Category Archives: Writing

Missing My Mentors

I miss my mentors. I miss my old friends. As we get older, we will start losing people. Two of my mentors passed away last year — Le Wilhelm, who I loved with all my heart. He was so supportive of my work, and he was just such a heartfelt, real person. He produced my first play in NYC. But even when we weren’t working together, I enjoyed his Face Book political rants. He was very opinionated and Southern to his core. He was gay, but very Right and in the theater in New York….so he was pretty funny. I miss seeing those hilarious comments pop up on my feed. They made me smile. Carolyn French, who was an agent at the Fifi Oscard Agency also past away last year. I sat next to Carolyn when I worked at the agency and we became great friends. She begrudgingly became a fan of my playwriting too, even though she really wanted to me to become an agent. In fact, Carolyn invited someone very important to one of my plays years ago, and this person loved my play and invited me to “submit more material.” This was a TV executive. This was a very big deal. I wasn’t ready for TV at the time, so of course nothing more happened (mostly because of me)– but all these years later, this TV executive is back in contact with me again. Carlolyn was not my agent — and as I said, really didn’t give a hoot about my plays. But she saw my play, liked it and made a call for me. Perhaps it was “the” call of my life. Anyway, she’s been gone now for eight months. I think of her often. I still think that we will go meet up in Bryant Park for lunch, and I just miss her. A compliment from Carolyn or Le meant the world to me for different reasons, but the same reasons. One of the last things Carolyn ever said to me was to tell me that she thought I was a wonderful mother. I brought baby Maya to see her one day, now four summers ago and she couldn’t get over the change in me: “Oh Laura, you’ve found yourself. Just look at you.” Of course, this was both pleasing and frustrating to me as you can imagine. “No, no, no…I’m more than a mom. Ugh. This mom-thing isn’t finding myself, ” I thought to myself. But maybe, what Carolyn and others were seeing in me was a Zen that rises up within us as mothers. We are bigger than anything else, even our own ambitions in that moment. We are mothers.

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Le Wilhelm

I went to the memorial of my mentor, Le Wilhelm last night. He died on September 25th, over a month ago. I just haven’t had time to stop and process all that’s happened these past six weeks. It’s been a whirlwind with my kids’ birthdays, school starting again and my own play reading.

I did make it to the hospital in time to sit by his side. I was surprised by how much love and emotion I had for Le, how hard it was to say goodbye, how much I wanted to curl up in his arms and get a hug. For much of my time in New York City, for the past 13 years, Le was my protector…he held me under his wing and gave me encouragement when I needed it the most.

He was an odd find for me in New York City, but again knowing me and the more I hear about Le, I’m not at all surprised. Le was a gift to this world, a gift to me. He was a large man in stature. Geez, how tall was Le? Maybe 6ft-5 and he was, for most of the time I knew him considered to be very large. He later grew thinner from illness, but that’s not how I remember him. He was this great presence, like a king, really. Whether standing on a street corner smoking or sitting in his special chair, drinking and holding court at Zuni’s, he was truly beloved and admired by those who mattered to him.

The summer of 2001 was such a strange time; it was like the pink before the red, before September 11th, before the dread, before things really changed. And for me, it was like the last summer of my youth. I played most of the spring and summer of 2001. I had gotten laid off from my job and had drifted into an uncharted, unknown state. I was definitely wandering; I was searching and finding my artistic self in the big Apple.

Le was from a different era all together. He was probably 54 when I met him, but looked older. He already had that seasoned feel. Somehow, maybe it was the left over food stuck in his beard, or the stains on his untidy shirt.  He lived in New York and had been running a theater for nearly 20 years. He was from Missouri, The Ozarks. He was a larger than life southern man who didn’t give a shit what you thought about him.  He just loved theater and loved to see “the magic” happen. He lived and breathed the stage as if it was his air. He was a prolific, talented writer who created characters who he loved, which of course actors reveled in.  As a director, he chose difficult, interesting plays and as a producer, he enjoyed helping new writers gain confidence (like me). He was an encourager, a friend. He openly hated the elitism that is so much a part of New York theater,  so he created an Off-Off Broadway theater company for the odd balls, like him, like me, I guess.  How one finds their way to Love Creek Productions — is, well, part of the fun — we are all odd balls, aren’t we?

