Executive Coaching for Women in Tech

The Unique Psychological Landscape of Women in Tech

Aisha sits at her desk long after the office has emptied. The glow of her laptop screen casts sharp shadows on her face, revealing the tight line of her jaw and the slight quiver in her fingers as she scrolls through the latest budget projections. She’s the VP of Engineering at a Series C startup, managing 140 people, but the weight she carries feels far heavier than any org chart could reveal. The burn rate alone keeps her awake—each dollar spent a pulse in the frenetic rhythm that threatens to unspool everything. Meanwhile, her CEO flips the roadmap like a deck of cards, reshuffling priorities weekly, leaving Aisha scrambling to realign her team’s work and morale. She’s the only woman on the executive team, and with every meeting, every hallway conversation, she’s translating her value into a language that fits the ‘bro culture’ swirling around her. That constant code-switching exhausts her, bone-deep. And the worst part? The terrifying realization that her stock options are the only tether holding her in place. Walk away, and what remains? It’s a pressure cooker of isolation, invisibility, and relentless demand.

For women considering a change — whether leaving a firm, stepping back from a role, or reimagining what’s next — the decision is rarely just professional. It’s deeply psychological, touching on identity, worth, and the complex grief of career transitions.

What Aisha experiences is, sadly, all too common among driven women in tech. The psychological terrain they navigate is complex and fraught, shaped not only by the overt challenges of leadership but also by the subtle, persistent relational dynamics that impact the brain’s safety systems. From a neurobiological standpoint, chronic stress like Aisha’s keeps the amygdala—the brain’s alarm center—on high alert. This hypervigilance drains the prefrontal cortex, the area responsible for executive function, decision-making, and emotional regulation. In other words, the very skills that have propelled her to this role become compromised under the weight of relentless pressure and constant threat cues.

Over time, this kind of sustained, inescapable stress can produce symptoms that look remarkably similar to complex PTSD — not from a single event, but from the cumulative weight of years spent in a system that treats human limits as defects.

At the same time, relational trauma theory helps us understand the deep, often invisible wounds inflicted by environments that lack attunement and safety. When Aisha must constantly translate herself to be heard, she’s signaling that her authentic self isn’t fully seen or valued. This kind of emotional labor is exhausting because it requires sustained self-monitoring and suppression of natural responses. Her nervous system learns to brace for dismissal or invalidation, which can trigger patterns of dissociation or hyperarousal—both adaptive responses to relational threat, but ultimately costly to her well-being and leadership presence.

Many driven women I work with didn’t experience overt abuse — they experienced something subtler and, in some ways, harder to name: childhood emotional neglect, the absence of attunement that teaches a child her emotions don’t matter.

And here’s the both/and reality: Aisha is incredibly competent, ambitious, and resilient—qualities that have brought her to the executive table. Yet, she’s also navigating an environment that can feel alienating and unsafe on a fundamental human level. The paradox is that success in tech leadership often demands a degree of self-containment and toughness that can inadvertently deepen isolation and internal conflict. The ‘bro culture’ she endures isn’t just about gender dynamics; it’s about systemic patterns that prioritize competition and dominance over connection and psychological safety. This disconnect creates a tension in her nervous system, between the drive to push forward and the instinct to protect herself from ongoing relational injury.

These relational patterns often trace back to early attachment experiences — the blueprint your nervous system created in childhood for how relationships work, what you can expect from others, and how much of yourself it’s safe to show.

Recognizing this unique psychological landscape is critical in my practice. It’s not about fixing Aisha or asking her to toughen up; it’s about creating space where her nervous system can downshift from survival mode, where her leadership can emerge from a grounded, embodied sense of self rather than constant hypervigilance. Executive coaching for women like Aisha integrates clinical insight with practical strategies to recalibrate this balance—honoring both the fierce ambition that fuels her and the deep human need for safety, validation, and authentic connection.

The Neurobiology of Constant Pivot and Burn Rate Anxiety

When I meet driven women like Aisha—VP of Engineering, managing massive teams, steering a startup’s ship through choppy waters—I see a familiar neurobiological pattern unfolding beneath the surface of their relentless schedules and boardroom battles. The constant pivot demanded by her CEO’s ever-shifting roadmap doesn’t just create strategic chaos; it triggers a deep, embodied response in her nervous system that fuels burn rate anxiety and existential exhaustion.

