panicking about symptoms." A feature is "We implemented AI." A solution is "Nurses save 2 hours per shift because documentation is automated and actually accurate."

I code in React, Next.js, TypeScript, Python—whatever the project needs. But the why behind the code? That comes from understanding the humans on the other side of the screen. The nurse working a 12-hour shift. The small business owner juggling ten things at once. The patient trying to manage their health while also just… living their life.

The Tech Stack That Makes Sense

I'm not precious about technology. I don't gatekeep or evangelize. The right tool is the one that solves the problem for this specific client—not the one that looks best on my GitHub or fits the latest trend.

• Next.js & React: For fast, scalable web apps that feel buttery smooth
• TypeScript: Because catching errors before production is self-care
• Python & AI integrations: For the smart automation stuff—RAG chatbots, data analysis, process optimization
• Healthcare APIs: HL7, FHIR, EHR integrations that actually work
• Whatever else the project needs: I'm tool-agnostic and problem-obsessed

Element Three: Storytelling

Here's the wildcard: I'm also a published author. Fantasy romance, to be specific. 300,000+ words of magic systems, character arcs, and emotional devastation (the good kind). And before you ask—yes, this absolutely makes me a better developer and designer.

Because storytelling isn't just about novels. It's about experience. Every website tells a story. Every user flow is a narrative arc. Every piece of copy either pulls you in or pushes you away. Most developers treat content as an afterthought. I treat it as the foundation.

When I design a website, I'm thinking: What's the hero's journey here? What does the user feel when they land on this page? What transformation are we guiding them toward? A small business owner who's overwhelmed needs to feel understood before they're ready to click "Book a Call." A patient accessing a portal needs to feel safe before they'll trust the system with their data.

The Ghibli Effect

I talk a lot about Studio Ghibli UX—this idea that websites should feel cozy, intentional, and emotionally resonant instead of aggressive and transactional. That philosophy comes straight from storytelling. Hayao Miyazaki doesn't assault you with marketing. He invites you into a world and makes you want to stay. That's what I aim for with every project.

No aggressive popups. No dark patterns. No guilt-tripping countdown timers. Just thoughtful design that respects your intelligence, serves your needs, and—here's the revolutionary part—actually makes you enjoy using the website.

Where the Three Converge: Moonlit Studios

So what happens when you combine healthcare insight, development expertise, and storytelling craft? You get Moonlit Studios—a place where solutions are built with empathy, designed with intention, and delivered with a level of craft that most agencies just... don't bother with.

I work with healthcare organizations that need systems that don't suck. Small businesses that want AI-powered tools without the enterprise budget. Creatives who need digital presences that actually represent their work. Enterprises navigating digital transformation who are tired of consultants who've never touched production code.

And because I sit at this weird intersection of worlds, I can:

• Build HIPAA-compliant telehealth platforms that clinicians actually want to use
• Design patient portals that reduce support calls because they're actually intuitive
• Create AI chatbots that understand context and brand voice, not just generic responses
• Write website copy that converts because it tells a story, not just lists features
• Develop booking systems, email automation, and business tools that work—no bloat, no friction
• Consult on tech strategy with someone who's actually built systems at scale, not just theorized about them

The Moonlit Philosophy

At the core of everything I build is this belief: Technology should amplify human potential, not replace human connection.

AI should save you time so you can focus on the work that matters—not make you obsolete. Automation should handle the tedious stuff—not strip away the personal touch that makes your business special. Websites should convert visitors—but not by manipulating them into clicking things they'll regret.

I care about accessible design (because everyone deserves good UX). I care about performance (because your users aren't all on gigabit fiber). I care about security (because "it probably won't get hacked" is not a strategy). And I care about whether the thing I'm building actually solves the problem—not just checks a box on a project brief.

Not Your Typical Origin Story

So no, I can't give you the neat, linear developer origin story. Mine zigs where others zag. It includes patient care and fantasy novels and late-night debugging sessions fueled by cold brew and spite. It doesn't fit neatly into a LinkedIn headline.

But that's exactly why it works. The best solutions don't come from staying in your lane—they come from borrowing liberally from every lane you've ever driven in and building something new at the intersection.

Healthcare taught me empathy. Code taught me structure. Storytelling taught me how to make people feel. And Moonlit Studios? That's where all three elements converge into something that actually works.

Welcome to the trifecta. ✨