Tina Fey, Liz Lemon, The OTC and Me

I got misty eyed last Thursday night when my friend Liz Lemon (Tina Fey) decided it was time to move onto the next phase in her life.   She'd been producing this comedy show for seven years and knew it was time for something new.   She's a new mom - in fact she had just adopted two eight year olds and recently got married to a man she's been seeing for a couple of years - so those major life changes in such a short period of time were mind blowing.   The effects of trying to produce a weekly comedy show with egotistical actors like Tracy and Jenna were tough enough, but now with two kids, it seemed that she needed more - from her life and herself.    But being the martyr she is, she was going to shoulder on and take care of everyone else because that what female producers do - we take care of people.   We make the other actors look good, we make sure they have enough to eat, we work on things after our kids have gone to bed with their stuffies having sweet dreams because our dream is sitting there in front of us  barely in reach sometimes and so often at the mercy of other people.   We go to our day jobs which are important - sure, but a little bit of us wonders, "Man what if I could write or perform full time and make a living at it - what if this regular job safety net was gone - could I do it?"   Then the cold reality of the light of day hits and you tell yourself - it's better to strike a balance because in both worlds - your actors and your children depend on you to have the answers and to keep going.   So the dream gets pushed aside to after-hours when it's affordable.   

The ironic thing for me watching 30 Rock was that I have what Liz Lemon spent seven years trying to get - a husband who loves me for all my quirks and two kids who are pretty remarkable so that should complete me.  Yet the idea of producing a show on a network even one as dysfunctional as the fictional NBC would seem like a dream come true.  Even though I've spent the bulk of my professional career working in non-profits and in my own way saving the world - I've always thought I would make a good producer because I've also had to put up with a parade of crazy actors, theater owners, and people who come to see our shows over my seven years at the OTC Comedy Troupe.   Like Liz, I've had actors do outrageous things like call an audience member an "Asian Bitch" because he thought he was being funny and couldn't understand that he had crossed a line.  I had an actress not show up for shows until we were half way through the performance and still expected to go on.   I had another woman who did stand-up arrive to rehearsals late, leave early so she could perform at the open mike at the Punchline Comedy Club.  She would also promote her projects to the audience while I was paying her to do my shows.   The advantage to just being their director and not their mother was when it was obvious that these actors were not going to change their egotistical ways, I could fire them which I did.   That might not seem very maternal but for the good of the "comedy" family, they had to go.  

I could understand why Tina Fey decided that after seven seasons she was done with 30 Rock.   According to an article in Rolling Stone, she was trying to balance raising two children -  one a seven year old and one whose 18 months old.  Those sleepless nights were taking their toll - she was just wiped out at the end of the day.  I can understand that - I went back to doing improv when Daniel was about a year old and I was working full time.   Trying to maintain your identity doing what you love and yet the people that you love need you too- sometimes the guilt can really get to you - and you feel like you're trying to scale a very slippery slope.  Add to it the fact that women in comedy have to work twice as hard to be taken half as seriously, and it's not wonder why we're sucking down chocolate and junk food like cheesy blasters just to cope.  

Junk food can help because both Tina and I have had to stomach our share of overt of sexism in comedy.  I remember being in the improv group Mental Floss back in Miami in the late 1980's where half the cast was women and the other half were men and still the attitude was that women would not make up a big part of the show.   In improv, you have set the pieces or games and put in the people to perform in them — so it doesn't matter if it's a man and a woman or two men or two women in the scenes because you make up the action as you go along with a relationship which can be husband and wife, co-workers, puppies -- just about anything.  Yet in groups like Mental Floss, the women would be lucky to get four pieces to the 16 pieces that the guys were doing.   Her experience with the legendary Second City was similar, "We were making up the show ourselves. How could there not be enough parts? Where was the 'Yes, and?' If everyone had something to contribute, there would be enough. The insulting implication, of course, was that the women wouldn’t have any ideas.”  Yeah, I've been at the condescending end of that equation and it pisses me off — it's so arrogant and yet in comedy it's so pervasive - the cards are stacked against us which is why I finally said, "Screw this, I'm starting my own company," which I have twice — once in Miami and currently in Atlanta.  

But even being in charge doesn't guarantee that things will be smooth sailing for me or the other women in the group.  I've had guys come into the OTC Comedy Troupe thinking they could weasel their way in, take over and force me out.   Big mistake - because if you want to really take down a funny woman, you'll have to try harder then being underhanded, because we'll see it before you can act on it - call it women's inituition but we generally have a pretty good feel for who is going to work well and who is going to be an asshole.   I've had guys leave the group because I would not let them do sketches on pedophiles, incest or make fun of the handicapped.  They think it's edgy and I know it's just in bad taste and borders on bullying - but because I won't let them do it makes me "a fascist."  Apparently I just don't know what's funny and those topics should be fair game.   True comedy does not come from putting down people who can't defend themselves or making fun of taboo subjects.  My attitude is that if you don't like it, start your own company and perform for the prepubescents who might laugh but won't have the theatrical or corporate dollars to book you.   