This isn’t ordinary fatigue. It’s executive burnout — the specific kind of depletion that occurs when a driven woman has been running on adrenaline and achievement for so long that her nervous system has begun to shut down its capacity for pleasure, rest, and connection.

Our brains are wired to seek safety and predictability. When the external environment feels unstable—like Aisha’s weekly roadmap changes—her brain’s alarm systems activate. This isn’t just a metaphorical alarm; it’s a very real neurochemical cascade involving the amygdala, the hippocampus, and the prefrontal cortex. The amygdala, our brain’s threat detector, senses unpredictability as a potential threat and kicks off a fight/flight/freeze response. Meanwhile, the hippocampus struggles to contextualize the shifting information, trying to make sense of what’s safe and what isn’t. And the prefrontal cortex, responsible for executive functions like decision-making and emotional regulation, becomes overwhelmed by the volume of uncertainty, making it harder to stay grounded and strategic.

What I often see in my practice is that women like Aisha are navigating these neurobiological responses while also carrying the weight of relational trauma. Being the only woman on an executive team dominated by a “bro culture” means not just managing projects but constantly translating, negotiating, and sometimes code-switching to be heard and respected. This relational landscape—where microaggressions, subtle invalidations, and overt dismissals occur—activates the attachment system in ways that mirror early relational wounds. The brain’s threat response becomes intertwined with a deep-seated need for belonging and safety, creating a both/and tension: Aisha is simultaneously driven to succeed and terrified of losing her place at the table.

Burn rate anxiety taps into this neurobiological and relational mix with a particular ferocity. It’s not just about dollars and runway; it’s about the gut-wrenching fear of instability, loss, and invisibility. The stock options, while a financial tether, become a psychological anchor—both a source of hope and a reminder of what’s at stake. This creates a chronic state of hypervigilance, where Aisha’s nervous system remains on high alert, exhausting her capacity to rest and recover.

In my work with ambitious women in tech, I emphasize that this is a both/and experience: the drive to pivot and adapt is a remarkable strength, a testament to resilience and intelligence, AND it comes at a biological cost when safety is compromised. Recognizing this neurobiological reality reframes burn rate anxiety not as a personal failing but as an understandable, embodied response to a high-demand, low-safety environment.

The path forward requires more than strategic planning; it requires creating relational and internal safety that recalibrates the nervous system. This means cultivating practices and professional alliances that affirm Aisha’s voice and value, while also developing somatic tools that help her nervous system downshift from fight/flight to rest and digest. It’s about honoring the complexity of her experience—the simultaneous brilliance and vulnerability—and supporting her in reclaiming a sense of grounded agency amid the chaos.

The ‘Only’ Experience in Silicon Valley

Being the “only” in Silicon Valley is a double-edged sword that cuts deeper than most people realize. I’ve worked with many driven women like Aisha, who carry the weight of leadership in environments where they’re not just a minority—they’re often the sole representative of their gender, their voice, their way of being. This dynamic triggers a complex neurobiological response that’s both exhausting and isolating. When you’re the only woman on an executive team, your brain is constantly toggling between hypervigilance and emotional suppression—a survival mode that feels necessary to stay in the room but drains your capacity to lead with authenticity and presence.

From a relational trauma perspective, this scenario often activates old attachment wounds. Our nervous system is wired to seek safety in connection, but when you’re perpetually navigating a “bro culture” that requires you to constantly code-switch, translate, and defend your expertise, your nervous system remains stuck in a state of threat detection. You’re balancing on a tightrope where every interaction feels like a test: Will you be heard? Will you be respected? Or will you be sidelined again? This persistent stress floods your brain with cortisol and adrenaline, which over time rewires your neural pathways to expect danger in spaces that should be safe and collaborative.

In my practice, I often hear women describe this experience as a form of relational loneliness. It’s the ache of being visible but unseen, valued for your output but questioned for your presence. You can be brilliant, strategic, and decisive—and still feel like you’re invisible or worse, that your contributions are minimized. This “only” experience isn’t just about numbers or representation; it’s about the quality of relational safety in your environment. Without that safety, your prefrontal cortex—the part of your brain responsible for executive function, emotional regulation, and creative problem-solving—gets hijacked by the amygdala’s fight/flight/freeze response.