I had been doing this and that all summer long in 2001. I lost my job and instead of getting another one, I spent the summer really fooling around, having no money. I was so so poor that summer. I had been an extra in a movie and on the set, I mentioned to one of the other extras that I wanted to be a playwright. She told me that she was part of a theater company that often produced members’ scripts. So sent an email to Le Wilhelm, the founder and the artistic director of Love Creek Productions. I auditioned for him a week later.

I’ll admit, the day of the audition, I thought the whole thing was strange. There was this old man watching me do my monologue — and then he just cast me in something — right then and there. It was so simple, except that I had to pay $100 to join the company. Uh, okay. I was lured in by getting to act on the stage in New York! Then he read my play and two days later, he told me that  he really liked it and “let’s produce it.” What???

From that day forward I was able to call myself a produced playwright. September 11th happened, I wanted to drop out of the play — two of my actors dropped out — it was a terrible, scary time. Nothing but tears and confusion. But Le pressed me to continue, and unlike some of the folks he worked with, I did it, I carried on. And through that “moment” of courage and perseverance or whatever it was, Le and I formed a very strong bond that would last us until his death just over a month ago.

Le was quite simply one-of-a-kind. He meant so much to so many of us. He was a mentor, a person who it would seem was here to bring people together. It’s like a piece of New York is gone without him here. I am grateful, so so grateful to have known him. Ledirectingmontevideo_front IMG_0848As my friend Jason Nunes said last at the memorial. “We miss you Le Wilhelm. Very much. “

Why Seeing the play “Wood Bones” is Important

Wood Bones is an important play for New York Theater. It’s written by a Native American playwright and it’s in NYC. When was the last time you saw a play written by a Native American playwright? In NYC? I don’t know about you, but this will be the first time for me and I’ve been going to theater in NYC for over 10 years. The play is also seeped in ritual and written about and for Native peoples who are so marginalized that we don’t even talk about them or know how to talk about them.  Through a haunted house story, the play invites the audience into a world I have rarely seen, one of the modern Native American Indian — the men and women who live on reservation land — or not, and who have learned to hate and  honor their traditions.

One of the things that I love about theater are the worlds it allows you to visit. For 90 minutes or more, once the theater is dark, the playwright, director and the actors are holding you captive and show you a world with living and breathing characters. You leave the theater, at the very least, being inspired, one would hope.  Possibly you’ve learned something that makes you think about things just a little bit or a lot differently than you did going into the theater. This should happen even if the play is bad or doesn’t make sense.

I’m going to tell you something — even my stinky plays take the audience on a journey. My very worst play, a play that got me nearly got me kicked out of my MFA program was about a brother and sister when the brother was sent away to a mental institution. The other play that really got me trouble (not because it was bad, but because it was about a professor) was about a guy who masturbated too much who was about to die, but he could turn things around if he could be nicer to women.

Plays these days are BORING and the coverage in the media is male focused (white male focused) and also BORING.

I am tired of seeing ho-hum plays that are extremely cliched and only made new by a celebrity or a prop.  This unraveling of quality is happening all over Hollywood and for the past 5 years it’s practically ruined theater for me in New York City — especially Broadway. Did anyone see that play Grace? So Paul Rudd is supposed to make your play interesting? That’s a lot of work for Mr. Rudd!

I rarely go to theater anymore. I have 2 good excuses – their names are Maya, who is three and Lilly who is only one.  My first priority is my children. I just don’t have the time to go out to theater like I once did. But I am also left a tad cold by the theater when I do go.

I am a playwright with some credentials, enough to speak my mind at least. I feel that I have a style. My own work is quirky, usually dark and edgy and I’d very much like to see things that have the following criteria:

The play should be well written, well acted, have some humorous moments that show intelligence and wit. But the play should not only be witty and it should not be perfectly well-made.  Revivals are fine, and who doesn’t love some of the old great plays?  I have seen most of them at least once, and I don’t really need to see them with a celebrity in one of the roles. I just don’t. It doesn’t make them any better, if anything, like in the case of “Cat On A Hot Tin Roof,” I believe a celebrity actress made it worse. Another thing in this rant, why would I want to see a play where nothing happens?

Here’s what I want to tell producers:

I really don’t care about your set if your play is boring. That’s great that you can write beautiful prose, and say some interesting things and I love it that you are smart, but if your story is not new and exiting and by god original, then what is the point? Are you taking me on an exciting journey? Does your play make sense? Can I follow it? What do you want me to think and  feel when I leave? Have I learned something new, or have I merely been mildly entertained?

