Today we’d like to introduce you to Deborah Kevin.
Hi Deborah, thanks for joining us today. We’d love for you to start by introducing yourself.
I started my career doing what smart, practical people do: I got an accounting degree and went to work for Deloitte & Touche and KPMG. Numbers. Systems. Structure. I was good at it. Then I moved to Constellation Energy/BGE, where I climbed from internal auditor to Six Sigma Black Belt to Change Management Leader—basically a professional chaos-untangler with a very serious title.
Then life rearranged my plans, the way it tends to.
In 2010, I left corporate America to care for my youngest son, who had just been diagnosed with autism. When you’re handed that kind of news, spreadsheets stop mattering. What matters is showing up, figuring it out, and fighting like hell for someone you love. Once we had a plan and he was stable, I took a breath—and picked up a pen.
A few writing classes led to a wild idea. I submitted to Stanford University’s Creative Writing program, half-expecting a polite rejection. Instead, they said yes. I graduated in 2014, a year after I’d launched a little company focused on author websites and marketing copywriting. I didn’t know yet that I was circling my real calling.
In 2019, I made it official. I applied to Western Colorado University for a master’s degree in publishing, graduated in 2021, and built Highlander Press into what it is today: a hybrid, boutique publishing house on a mission to elevate women’s voices, one story at a time. We focus on education, empowerment, and community.
We’ve—so far—published 75 books. We’ve guided hundreds of writers to authorhood. And I bring every bit of that journey—the auditing, the Six Sigma precision, the caregiving, the Stanford leap of faith—into every author I serve.
Turns out, I was always in the business of transformation. I just finally found the right medium.
Alright, so let’s dig a little deeper into the story – has it been an easy path overall and if not, what were the challenges you’ve had to overcome?
Leaving a lucrative corporate career is one of those decisions that looks brave in retrospect and feels like freefall in the moment. I walked away from a Six Sigma Black Belt title, a steady paycheck, and a professional identity I’d spent years building—and I did it to care for my family. There was no dramatic pivot plan. There was just love, and necessity, and a whole lot of figuring it out as I went.
What I didn’t advertise was how much I was holding at once. Raising a family primarily on my own. Building a business from scratch with no guarantee that it would work. Watching former colleagues move up while I moved sideways? inward? somewhere without a title. Every time someone suggested I “go back to work,” I felt the pull. The safety of a salary. The simplicity of someone else’s structure. I chose, over and over, to bet on myself instead. Some days felt like courage. Some days it felt like stubbornness. Honestly, it was probably both.
Then, in October 2021, my life rearranged itself again; this time with a breast cancer diagnosis.
There’s nothing that clarifies your priorities quite like that conversation with your doctor. My business, which I had poured everything into, suddenly felt both more fragile and more essential than ever. And then something remarkable happened: my professional colleagues and friends stepped in. We published ten books during that period. Ten. People showed up in ways I hadn’t asked for and couldn’t have anticipated because that’s what community actually means when you strip away all the inspirational-poster versions of it.
I learned that collaboration isn’t a strategy. It’s a lifeline. That showing up for each other is the whole point. And that moving forward doesn’t require having it all together—it just requires not going it alone.
I’m still here. Still writing. Still publishing.
Thanks – so what else should our readers know about your work and what you’re currently focused on?
What I specialize in is demystifying publishing. The industry has a long history of being a black box—opaque, jargon-heavy, and frankly a little intimidating on purpose. I’ve built Highlander Press to be the opposite of that. We pull back the curtain on every aspect of the process so our authors can make informed, empowered decisions about their careers. Because an educated author is an unstoppable author.
What I’m most known for, though, is the community we’ve built. Our authors don’t just publish books, they find their people. They show up for each other’s launches, celebrate each other’s wins, and talk each other off the ledge when imposter syndrome comes knocking (and it always comes knocking). That kind of genuine, sustained connection doesn’t happen by accident. It’s baked into everything we do.
What sets me apart? I’m not just a publisher. I’m an author. I know how isolating that journey can feel—the self-doubt, the silence between drafts, the vulnerability of putting your story into the world. I’ve lived it. That experience shapes how I show up for every writer I work with: not as someone handing down expertise from a distance, but as someone who has been in the creative trenches and knows exactly what it costs—and what it’s worth.
I built the publishing house I wished had existed when I needed it most. That’s what I’m most proud of.
Are there any important lessons you’ve learned that you can share with us?
Betting on yourself is not a one-time decision. It’s a daily practice.
I left a lucrative corporate career. I built a business while raising a family largely on my own. I pivoted, twice, into industries with no guaranteed return. And every single time, the scariest moment wasn’t the leap—it was the morning after, when the fear caught up with me and the safety net was already gone.
What kept me going wasn’t confidence. It was commitment. Commitment to the work, to the authors who trusted me with their stories, and to the stubborn belief that the thing tugging at my heart was worth following, even when I couldn’t yet see where it was leading.
I’ve been walking the Camino de Santiago in stages since 2017. Last year, at sixty-one, I finished earning both the Muxiana and the Finisterra certificates. If you know the Camino, you know it will humble you, blister you, and occasionally break you open in ways you didn’t see coming. You also know that you don’t finish it alone. Strangers become companions. Companions become family. The path teaches you, over and over, that showing up is the whole game—one step, one day, one stage at a time.
With my October 2021 breast cancer diagnosis, every assumption I’d quietly held about strength, self-sufficiency, and what it means to be a good entrepreneur got dismantled in a single conversation with my doctor.
My colleagues and friends stepped in without being asked. We published ten books while I was in treatment. Ten. And I watched, from a place of profound vulnerability, what real community actually does—not the hashtag version, but the showing-up-on-a-Tuesday version. The carrying-the-load-without-keeping-score version.
I had spent years believing that asking for help was a weakness. That a good entrepreneur figures it out herself. Cancer cured me of that particular brand of nonsense.
I built Highlander Press around collaboration because I believe stories are better when they’re not written alone. But I learned—really learned, in my bones—that the same is true for the entire journey. The writing. The publishing. The living.
Bet on yourself, yes. Every single day. And then find your people and let them find you.
That’s not a soft lesson. That’s the whole thing.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://highlanderpressbooks.com
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/highlanderpress
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/highlanderpress
- Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/deborah-kevin/
- Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@highlanderpress
- Other: https://debbykevin.substack.com/