This is the paradox I see most often in my practice: women who’ve built extraordinary external lives and feel a hollowness they can’t explain. If this resonates, you’re not alone — it’s one of the most common presentations among driven women who have everything and feel nothing.

Both the cognitive load and the emotional labor required to navigate this terrain are immense. Aisha, for instance, is managing a team of 140 people, a burn rate that keeps her up at night, and a CEO whose shifting roadmap feels like trying to hit a moving target blindfolded. And yet, she’s holding all this while also being the only woman at the table—translating, advocating, code-switching, and often censoring her own voice to fit into a space that wasn’t designed for her. This is not just exhaustion; it’s a neurobiological toll that can manifest as chronic anxiety, burnout, or a creeping sense of imposter syndrome, even for the most successful and capable women.

In executive coaching, I work with women like Aisha to cultivate both resilience and restoration. We explore how to renegotiate relational boundaries and create internal safety strategies that recalibrate the nervous system. It’s about reclaiming agency in environments that feel unpredictable and unsafe, without losing sight of your ambition or your values. Both acknowledging the very real systemic challenges and nurturing your own nervous system healing are essential steps. You can’t pour from an empty cup, and to lead at your best, you need to feel seen, heard, and safe—not just externally, but within yourself.

Ultimately, the “only” experience in Silicon Valley is not just a professional hurdle; it’s a deeply relational and neurobiological one. It demands both fierce courage and tender self-compassion. And as a therapist and coach, I’m committed to helping ambitious women not only survive these environments but transform them—starting with the relationship you have with yourself.

When the Golden Handcuffs Are Made of Equity

When the golden handcuffs are made of equity, the bind is as invisible as it is relentless. I see this every day in my practice with driven women like Aisha—brilliant, ambitious leaders who’ve climbed the ranks in tech, only to find themselves tethered not by a lack of opportunity, but by the promise of future wealth. It’s a paradox that can deeply fracture one’s sense of safety and agency.

Equity feels like freedom on paper—the myth of ownership, of having skin in the game. But neurobiologically, the brain doesn’t register stock options as a safety net in the here and now. Instead, it registers uncertainty, unpredictability, and the chronic stress of “what if?” What if the company pivots? What if the market crashes? What if the CEO’s shifting roadmap means everything you’ve built could be devalued overnight? This breeds a state of hypervigilance in the nervous system—a readiness to respond to threat—that’s exhausting and erodes emotional resilience.

From a relational trauma perspective, Aisha’s experience is compounded by her being the only woman on the executive team, navigating a culture that often demands she translate herself into a language she didn’t create. This constant self-monitoring—modulating tone, filtering ideas, adapting to an unspoken “bro code”—activates the social engagement system in a way that’s draining. Her nervous system is caught in a bind: wanting to belong and be heard, yet simultaneously bracing for subtle rejection or invalidation. This is the neurobiology of feeling both hyper-visible and invisible at once.

Both the allure and the trap of equity-based golden handcuffs lie in their ambiguity. They offer a future promise of reward, and yet they demand a present sacrifice of wellbeing and autonomy. Aisha’s exhaustion doesn’t just come from managing a large team or a volatile CEO; it’s also the psychic toll of tethering her sense of worth and security to a fluctuating stock price. The limbic system—the brain’s emotional center—doesn’t negotiate with financial spreadsheets. It responds to patterns of safety and connection. When the ground shifts beneath her, her nervous system rightly protests.

In my work with women like Aisha, I help them reclaim a sense of embodied agency within this paradox. We explore how to recognize and name the stress signals—tightness in the chest, restless mind, sleep disturbances—as legitimate nervous system alarms rather than personal failings. We cultivate somatic practices that anchor them in the present moment, recalibrating the stress response so it’s not perpetually stuck in fight, flight, or freeze.

At the same time, we hold the reality that walking away from equity isn’t always an option, nor a simple fix. The golden handcuffs can feel like both a lifeline and a leash, both a promise and a prison. Navigating this tension requires a nuanced approach: strengthening internal resources, fostering authentic connection with trusted peers or mentors, and creating mental frameworks that disentangle self-worth from stock valuations.

For many driven women, this dynamic echoes what clinicians call betrayal trauma — the specific injury that occurs when the person or institution you depend on is also the source of your harm.