So it's on those days when I've had to sit in an empty rehearsal hall 20 minutes after rehearsal was supposed to start and wondered why I put up with it.   What is it about doing comedy and improv that compels me to sit in a freezing back room in an old church with no heat and breaker that trips when you plug in the heater to wait for a bunch of actors to sheepishly meander in?  Why do I care so much?   I've wanted to any number of times to say - "That's it, we're done - workshop is over - next time show up on time.   Good God, is that too much to ask!?"  I've wanted to melt down like Liz Lemon any number of times, but I know it's not worth it.  So I swallow my pride and welcome them in because maybe we all need to laugh.  We start to goof around and then it all makes sense, laughter makes those shitty life moments bearable.   Those web shows that we used to do at the coffee shop that made people smile when they had a lousy day - that's worth it.   Reaching out to a lonely teen and making them laugh in their room while they watch us on YouTube doing a sketch like drunk menopausal Barbie and having them leave a grateful comment on your channel - that's worth it.   Watching seven seasons 30 Rock that my kids and laughing together - those things are priceless.  Laughter has it's own wonderful power and it's a currency I trade in - dammit, it's what makes me who I am even when I think I can walk away - it's not long before I come running back with my hands in the air wearing a silly hat.   Me, Liz, Tina, Ellen - we're silly people who want to make the world better place by getting people to forget their troubles for a few minutes - because if you can genuinely laugh at yourself, you can't hate and you can't hurt.   You can go further with a strength you never thought you had.  Maybe that's why men and women don't see comedy the same way - for us it's a way to heal  - not a way to dominate or inflict pain like the Three Stooges - call it a girl thing.  If that means a guy might not find my kind of comedy funny then I'm okay with that.  

  

So as the sun sets on 30 Rock, I want to thank Tina Fey for us showing women that you can be funny, strong, silly and a hot mess at the same time.  I always laugh hardest when I realize what a total dumb ass I'm being.  I also know that after spending all that time taking care of other people, you need to take a break and try something new.    As I look at my work with The OTC Comedy Troupe, I understand the importance of new chapters.  While I love performing live, I'd like to move us into developing a series for the internet or a cable channel so our work can live beyond the footlights.   One of the sweetest last images you see of Liz on 30 Rock is with her two kids sitting on director's chairs laughing at the show she's producing.  God, I can relate.  My kids used to love to come and watch the web show - they were my laugh track.   I'm starting to write my own show and develop characters that grow week to week rather than ones that last just a few minutes in an improv sketch.  I'm hoping it will have a successful run even if there are bumps in the road which I know there will be.  But you have to take chances and you have to try something new because staying in the same place will just stagnate you.  I know as long as I have people around who will laugh with me I'll be okay.  I'm probably going to fail a few times before I get it right - that's the scary part.   But that's how you learn and that's what defines you.   Thank you Tina Fey for not being afraid to show me that.   

My Improvelution

I've been doing improvisational theater on and off for about 28 years.    My love affair started in 1984 when I got to take a class at the Florida State theater department.   I loved the non-structure of it.  You had to understand how to work with your scene partner but you were free to create any character, anywhere and at any time.   You were not stifled by the words of the playwright because second by second you were creating the character, the dialogue and the movement of the scene instantaneously.  It could be in Ancient Greece or modern times or a 1950's sitcom - it could be where ever your imagination took you because you could mime your scenery, costume and props.  Your partner had to take what you served them and volley it back to you so that you could both build a really good scene.   That's what I love about improv - it  can be as exciting as a tennis match.  You have control and yet absolutely no control at the same time.  You might come in with a strong idea of how the scene would go but then your partner would have a different idea and you had to go with that.    Good improv scenes are a lot like life - the best ones run on possibilities and acceptance - allowing yourself to say "Yes, and..."  not "No, that will never work."    And just like life, you will meet obstacles that will challenge how committed you are to really sticking with something that you love. 

