About.

Hi there. I'm Chris.

I run River, a real estate business in Maitland that my mum built before I did. Before that I was a plasterer. I still think with my hands more than I'd like to admit.

For most of my working life I wrote about winning. Leadership, growth, the business of building. All the right words in all the right places. Then a few years took the polish off. A seventeen-year marriage ended. Burnout put me in hospital. At a retreat, someone handed me a mask and asked me to write who I pretended to be on the outside, and who I actually was underneath. The mask was only a millimetre or so thick. Cheap plastic. But the gap between the two sides was a chasm.

So I started writing differently. Less neat. Less clever. More honest. Sometimes more honest than is comfortable.

This is where that writing lives. Essays about work, grief, focus, and what it costs to tell the truth. A notebook for the thinking in between. The books that earned their place.

The goal, of all of this, is to stay human.

If something here is useful to you, good. That's the whole reason it's public.