For me, the answer is always this: Your play should have taken me on a trip (I love “Trip To Bountiful”),  and would love to leave the theater having learned something new. I like bold subjects, and I don’t like prodding through topics that have been done again again.

Turns out, for me anyway, doing the PR for Wood Bones was an education, and a mind bending one at that. As soon as I took the job, I realized — oh wait, I’ve never done PR before, not officially. Also, I have no idea how to reach out to Native Americans in New York City. Is there a Native blog for New York? And I really don’t know very much about Native Americans or their community. American History was my favorite subject in college and Sacajawea my favorite book; and rafting down the Grand Canyon was one of my favorite trips of my life. And, by golly, my two-year-old nephew is part Navajo!  Guess what? Despite all that, I still don’t know shit.

I’ve been lucky in my career. I’ve worked in marketing since graduating college. Though I haven’t always loved that I do marketing, the fact that I am also a writer and playwright, and am a naturally curious person, my career path has led me to some interesting opportunities to say the least. The jobs I land are so very random, but usually in a good way. They are either good for perks (Starwood Hotels) or for something else — an entertaining story.

My very first marketing job was working for the French company, JC Decaux, an outdoor toilet company. Yes, that’s right. I helped open their flagship office in San Francisco. My focus was the display ads on the outside of the toilets, so I was making phone calls to Macy’s, Calvin Klein and Ralph Lauren,  but the office was small and I often took calls from druggies and people who just wanted to use “The John” in peace.

My next job was much more normal. I worked in a really fancy office on Maiden Lane in San Francisco. Obviously after my first toilet job, I couldn’t wait to have a respectable normal job. I worked for one of San Francisco’s chic advertising agencies as an assistant media planner and my client was Kia Motors, a Korean car company, I’m sure you’ve heard of it. I spent my days dressing cute and flirting with a co-worker. It’s a frilly time…before the Internet boom, just before….and I was lucky to jump that ship and land at my next job which was the very cool, hip Salon.com. I loved this job, one of my favorite jobs ever.  I went camping with Jake Tapper and a throng of other seasoned journalists who are now on CNN and really very famous. Later, when I moved to New York, highlights included doing the online marketing  for the W Hotels and for DIRECTV. I got to go to fashion shows and held court at big meetings, but that power and money didn’t make me happy. In fact, I cried after my first day at DIRECTV because I just didn’t want to work for a big company, it’s not my style.

When I was very young I spent 2 summers in France working in restaurants learning French. I also smoked way too many cigarettes and drank like a fish and sipped lattes with a ciggy in one hand with a cute hat on my head. I used to be able to stay up all night and dance on bars, get lost and come to work at 8AM, drink a huge glass of fresh squeezed OJ and everything would be okay. This French experience is why I got my first job for the French company and probably why and more importantly how I got into marketing. I landed that first job because I spoke French.

At some point, when I was in NYC, I decided I wanted to be a theater artist and I worked my butt off to make that happen. When you have a true passion for something it’s not really that hard. Even though I had a marketing background, I spent 90% of my energy working in the theater. I got my MFA from the New School for Drama, I acted in numerous plays and was even the star of a Russian mini series. I’ve written and had over 40 productions of my plays over the last 10 years.  I spent the 3 years that I was in grad school working part-time as a theatrical literary agent. I was also copywriter for a major theater, a dramaturg for a summer, an assistant on Broadway.  I’ve directed plays, staged managed and written reviews. This year I can add two new titles to my rap sheet:  play contest judge and press rep.

So what’s my point? I’m not sure. It’s 5:30 in the AM. Wood Bones is original, Wood Bones is exciting – it’s well acted and makes sense, and I think you should see it. And then, perhaps a day or two later, when you want to know more, take a trip to the Native American Museum and bring your Kleenex, because you might cry.Image

Five Things I’ve Learned (about being a mom that is).

So now that I am six months into being a mom of 2 what have I learned? A lot, Here’s five short lessons from my first half a year of having two little ones.

#1.) Time Management 101. I had heard this one before, but 3PM is too late to do anything. Maybe not for the rest of the world, but for us moms 3PM is LATE. Are you kidding by 3PM I am pooped! Note to self: Please get a sitter in the am.

#2.) Poopie Diapers! Everyone’s favorite topic, I know. But when you have kids you talk about it a lot. I don’t know why it took me so long to figure this one out. Don’t throw poopie diapers in the diaper pail. Put them in plastic bags and throw them out — as in out of your house — immediately. For 2 plus years I wondered why my daughter’s room was so stinky.

