I heard this phrase from an old timer in recovery when I was in my twenties. He said it about his relationship with a higher power: my job is to take the steps. The results are God’s department. I just work in footwear.
I’ve been thinking about that line lately, because it describes exactly what’s been happening in my life. Good things are happening in spite of me.
I’ve got this committee of voices in my head I call the shitty committee—they’ve been there my whole life—and they love to tell me that my ideas and my hopes and dreams are too far-fetched and ridiculous and that I’m going to fail so why should I try. (Doubt I’m the only one…) Since embarking on this journey into acting, though, a new voice has joined the chorus. And I’m fucking up the metaphor now, but I think of it as an invisible hand that gently yet persistently guides me to do the things that scare me anyway. I don’t think I actually want to perform because I am full of so much fear, but the invisible hand pats me gently, says it understands, and pushes me out the door. So I do the thing. And then something happens. And then more things happen. And I’m left wondering, what is happening. I don’t know how many times I’ve said to my husband, “I don’t know why people are so excited. It’s just me and a puppet.” But people are excited and it is so cool.
For example, I may think I don’t have a shot at a festival, but I fill out the application anyway. And then I get in. Repeatedly. Which is how I ended up with a solo show going to off-Broadway in October, a puppet show going to Halle, Germany, and a very full calendar for someone who is also raising two kids and working as a journalist and trying to act like it’s just another normal day.
That’s life in the footwear department, though. I just take the steps.
Speaking of, one of the things I genuinely enjoy is flyer-walking.
Whenever I have an upcoming show I make a flyer in Canva, print it out at Staples, and do the rounds of coffee shops, libraries, and local stores and ask if I can put up a flyer. I have no idea how much this actually drives ticket sales. Zero data. It’s entirely possible I’m just achieving my step count goals and calling it marketing.
But here’s the thing: I love it. Which surprised me, because for a long time I was a pretty committed misanthrope. People were fine in theory, but too overwhelming in practice. Sobriety put a chink in my armor, but I still tended to keep to myself. When I started improvising, though, the floodgates opened up and I burst forth, freely and unapologetically. People stopped being the problem and became the whole point of my life. This is what I try to convey in my art. And people are receptive. The more I talk to community members about what I am doing the more the magic of puppetry and improv grows. (I’m even leading a workshop on improv for journalists at this year’s Association of Healthcare Journalists conference. My worlds are colliding!!)
When I’m onstage performing with Grief Circle, I have seconds to figure out who I am to the person across from me. Are we strangers? Old friends? Am I terrified of them or do I love them? That choice is the whole scene. You can’t fake it. You either show up for it or you’re just two people standing on an empty stage.
Maybe it’s practice for the real world or maybe the real world is practice for improv. Either way, it’s pretty cool.
In my improvised puppet show, Conversations We Can’t Have, I invite audience members onstage to talk to anyone — or anything — they want to communicate with. An ex-boyfriend. A dog. A dead relative. A hair toaster (the brilliant idea of a really cool kid). It works because people feel met. And that only happens if you’ve practiced actually meeting people.
In September I’ll be performing Conversations We Can’t Have at Impronale, an improv festival in Halle, Germany. I’m also leading a three-day workshop on improvising with puppets, where participants will get to design and build their own sock puppet. I am extremely excited about this. And so grateful that this is my life.
And then there’s Condemned To A Life.
My solo show is darkly comedic and personal, and I am beyond excited that it is coming together. Through storytelling and puppetry, the show explores love and loss, grief and trauma, mental illness, substance abuse, and the question I keep coming back to: how do we learn to love ourselves and other people in spite of all of it?
It premieres in Chicago in August 2026. The show is directed by Vishaal Desai, who I met on the set of his short film Clothes On Our Backs, and features the work of puppeteer Noah Ginex, who came to the rescue in a puppet emergency before I performed in Amsterdam. And then it plays off-Broadway at Theater Row in New York City on October 21, 2026 as part of United Solo.
Footwear department. Just take the steps.
I’m fundraising to bring this show to life, in Chicago and in New York. And this is the part where I ask you for something.
Not for me, exactly. For the work. For the people helping me bring this story to life who deserve to get paid for their time, and for the people who have lived with some of the things central to this show — central to making me the person I am today: an ambitious and determined super empath who wants people to feel seen and heard.
If any of this lands for you, I would be so grateful for your support.
Donate to Condemned To A Life via Fractured Atlas
I’ll be launching a campaign in the coming weeks as well as a website for the show with more information on the people involved in the process, table reads, puppet builds, and more.
Until then, I’ve got flyers to put up. Cheers!
Upcoming Shows
Friday May 1 at 9pm | Conversations We Can’t Have | The Playground
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