Equity shouldn’t have to feel like a cage. When we understand the neurobiology at play, and the relational dynamics that shape our experience, we can begin to rewrite the narrative. We can hold space for the grief of what’s being given up, alongside the courage to imagine new possibilities. For women like Aisha, this both/and approach isn’t just empowering—it’s necessary for survival and sustained success in an environment that often feels anything but safe.

Both/And: You Love the Innovation AND The Culture Is Crushing You

It’s absolutely possible — and entirely human — to love the pulse of innovation that drives your work in tech, while simultaneously feeling the weight of a culture that chips away at your spirit. In my practice, I meet many driven women like Aisha, who wake up energized by the promise of groundbreaking ideas but end their days exhausted by the emotional labor their environment demands. This is the lived experience of the both/and: you thrive on creating the future, and at the same time, the current culture can feel crushingly isolating.

The brain’s limbic system—the seat of emotion and threat detection—is constantly scanning for safety. When you’re the only woman on the executive team, navigating a bro culture filled with subtle (and not-so-subtle) microaggressions, your nervous system is on high alert. That constant vigilance, that need to translate your ideas into a language that “fits” the room, activates your sympathetic nervous system, flooding your body with stress hormones like cortisol and adrenaline. Over time, this chronic activation doesn’t just sap your energy; it rewires your brain’s stress response pathways, making it harder to regulate emotions and maintain a sense of safety in your professional environment.

Because the body holds what the mind has learned to suppress, somatic therapy is often essential in this work — helping driven women reconnect with the physical signals they’ve spent decades overriding.

Relational trauma theory helps us understand this dynamic deeply. The workplace culture, with its shifting expectations and the CEO’s weekly roadmap changes, can feel like an unpredictable attachment figure—unreliable, inconsistent, sometimes dismissive. Your brain craves predictability and attunement, but instead, it gets a pattern of uncertainty and dismissal. This dissonance triggers feelings of invisibility and undermines your sense of belonging, which is foundational to healthy brain function and emotional resilience.

Yet, here’s the both/and: your love for innovation is a powerful neurobiological resource. It activates your dopamine pathways, the brain’s reward centers, fueling motivation and creativity. This same drive that keeps you awake imagining new possibilities also creates a neurochemical buffer against stress. But buffers can only do so much when the culture continually signals “you don’t belong.”

In executive coaching, I help women like Aisha cultivate what I call “internal attunement anchors.” These are practices and therapeutic interventions designed to strengthen the prefrontal cortex’s regulatory influence over the limbic system. Through mindfulness, somatic awareness, and relational inquiry, we build capacity to hold the tension of loving the work while naming and containing the pain of the culture. This isn’t about pushing through or toughening up; it’s about learning to self-soothe and self-validate when external validation is scarce.

We also explore how to renegotiate boundaries and communication styles that honor your authentic voice without triggering defensive responses in others. This is critical because translation fatigue—the exhausting effort to decode and recode your ideas in “bro culture speak”—activates the fight/flight/freeze response repeatedly, leaving you depleted. Coaching provides a space to experiment with new relational strategies that reduce this neurobiological toll.

Finally, we address the existential tension of feeling tethered to a job by stock options that feel like a golden cage. Here, we engage in meaning-making work, anchoring your identity beyond the company’s fluctuating fortunes. This helps build resilience and a sense of agency, even when external circumstances feel unstable.

So yes, you can love the innovation and simultaneously feel crushed by the culture. Recognizing this both/and truth is the first step toward transforming your experience from one of depletion and disconnection to one of integration and empowerment. In my work, I hold space for both sides of this reality, helping you reclaim your nervous system’s capacity for safety and joy amidst the chaos.

The Systemic Lens: A Tech Ecosystem Built on Unsustainable Urgency

When I meet women like Aisha—driven, deeply talented, and utterly exhausted—I recognize a pattern that extends far beyond individual circumstances. This isn’t just about personal resilience or leadership skill; it’s about the ecosystem she inhabits. The tech world, with its relentless pace and unforgiving culture, often demands an unsustainable urgency that reverberates through every synapse of the nervous system.

In my practice, I witness how this systemic pressure triggers what we call “neurobiological alarm states.” Aisha’s brain is constantly scanning for threats: shifting roadmaps, the need to translate her ideas into the dominant language of “bro culture,” and the implicit message that her presence is conditional. Her amygdala—the brain’s threat detector—is stuck on high alert, while her prefrontal cortex—the seat of executive functioning and nuanced decision-making—is taxed and depleted. This neurobiological tension isn’t a sign of weakness; it’s an adaptive response to an environment that signals danger, even when the danger is subtle and relational rather than physical.