#3.) In case of Emergency!  Not packing a diaper bag? No worries.  You don’t really need it — or do you? One day I took my 2-year-old out to a birthday party in Brooklyn. It was just the two of us. We were having so much fun. She seemed like such a big girl now, holding my hand and walking beside me.  Ooops. I forgot somehow that she wasn’t potty trained. She talks so well that we just ran out the door and whoops! I was calling my husband: “Hurry up with that diaper, Oh my god.”

So after that day I decided to make a little emergency pack in my regular purse for both girls. Oh, I am so, so organized I thought to myself when putting it together. In a plastic bag I put the following: 2 diapers – one for the big girl, one for the baby, A small bottle of formula — just in case — a nipple for the top that is still the wrapper, something that can be used as a wet wipe in an emergency, hand sanitizer and a small Luna bar for mommy. Again, so frigging organized right?  You don’t know how many times I’ve eaten the Luna bar or pulled out the hand sanitizer. Hmmm…what’s missing from this awesome emergency baby packet? Today I knew. A pacifier. Argh! (This is where I swear).

Okay, so I took both girls out to a mama lunch with mama friends this afternoon with our babes. It was my two-year-old’s nap time, but I thought, she can make it, right? Wrong. She wanted her pacifier and I had been out on an audition earlier and only had my purse with me. Poppy had brought her to school. We weren’t thinking about what we didn’t have.  I looked all over and there was no pacifier to be found. A pacifier could have calmed the savage beast that my daughter turned into. She was out-of-control, like I hadn’t seen her since she was 15-months-old (the good old days I call them). As soon as I got the girls home, I put a pacifier in my emergency pack. What else am I missing? Not sure yet.

4. Are you a mom who auditions for commercials? Sometimes I still get invited to audition for commercials. I was an actress — yo. And I used to be pretty cute. But that was BEFORE I had 2 kids back-to-back. I don’t even look like a mom now, I look like a creature who came out of a cave who is starved and certainly due for a hair cut. As my husband so sweetly put it: “At those castings they are looking for fake moms.” You know, super hot, skinny moms who have perfectly gorgeous whitened teeth. Yes, of course I realize  that some of those skinny bitches are also moms. They probably put a fire out on there way there too. Whatever. My current size is actually the size of a plus-size model, but model I am not. I look so tired that I hardly recognize myself. I guess my agent hasn’t seen me lately (hope he doesn’t read this – ha!). Truth is, I like going out to these auditions, even if I most-likely won’t be cast, at least not in my current state. It’s a small reminder of my old life, the old me. You know the me that once had a job in an office. The me that dressed up to go out of the house once in awhile and looked put together.  More and more I catch myself going out in clothes once reserved for bedtime, or uh Target shopping in California. To go out in NYC wearing sneakers when your are not on your way to a workout is uh, not cool. It’s a New York City faux-pax. At least for me it is, I mean was. Now I’ve got a baby sleeping right in front of my closet, so I just grab whatever is there that might fit me. Turns out, nothing fits. It’s all either too big or too small. And my hairdo these days – pulled back mom do. But I’ve been rocking this look for years.  The difference? I go days without washing it now, or even brushing it sometimes. The other day I found that I had grown a dread lock. Yes, seriously. My hair also grew long when I wasn’t looking.  I guess when you don’t have time for hair….it’s time to pour perfume oil on your dread locks?

So I’m all set for my “mom” audition today. I got up pretty early, had time to shower and really put my face on. I nearly saw the old me behind those long dreamy eye lashes. I looked pretty good. I combed my hair, but didn’t really have time to blow it dry, so I put it up. Wet. I swear it looked good when I left.

When I got to the audition and saw all these beautiful versions of me with their perfectly coiffed  blown dry. I realized I had made a mistake. Hmm. Maybe I should wear my hair down?  Oh, can’t do that, it’s wet and I forgot to bring a comb. (Note to self: put an emergency comb in that bag).

What was I thinking? You don’t go to an audition with wet hair. I also had the baby in the carrier on my chest. She fell asleep and I had to go on camera with her there. Oy. Well, she at least covered my fat tummy. I’m not exactly waiting for my phone to ring.

5. Do something for yourself every day. Like today, I’m doing this blog. This is fun for me. Ah. Feels good.

Another Marker…10 Years ago this week my first play was produced!

