What Would Dolly Think?

New Storytelling Show — OOPS NYC tomorrow night! Be there! LA friends; we’re comin’ to ya! Don’t miss OOPS LA @ Lyric Hyperion Sun Oct 4 @ 7:30 PM!

A few weeks ago, over a late night martini and tipsy card game — one of my closest friends said that when she’s in doubt, she asks herself:

On Tuesday, we lost an icon.

Words cannot describe the heart, talent, and legacy of the angel — so I’m not even going to try. But for the last few days, I’ve been listening to her music, watching her films, learning about her life, and diving into her wise “isms”

One quote in particular has stuck with me:

“If you don’t like the road you’re walking, start paving another one.”

What would Dolly think about REPAVING a road?

I am in the midst of it.

Before I was a filmmaker, I was a performer.

As a kid, I can’t remember a time that I wasn’t performing.

Whether it was my line-for-line rendition of FUNNY GIRL in my parents’ living room, at wildly cut-throat youth dance competitions, or in random Coloradan student films — I was always a ham.

When I was nine years old, I did my first “pilot season.”

My mother, two sisters, and myself lived in the famed LA Oakwood apartments while auditioning for the first three months of the year. Our days filled with driving around town from casting to casting; our nights filled with a hit show called LOST and voting by phone for AMERICAN IDOL.

That pilot season — I booked my first major role, a series regular in a CBS series. I spent the summer living in another temporary apartment while filming at Raleigh Studios.

At the time, I did not realize I was part of a machine — I was just having fun, chasing my dreams while school was out for summer. (I rly wanted to be on the Ellen Degeneres Show — to give you a sense of the era).

As my sisters and I continued booking, my family ended up moving out to LA permanently.

I loved acting but around fourteen years old — in an angsty pubescent haze — it started to feel like a job. I landed another series regular on an NBC TV pilot. When the show didn’t go, I decided to take a step back from my career.

Focusing on my education… and dare I say… performing for fun.

I was in high school musicals, my college improv team, and post-grad indie NYC comedy shows… the pressure was off, no money was on the line, I didn’t have to worry about getting dropped by my agent. It was purely for joy.

When COVID hit, theaters closed, and the performing arts were thrust into limbo — I stopped performing altogether, I threw myself into studying writing and directing.

I started paving a new road for myself.

I always figured I’d return to my roots… I just didn’t know when… perhaps when I was older, wiser, more confident…

And sometime last year it hit me — the time was now.

I’d never be ready; I had to just go for it.

I’d have to work through adolescent baggage, fear of being “cringe,” and imposter syndrome.

It was going to be a long process… so I started it… the way most things start today — I added “actress” back into my instagram bio.

And more concretely…

Tomorrow evening, I am getting back on stage (or in this case, an elevated platform in the backyard of a Bushwick club… we must all re-start somewhere).

I’ll be hosting and performing in a new storytelling show, “OOPS,” that I created with LisaCos.

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The show was born from this page.

I’ve loved writing and recording my stories about f*cking up and figuring it out — and the responses to my posts, people telling me their own tales of iconic mishaps.

Lisa and I are both perfectionists; we figured what’s more cathartic than making light of our mistakes and inviting our friends (and a vibrant artistic community) to do the same.

Through creating this show, I’ve realized that I shouldn’t think of my art as existing on different roads.

Instead, it’s a highway — there’s multiple lanes, on-ramps, off-ramps, detours, (if I’m lucky) a fast track.

Sometimes there’s traffic, or a closure, other times it’s smooth sailing.

When I was fifteen, my stoner driver’s ed instructor made me get on the 405 long before I was ready. I hyperventilated, screamed a little, and thought I was gonna die on the six-lane LA highway… but then I merged into traffic… and settled in… and turned out alright.

I was just fine.

That’s kind of how I feel right now preparing for tomorrow night.

I’m not going to lie — it’s scary to put myself out there and begin again but in the wise words of Dolly:

“You’ll never do a whole lot, unless you’re brave enough to try.”

Tomorrow is for you Ms. Parton; thank you for inspiring generations of women to put their heels on, get on stage, and stand in their light.

Learned a great lesson from Dolly? Started down a new road (or repaving one)? Returned to who you’ve always been? Let’s talk about it in the comments.

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