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Morgan Swank of Atlanta on Life, Lessons & Legacy

We’re looking forward to introducing you to Morgan Swank. Check out our conversation below.

Morgan, a huge thanks to you for investing the time to share your wisdom with those who are seeking it. We think it’s so important for us to share stories with our neighbors, friends and community because knowledge multiples when we share with each other. Let’s jump in: What battle are you avoiding?
Burnout.

It’s easy to act like burnout is just a phase, or something that only happens to other people, the ones who “don’t manage their time well” or “can’t handle the pressure.” But the truth is, burnout creeps in quietly, dressed as productivity. It rewards you with the illusion of momentum while quietly draining your spirit.

The battle I’m avoiding is with my own limits.

I’m avoiding the moment I have to admit that exhaustion isn’t a badge of honor. That constantly saying “yes” doesn’t make me more valuable, it makes me more vulnerable. That my worth isn’t measured by how much I can endure, but by how intentionally I can live.

Burnout doesn’t show up all at once. It shows up in the skipped meals, the ignored texts from friends, the weekends spent catching up instead of resting. It hides behind the phrase “I’m just busy right now” and thrives in the silence of unspoken overwhelm.

And the longer I avoid facing it, the harder it becomes to remember what balance, joy, and clarity even feel like.

So the real battle isn’t against work or stress or deadlines.
The real battle is choosing to stop, to rest, to say no, to set a boundary, before burnout wins the war.

Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
Hi, I’m Morgan Swank! I’m the children’s author of Mort and The Saga of Bones Ironclaw, Emmy-winning television writer, and currently serving as Vice Chair of the Athens-Clarke County Human Relations Commission. For the better part of my life, I’ve been in entertainment and raised my child, Moonscar Productions, to be a a beautiful, functional adult. I’ve spent my career telling stories that spark imagination and challenge the status quo, whether through books, television, or community work.

Right now, I’m at a crossroads where creativity meets civic responsibility. I’m exploring what it means to step into political life, not for power, but for purpose. My goal is to make our systems more accessible, inclusive, and human-centered. Whether I’m building fantasy worlds on the page or advocating for real-world equity, I’m always focused on creating space for people to feel seen, heard, and valued.

Amazing, so let’s take a moment to go back in time. What part of you has served its purpose and must now be released?
For a long time, that identity anchored me. It gave me direction, ambition, validation. I knew how to climb, how to hustle, how to shape my voice to fit a room. I wore the title like armor: “writer,” “producer,” “Emmy-winner” because it gave me access, credibility, a seat at the table.

But somewhere along the way, it stopped feeling like mine.

Chasing the idea of being “someone” in entertainment meant constantly performing, proving, pivoting. It meant defining success by external markers, who called, what sold, what trended. It fed the ego but starved the soul.

Now, I’m learning that storytelling doesn’t have to come with a spotlight. Influence doesn’t have to come with industry clout. And purpose, real purpose, isn’t something handed out by a gatekeeper.

It’s time to release the version of me that needed to be seen in order to feel worthy. That chapter served its purpose. It built resilience, taught craft, and gave me a platform. But now, I’m more interested in being useful than being known.

So I’m letting go, not of creativity, but of chasing the version of success that no longer fits the life I’m trying to build.

If you could say one kind thing to your younger self, what would it be?
You will be just fine. You’re not late. You’re not lost. You’re just learning, exactly on time.

I know it feels like everyone else has a map and you’re still trying to find the trailhead. But the truth is, no one really knows what they’re doing. They’re just walking forward, same as you.

All the pressure you’re putting on yourself to be perfect, to have it all figured out, to be somebody, you can let that go. Life isn’t a checklist or a race. It’s a series of becoming, and you’re doing it beautifully.

You don’t need to prove your worth. You already have it. You don’t need to rush your story. It will unfold, messy, magical, and fully yours. And one day, not too far from now, you’ll be proud of the person you’ve become.

Alright, so if you are open to it, let’s explore some philosophical questions that touch on your values and worldview. Whom do you admire for their character, not their power?
I admire Jasmine Crockett because she shows up with unapologetic honesty in a space that often rewards power over principle. She speaks plainly, boldly, and without fear, even when she knows it’ll ruffle feathers or could end with consequences for her. She’s not interested in performing politics; she’s interested in changing it.

What makes her stand out isn’t just her intelligence or quick wit, it’s her refusal to shrink herself to make others comfortable. She brings both fire and facts to every room she enters. Whether she’s calling out hypocrisy, standing up for marginalized communities, or exposing performative governance, she does so with clarity, humor, and backbone.

Crockett doesn’t play the long game of silence for personal gain. She risks reputation, re-election, and even safety to say what needs to be said. In an era when so many elected officials are more interested in power than people, she’s a reminder that true leadership means showing up with your whole self, even when it’s inconvenient. She is a voice for the voiceless and a powerful image for young women, especially young Black women, everywhere. I admire her endlessly.

She’s proof that character can still cut through the noise.

Okay, so before we go, let’s tackle one more area. If you knew you had 10 years left, what would you stop doing immediately?
Caring.

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