10 years ago this week my first play was produced in NYC. The play was aptly titled “The Miracle.” It was about a young man who had lived with a false HIV test for three years. He discovers the test was wrong, but it doesn’t really change his life or his choices.

Because I didn’t know anyone in New York City yet, I was also the play’s director and cast all my friends in the parts. The play happened right after Sept 11th and it was such a scary time.  I was totally afraid to put on a play during such darkness, but there was light in this play and with these people. Plus, I was urged to continue. The play brought levity to a dark situation, so I learned that theater, my theater could heal the heart. I could make people laugh.

My roommate Gabe was our co-director and lighting designer. My other best friends were my actors. Somehow we filled those seats for every single performance. I remember sitting in the full audience feeling the energy and hearing the laughter. There’s nothing quite like it, hearing your own words being interpreted by actors. I felt so inspired…like if I can do this, I can do anything. You can’t go too far without good friends in this life. I love all my friends who helped with that production and I certainly haven’t  forgotten how much fun we all had. In December my 50th production/and or reading/public performance of my work will be produced in New York City since that crazy show back in 2001. Follow this link for updates. My play He Says His Name Is John, a one-act I wrote while commuting to my job in White Plains in 2007 is getting a small production at The Looking Glass Theatre’s Winter Forum. I wrote this play when I was working for Starwood Hotels and I took the train to work everyday. The only free time I had back then was during my train commute. I wrote this play in the first few months of the job. By the end of two years I wasn’t writing so much, I had been corprotized.

Reporter Girl at the Comic Book Theater Festival June 3-12.

I’ve been too busy writing my play to actually promote what we are doing here, but below is the official press release. What is being presented is the first half of a completely new version of my full-length play Reporter Girl. Erica Gould, the director, talked me into re-writing my entire script from scratch, which I have done in just three weeks. This has been an insane creative time…and although the time was short, the results are absolutely amazing.  The performances are “on book” but there is lights, sounds, props, some set elements and costumes

Reporter Girl by Laura Rohrman

Reporter Girl by Laura Rohrman

that will help you image what this play would be like fully staged. We would love feedback and are having a talk back after every performance.