I didn't major in theater when I went to college because it didn't seem practical and frankly I was afraid I wasn't good enough, even though I was the president of drama club in high school and got cast in plays.    So I settled for something that seemed to make sense for me - becoming a dietitian.   I was very conscious about nutrition and exercise so I figured I would be a good candidate to help counsel others on how to maintain their health.  I had left high school with a 3.8 average and was ranked number 21 in my class.  College should have been a great time for me - but because I was following my practicality and not my passion - I was floundering.   I was getting Ds and even failed a biochemistry class which had never happened to me before.    I was having crying jags for hours on a regular basis because I was so miserable - the only bright spots were the theater classes.  I did audition for plays at FSU, but found that most of the grad students and professors only wanted to cast theater majors and those that had been cast in shows before.    I knew people who had gone for a four year degree in theater and still didn't see any stage time because the same people kept getting cast.  I knew it wasn't me but the system, but it was still pretty frustrating.   So after four years of giving it the old college try - I left Florida State without a degree in anything and my spirits pretty low. 

I got back to Miami and started to wait tables which ironically would have been exactly the same thing I would have done if I had gotten my bachelors in Theater.   The world of food service had it's perks like tips, cute waiters and discounted entrees but I needed more from my life.   I went to see a group called Mental Floss to see what the professional improv acting scene in Miami was like.  They were extremely funny and just what I was looking for - they even had a few women in the group.  When they announced that they would have auditions I was totally there.   I remember that I got to do a scene with Marc who was a company member and it was really funny.   The feedback was very positive and I was asked to start doing workshops with the group which would eventually lead to performing on a regular basis.  

The workshops were led by the founder who was frankly the weakest person on stage, but I was hoping he'd be a better instructor then performer.   He gave some good direction but when the players from the group were there, they openly disrespected him which didn't set a good tone in the workshops.   I tried to stay out of it because I just wanted to start performing.   Finally, after a few months, I finally got my chance and got to do a show with the regular cast.  It was an amazing night - one of those times when everything flowed.  I was in half the games in the show and it seemed like one of those perfect tennis matches when you could hit the ball back with the same strength that you received it.   I left the theater walking on air and one of the guys, Patrick, asked me if I wanted to get something to eat with the company.   I felt so honored and accepted.   That night started my road to doing improvisation professionally. 

Patrick and I started dating shortly after that which at first seemed to be a really good thing.  He saw himself as my mentor - someone who had gotten his Master's Degree in Fine Arts at the Asolo Conservatory in Sarasota which ironically was a program of the Florida State Theater department.   He had very definite ideas about what sort of performer I should be and no matter how much the audience seemed to enjoy my performance, he never really had much positive to say - he never put me down overtly - but he never praised me when I knew I had done a really good show.   I should mention that my last boyfriend was a guy who got angry for no reason, insulted me and also hurt me on one occasion so having a passive-agressive guy like Patrick seemed like a step up. 

As time went on, I created characters like Fluffy La Puff, a stereotypical dumb blond that made Jane Mansfield look like Einstein, Billy Idol's little sister, Billy Jo Idol and Eunice Frump, a country bumpkin who was the creator of "Puddin' on a Bun."   I'd get great feedback from the audience after the shows - people would come up to me in the lobby and tell me how much they enjoyed what I did, that I reminded them of Carol Burnett or Gilda Radner (two of my comedy goddesses by the way), but I rarely got much positive feedback from the other guys in the group.   It wasn't just me, there were a few other women in the troupe that were also experiencing the same thing - always being made to feel like the weak sisters in the group.   In the years since then, I've talked to other women who have had similar experiences.  The comedy world can be extremely sexiest and hard on even the most talented of women.  Even John Belushi used to give Gilda, Jane Curtain and Laraine Newman a hard time on Saturday Night Live.  Belushi flat out stated that women were just not as funny as men.   And so it went, the audience loved the women in the group and the men just kept limiting what we could do.   It was like hitting your head against the wall.   I wanted to leave but since I was also dating Patrick, it felt like my entire world would collapse - no boyfriend and nowhere to perform comedy - who else would want me?  I felt really trapped and I didn't know how to get out. 

Then one day, I got a call at work from Marc who was now the director who told me that he and the other guys in the group decided to put me on inactive because I was not up to speed.  He told me not to feel bad that another woman in the group had also been asked to leave.  When I asked him why he never gave us any type of direction in workshop for what we needed to improve on - his reply was "You're supposed to know!"   I replied, "The whole point if you being director is to direct people who don't know - so if you're not happy with what  we do - then it's your fault for not acting like director!"  which probably was not what he wanted to hear.   Now I'll admit that I probably had areas that I needed to work on but if they are never brought to your attention, you'll never get better.  It also didn't help that the women in the cast felt like they were being singled out.   Amazingly, I still decided to help out working in the box office hoping they would put me back on stage again.   The best part was having people walk up to me and ask if I was in show that night and me telling them that I working behind the scenes.   "Man, that sucks, we wanted to see Fluffy," said one patron within ear shot of Marc.  That same week, I also has two people stop me in Dadeland Mall to tell me how much they enjoyed me in the shows.  My guardian angels were sending me signs that all was not lost and that despite the opinions of some of the guys in the group - I was a good performer - I just needed some solid direction.   

