Oprah Didn’t Light My Candle

Everything feels like I've been riding the Cyclone: it's up and down and, as those who have ridden the rickety-forever-on-the-verge-of-breaking wonder of Coney Island will tell you, you're never quite sure how it will end.

I hinted at this on Instagram but saved the full tea for my you.

Lately I've almost got a million things including a Netflix show in Italy (TWICE), a Lifetime movie, and a regional commercial, then got rejected re: a potential comedy special, and then my phone rings from an unknown Chicago number.

Oprah called.

When I heard: "I'm Oprah's producer" I almost fell off my chair. On a whim I had applied to be a call-in guest on her podcast and I was selected. A few days later he called back  to say I was about to make the cut. YAY! Then an hour before our tech check: the main guest wanted the call-in folks to be his friends.

So that was that.

Paradoxically the things I have more direct control have been lit. We sold out the last Ha! of Nah! and are gearing up for a bigger and bolder Misfit Variety Show.

In times like these I'm reminded why I started created my own performance ecosystem: in a business where even lighting a candle for luck won't help you, it's more empowering to light your own goddamned candle.