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE Press Contact: Lanie Zipoy | lanie.zipoy@gmail.com | 646.399.8650 Festival Press Contact: Emily Owens PR | emily@emilyowenspr.com | 972.743.3746
WAVERLY WRITERS COLLECTIVE Presents a workshop production of REPORTER GIRL as part of The Comic Book Theater Festival
J une 2 – July 1, 2011 at the Brick Theater (575 Metropolitan Ave.) Performances: Friday, June 3rd at 8:45 pm; Sunday, June 5th at 4:00 pm; and Sunday, June 12 at 8:00 pm
New York, NY (May 31, 2011) – Reporter Girl is Laura Rohrman’s full-length play about cartoonist Dale Messick, who created of the famous cartoon strip Brenda Starr Reporter in 1940. Directed by Erica Gould (world premiere of Neil LaBute’s autobahn), the play weaves together a narrative that spans four decades and includes family history, actual cartoon strip plotlines and characters, and most important of all — fantasy—to create a portrait of an artist as a creator and woman. Reporter Girl is a sexy re-imagining of Messick’s life in the 1940’s as her career was taking off. Messick broke through countless barriers and paved the way for other female cartoonists who came after her. She did this not just for cartoonists, but also for women in all professions around the world. She created a sexy heroine who didn’t need a man at a time when most women stayed home to be housewives and raise kids.
Reporter Girl examines what creativity really means and what Messick may have given up to get what she always dreamed of. The play also explores how this dream of getting what you want affects not just her granddaughter, but women around the world. Reporter Girl has been a Weissberger Award nominee, a Princess Grace and O’Neill Finalist among other awards. Laura Rohrman, the playwright, is the maternal granddaughter of Dale Messick.
The cast of Reporter Girl features Julia Crockett, Amy Dickenson, Meghan Grady, Kate Grimes, Chad Hoeppner, Betty Hudson, and Richard Thieriot. The production team includes Alexis Distler (scenic design), Evan Truesdale (lighting design) and Scott O’Brien (sound design). The assistant director is Blake Bishton.
Reporter Girl will perform Friday, June 3rd at 8:45pm; Sunday, June 5th at 4:00pm; and Sunday, June 12th at 8:00pm as part of The Comic Book Theater Festival at The Brick (575 Metropolitan Avenue between Union Avenue and Lorimer Street, Brooklyn). Tickets ($15) may be purchased online at http://www.bricktheater.com or by calling 866-811-4111.
The Waverly Writers Collective is a young, diverse group of talented, award-winning playwrights, directors, actors and producers whose work attempts to shine a light on the world in which they live. The company was founded in 2003 by Laura Rohrman and Aurin Squire, who both studied playwriting at The New School for Drama in New York City. The Waverly Writers Collective has produced 30 new plays and 12 new playwrights including: Carla Ching, Bekah Brunstetter and David Caudle. Productions include: 9 x 9 (2003), Two Guys and a Girl (2004), Babies Bombs and Love (2005). Co-productions: My Life As You (2006) and Femme Feast (2009). The group’s mission is to create new and exciting opportunities for emerging and established artists.
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LAURA ROHRMAN (Playwright) Playwriting credits include: Reporter Girl, a finalist for multiple awards including: The O’Neill Festival, The Weissberger Award and The Princess Grace Fellowship, and My Life As You a 2006 Playwrights First finalist that had a sold-out production NYC production starring the Emmy nominated Jeff Branson. NYITA Judges called the play “A great evening with smart and funny writing.” In addition to being a two- time finalist for The Samuel French short play festival, her plays have been produced and developed at many theaters around New York City and elsewhere. Her plays have been selected for readings and productions with the following theaters: Second Stage Theater, The Vital Theater, Manhattan Theatre Source, Emerging Artists Theater, Rising Sun Theatre, The Looking Glass Theater and Native Aliens Theater Collective. Outside of New York her work has been developed and produced with The American Conservatory Theater, Diva Fest (San Francisco) and The Lost Theater Festival in London, UK where here play Below 14th was called “Brilliantly funny” by adjudicator Adrian Brown. Her work has been developed with help from The Actors Studio Drama School/The New School For Drama, Vital R&D, RCL Writer’s Group, The Fold and The Emerging Artists Theater. Laura has an MFA in Playwriting and Acting from The New School for Drama in New York City. She is a member of The Dramatist Guild. http://www.laurarohrman.com, http://www.thepopcycle.com
ERICA GOULD’s (Director) directing credits include the world premiere production of Neil LaBute’s autobahn and the premiere of LaBute’s one-acts, Sound Check, and Stand Up with Mos Def (MCC); What Light From Darkness Grows (for NPR with Phylicia Rashad, Harry Lennix – Golden Reel and Gracie Allen Awards); The Minotaur by Anna Ziegler with Mario Cantone, Jill Clayburgh, and Campbell Scott (The Fire Dept/Players Club); As You Like It (Shakespeare Theatre/ACA, DC); Troilus and Cressida (NY Stage and Film); the new musical Max and the Truffle Pig (NYMF); Adopt a Sailor with Sam Waterston and Liev Schreiber (Brave New World, Town Hall); Ms. Gould’s adaptation of Milorad Pavic’s Dictionary of the Khazars (Culture Project, Williamstown, Yale); The Rover (Bank Street Theatre); SpeakEasy, a site-specific theater piece by LaBute, Theresa Rebeck, Rajiv Joseph, others (Joe’s Pub/Public Theater); The Beggar’s Opera (Pace); and a staged reading presentation of Kate Maracle’s Pretty Ugly Things with Kyra Sedgwick and Brian Dennehy. Currently running: US premiere production of Inigo Ramirez de Haro’s Me Cago En Dios (Holy Crap) at La MaMa. She is Co-Artistic Director of The Fire Dept Theatre Co and was the inaugural recipient of the SDC LiveOnScreen Initiative for directing on-camera. She has taught Classical Acting, Voice and Movement, Directing, and stage combat at Yale, NYU, Fordham, Pace, O’Neill/NTI, Bard, others.

How To Write A Thesis

Maya, my 16-month-old, woke up last night and really wanted to read a book before going back to bed. She loves going through the bookshelf on mommy’s bed and pretends to read “big people books.” It’s rather hilarious. Since we are at my mom’s, most of these books are from my college years. The book she chose: “How To Write A Thesis”…I told her as she took the book with her to her crib in full reading pose – “Maya, this book made mommy very sad. I hated reading that book, if I ever really did read it, and I hated writing my thesis…ugh. Can’t you read a book about Cookie Monster?”