Oh, Hey Lena!

It’s been three days since Lena Dunham liked my Substack comment about wanting to interview her for my author Substack. My husband, my constant cheerleader whose faith in me and my writing is sweet but often a tad clouded by his seemingly heart-shaped emoji eyes he sees me with, turned to me today and said, “It’s been three days, what now?”

I shrugged, then immediately convinced myself it was just a kind gesture. After all, she’s on a book tour, probably booked solid, and I’m nobody. I’m just a Dominican girl from Washington Heights who, despite earning a PhD in Developmental Psychology, published 3 books (self-published, but it still f***ing counts), and occasionally receives $0.43 in royalties—mostly from Japan—so BOOYAHH! Despite all that and founding a zine, SINISTER GIRLZ, in 2002, where I interviewed acts like Hoobastank, Joan Jett, Dolly Parton, and Marky Ramone, I feel unworthy. Those experiences were years ago, a lifetime ago, when I had balls of steel—or as my people call it, “cojones.”

Back then, as a theatre intern at Second Stage Theatre, when Ricky Jay was doing his one-man sleight-of-hand show directed by David Mamet, one day I walked up to him with a shaky but steady voice and said, “Hey! I want to be a writer too!” Then I completely blacked out, and although he said what seemed to be encouraging words at the time, I can’t remember what he said.

I was so nervous, awkward, and a bit aimless at the time that I was constantly ditching school and dodging the patrolling truancy officers just to stand in line hoping to get into a taping of MTV’s TRL. The point of all this is to say that it wasn’t until years later, when “GIRLS” premiered, that I realized Zosia Mamet was David Mamet’s daughter and that we were close in age. At the time, I probably reminded him of his daughter.

Then it all made sense—that’s why he would watch his words when he saw me enter the room. Among his many talents is his ability to use, and seemingly invent, curse words, but he was so damn charming it was like, “no harm, no foul,” because in the end, whatever he was cursing about was probably right.

So now this brings me back to Lena liking my message. I finished her memoir “Famesick,” listening to the audiobook all hours of the night despite it often hijacking my sleep schedule, all the while rewatching “GIRLS” during the day.

As I listened, rewatched, and relived many of Hannah & Co’s foibles, I reconnect with Lena, the writer, seeing myself make similar mistakes to those of GIRLS, chasing the dream of becoming an important or at least respected writer. Watching Lena’s triumphs in showbiz while battling countless illnesses and misdiagnoses, I couldn’t help but see myself in her (her real-life relationship with writing partner and friend Jenni Konner) and Hannah during the season 5 finale, where she recounts her story of losing a friendship—something I can sadly attest is a more painful breakup than with any seemingly “nice guy.”

So Lena Dunham , whether you read this or not, your kind gesture was not lost on me, and perhaps someday we will connect.