Here’s the both/and truth: Aisha’s ambition and her exhaustion coexist. She is both a fierce leader driving innovation and a human being whose nervous system is crying out for safety and recognition. The system she’s part of rewards speed and decisiveness, but it often undermines the relational attunement and psychological safety that sustain long-term success. The tech ecosystem, with its glorification of “move fast and break things,” frequently breaks the very people who build it.

This urgency is not accidental; it’s systemic. The constant pivoting and rapid scaling create a culture where burnout is normalized, and deep connection is sacrificed for short-term wins. For women like Aisha, this is compounded by the intersection of gender dynamics and cultural isolation. Being the only woman at the executive table means she’s not just managing projects and people, but also navigating a relational landscape that often invalidates her expertise and presence. This relational trauma—subtle, cumulative, and often minimized—shapes how she engages with her team and herself.

From a relational trauma perspective, Aisha’s experience can be understood as a chronic attunement failure. The system doesn’t just ignore her contributions; it implicitly communicates that her full self isn’t welcome. This kind of relational wounding activates primitive survival circuits, making it harder for her to access creativity, empathy, and the collaborative spirit that are crucial for leadership. Both her brain and her body are working overtime to manage this tension, which leaves her feeling depleted and isolated.

Executive coaching that truly supports women in tech must address both the individual and the systemic. It’s not enough to teach coping skills or productivity hacks. We have to create a space where Aisha’s nervous system can downshift, where relational attunement is restored, and where the unspoken weight of systemic urgency is named and held. This means helping her develop not only strategic clarity but also embodied resilience—practices that engage the vagus nerve, regulate the autonomic nervous system, and rebuild relational trust.

This persistent belief that you’ll be “found out” isn’t a character flaw — it’s what clinicians recognize as imposter syndrome rooted in relational trauma, a pattern that’s particularly prevalent among driven women in demanding fields.

Ultimately, the path forward honors both Aisha’s fierce drive and her need for sustainable well-being. It’s about shifting from surviving in a culture of hurry to thriving in a culture of presence. And it’s about recognizing that when the system changes, so too can the neurobiological and relational landscapes that shape her daily experience.

What Trauma-Informed Coaching Does for Tech Leaders

When I work with driven women like Aisha, the VP of Engineering juggling a 140-person team in a volatile startup environment, trauma-informed coaching isn’t just a luxury—it’s a necessity. It’s easy to assume that executive coaching is all about strategy, decision-making, and leadership presence. And yet, for women navigating tech’s relentless pace and toxic undercurrents, there’s often an invisible, internal landscape that shapes how they show up every day. Trauma-informed coaching honors that complex terrain.

On one hand, Aisha is managing rapid-scale growth, shifting roadmaps, and a CEO whose vision feels like quicksand beneath her feet. On the other, she’s the sole woman on her executive team, carrying the weight of constant translation—decoding bro culture, negotiating her voice in meetings, and managing the exhausting hypervigilance that comes with being “the only.” Both of these realities coexist, and both demand attention in coaching.

From a neurobiological perspective, trauma—especially relational trauma, which happens in the context of interpersonal dynamics—can recalibrate the nervous system. It leaves a person in a state of hyperarousal or shutdown, wired for survival rather than ease. For tech leaders like Aisha, this means the brain’s alarm system is often on high alert, scanning for microaggressions, subtle dismissals, or any sign of not belonging. This chronic activation drains executive functioning—the very cognitive resources she needs to lead with clarity and creativity.

In my practice, trauma-informed coaching doesn’t ignore the business goals; it integrates them with an understanding of how trauma shapes leadership presence, communication patterns, and resilience. We explore how the nervous system responds to stressors like the constant flux of a startup or the isolation of being the only woman at the table. And we create tools that regulate that nervous system—breath work, somatic awareness, boundary-setting—that restore capacity for strategic thinking and authentic connection.

