Publishing Day Book #12- Embracing Transgressive Fiction in the midst of one of the most critical elections in our country.
When Nate Yacos approached me about writing Tugnutt’s Creek, I felt like I was back in the early nineties at the Grateful Dead Concert in Philly, where it was impossible not to get a contact high as the crowd sang “Friend of the Devil”. The whole idea was so far out...
I held Kristin Chenoweth’s purse & other fun facts
I saw Anthony Rapp 8 Times as Mark in Rent, a definitive moment in my life as an artist, and now he is starring in Mozart: Her Story - The New Musical. I heard Audra McDonald sing in a tiny rehearsal studio in NYC during a reading of Dear World. I saw...
I did not participate in the Olympics this year; however….
I love the Olympics. And each year I am a bit confused why I am not a part of it. Don’t people know that, in my head, I swim as fast as Katie Ledecky. And score like Megan Rapinoe. And perform difficult combination moves on the bars like Sunisa Lee. And even though...
Choosing to be a Militant Optimist and feeling adored during a Pandemic birthday
I’m still mulling over a conversation I had with a student this week. She was worried about her script being ‘stolen’ and said she’s had bad experiences in the past. I said, no one is stealing anything from any one and just register it…so if you, an unknown housewife,...
R.I.P. Uncle MURRAY SCHISGAL… one of the funniest men I’ve ever known
I fell in love with Mark Troy because he was funny. Probably the funniest man I’d ever met. And it wasn’t until I met his uncle MURRAY SCHISGAL, who wrote Tootsie, that I discovered where he inherited his humor. Troy’s dad was one of the kindest people I'd ever known...
My best friend Jill Gascoine
What do you even begin to say about the best person in the world? I’ve been writing this eulogy in my head since Jill got Alzheimer’s, because that is when she died for most of us. When she was diagnosed, I wish I had had the guts to squeeze her so damn hard that I...
Mark Troy’s Drums and Hope
For all intents and purposes, I am musically inept. Growing up in suburban Baltimore in the seventies, my musical exposure was limited to Jewish folk music and Broadway Showtunes that my parents played on our turntable. I didn’t mind, I used to do roller skating...
Alfred Molina, Holly Hunter and the power of grief.
Last night I was destroyed by Alfred Molina’s devastatingly brilliant performance as André, a man suffering from Alzheimer’s in Florian Zeller’s The Father. Unlike most plays about Alzheimer’s, dementia and losing one’s mind, The Father is not a linear story told to...
An obit to my soon to be dead dog #2 Miriam Von Freedman Troy
I wasn’t prepared for the pain. As someone who didn’t grow up with animals, I wasn’t prepared for the pain. As my dying baby girl lies on my lap while I write this, I am still not prepared for the pain. When Mark Troy died six and a half years ago, it nearly broke me....
A Swedish Massage in Sweden is called… a Swedish Massage
When I asked at the Stockholm spa why a Swedish massage in Sweden isn’t just called a massage they patiently explained, “It’s called a Swedish massage because a Swedish person is giving you a massage”. Serves me right for asking. Despite the semantics, the massage...