Both/And lives at the core of this work. Aisha can be ambitious and exhausted. She can be fiercely competent and deeply vulnerable. She can want to stay—and know when her limits are reached. Trauma-informed coaching holds space for this complexity without forcing a false either/or. It’s not about “fixing” her to fit into a broken system; it’s about cultivating a leadership style that honors her whole self, including the parts that have been wounded or silenced.

What trauma-informed coaching also does is reframe power. Power isn’t just about command or control—it’s about reclaiming agency over one’s own nervous system and relational context. For women in tech leadership, this means learning how to navigate hostile or indifferent environments without losing the thread of their own wellbeing. It means developing a leadership presence rooted in safety and trust, even when the external world is unpredictable.

Ultimately, trauma-informed coaching creates a container where driven women like Aisha can transform exhaustion into sustainable energy, isolation into connection, and uncertainty into grounded confidence. It’s a lifeline that acknowledges the unseen emotional and neurobiological costs of their roles—and equips them with the tools to lead not just successfully, but sustainably and meaningfully.

Building a Sustainable Career in an Unsustainable Industry

Building a sustainable career in tech—especially for a woman like Aisha, navigating the relentless pressures of a startup environment—feels almost paradoxical. The industry itself often operates on a fast burn, valuing speed over pause, disruption over stability. Yet the human brain and nervous system crave exactly the opposite: safety, predictability, and attuned connection. This tension creates a profound internal dissonance that can erode even the most driven woman’s sense of vitality and self-worth.

In my practice, I see how women like Aisha carry a heavy neurobiological burden. The constant need to translate their communication, to decode and re-encode messages in a ‘bro culture’ that’s not just unfamiliar but often alienating, activates the brain’s threat response. The amygdala lights up, cortisol floods the system, and the body braces for impact—even when there’s no physical danger present. This fight-or-flight activation becomes chronic. It rewires the nervous system to expect challenge and threat rather than safety and support, which is exhausting and unsustainable over time.

At the same time, Aisha’s role as the sole woman on the executive team means she’s navigating relational trauma on multiple levels. Relational trauma theory helps us understand that early attachment patterns shape how we respond to relational stress and power dynamics. When those early experiences involved inconsistency, invisibility, or the need to perform to be seen, the current workplace dynamics can unwittingly trigger these old wounds. The exhaustion from constantly having to prove competence, to be hyper-aware of how she’s perceived, is not just about external pressure—it’s about an internalized survival strategy that’s been wired for years.

Here’s where the both/and framework becomes essential. Aisha’s ambitious drive AND her nervous system’s cry for safety coexist. Both are true and valid. We don’t have to sacrifice one for the other. In fact, building a sustainable career means learning to hold both in tension—to honor the fire that fuels her leadership while cultivating practices that soothe and regulate her nervous system. This might look like intentionally creating micro-moments of calm during her day, setting boundaries that protect her energy, and developing a support network that reflects her authentic self rather than the persona she must perform.

Executive coaching in this context is not just about strategy or skills development; it’s about cultivating resilience at the neurobiological level. It’s about helping women like Aisha understand how their brains and bodies respond to chronic stress and learning tools—like breath regulation, somatic awareness, and relational attunement—that rewire these patterns. When Aisha can access a regulated state more consistently, her decision-making sharpens, her emotional bandwidth expands, and her leadership becomes both more effective and more sustainable.

Ultimately, building a sustainable career in an unsustainable industry requires a radical redefinition of success. It’s not just about the next promotion or the size of the team but about honoring the full spectrum of one’s humanity—ambition paired with vulnerability, drive paired with rest, power paired with connection. When these elements are held together, career sustainability becomes less of a distant ideal and more of an embodied reality. That’s the journey I support women on every day in my practice.

About the Author

Annie Wright, LMFT

LMFT · Relational Trauma Specialist · W.W. Norton Author

Helping ambitious women finally feel as good as their resume looks.

Annie Wright is a licensed psychotherapist (LMFT #95719) and trauma-informed executive coach with over 15,000 clinical hours. She works with driven, ambitious women — including Silicon Valley leaders, physicians, and entrepreneurs — in repairing the psychological foundations beneath their impressive lives. Annie is the founder and former CEO of Evergreen Counseling, a multimillion-dollar trauma-informed therapy center she built, scaled, and successfully exited. A regular contributor to Psychology Today, her expert commentary has appeared in Forbes, Business Insider, Inc., NBC, and The Information. She is currently writing her first book with W.W. Norton.

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