One night after a show, the guys came over to Patrick's to play cards.  It was raining pretty hard and they were out of poker snacks and expected me to go out in the monsoon to get them.  I should have said "Hell no bitches!" but instead I got my purse, my keys, and slumped out of the door.  I fumed in the car but then got a wonderful idea.  I came back and put out their food and then asked sweetly if I they would deal me in.   They condescended and figured that I probably hadn't played cards much so they could exploit that.   Unfortunately for them, I'd been playing cards since I was ten, when my Mom and Dad used to show us the ins and outs of five card draw, seven card stud and black jack during our summers at Fort Myers Beach.   I knew a straight from a dead man's hand and didn't need a ton of wild cards to win the pot.  At first I didn't bet much and pretended that I didn't understand what a good hand was.   They rolled their eyes and took my money in that first round.   I could see them chuckling - even Patrick was joining in.   I kept my poker face knowing that I would win it back and then some.    I won the second hand and pretended like it was pure luck - again betting a modest amount.    As the night wore on, I was winning the majority of the pots, folding every now and then to not let on that I was setting them up for that last big win.   Finally, we got to the last hand in which they all bet their money (which was about $60 bucks) and I had another $20 in the pot.    Everyone had to show their hand and Sal thought he had it with four queens which included three face cards a wild card (you can use wild cards to help substitute when you don't have enough of one card to complete your hand - it's a bonus if you're lucky enough to get one).   Unfortunately, I had four kings (without a wild card) and an ace which beat his queens.  Now, I know that guardian angels don't usually get involved in poker, but I felt that they worked through me to let those boys know that you should never assume that a woman is incapable of anything - whether it's improv or poker.   Their stunned faces were priceless and it had stopped raining when I got back in the car to drive home. 

A few months later, I had finally had enough and stopped going to Mental Floss altogether.   In the meantime, I started auditioning for other theater companies and got cast in almost everything I tried out for.   At one time I was in different stages of rehearsals for three shows and I met the love of my life - Max.    Patrick and I finally broke up.   It felt great to be free of all that negativity.  

A year later, I started my own improv theater group, the Eclectic Company because I loved the art of improv and wanted to do it my own way.  I got a top notch group of actors who later unbeknownst to me - had also been told by Mental Floss that they were not good enough either.   The Eclectic Company shows on South Beach were a huge success and word got back to the guys at Floss that there was a new game in town and it was being run by me.  That was the start of my journey as a woman who was willing to buck the trend of improv groups led by a bunch of white guys.  It has not always been easy - performing spaces and actors  have come and gone, but my love of the art of improv has always been there - whether I was actively performing or teaching it.  Today, as the Artistic Director of the OTC Comedy Troupe, I get to work with smart and funny women and men who just want to do good improv and support each other.   

So to those that feel like there are obstacles put in their way and begin to question their passion - I say stick with it and don't look at a roadblock as a bad thing.  Sometimes it's a guidepost that puts you on a different path.   If I hadn't left Mental Floss, I would have been trying to please people that just weren't going to give me a chance no matter what I did and it would have sucked the joy of improv right out of me.  I never would have met Max.  I never would have seen that I was capable of innovating the art like doing a live improv webshow that got over 225,000 views.    Those roadblocks ended up being the best things that ever happened to me.   As any smart gambler can tell you - you don't have to play every hand you've ever been dealt - you just have to stay in the game.   

Funny Girls

When I was a small girl, the Saturday night line-up of comedies on CBS was about the best thing in the whole world.   I got to see smart funny women being smart and funny.   The night would start off with All in the Family with Edith and Gloria getting the best of Archie and Michael (most of time).   Next the Mary Tyler Moore Show came on and our gal Mary Richards worked relentlessly to produce the WGM 6:00 p.m. Newscast with an over bearing boss and an inept anchorman named Ted Baxter.  Then there was The Bob Newhart Show where Bob's brilliant wife Emily tried to keep things in perspective between Bob's crazy friends and even crazier patients.   Sure, M*A*S*H* was in the line-up too, but I never really saw Major Hot Lips Houlihan as much of a role model even after she lost the "Hot Lips" and just became Margaret.  Finally, we had my patron saint of comedy, Carol Burnett.   I would have to beg my mom to let me stay up until 11:00 p.m. to see the entire show.   I got to sit at the altar of funny ladies every Saturday night and in the 1970's - they ruled network TV.   Back then, aspiring to be a funny girl did not seem that outlandish.   It could be feminine, sexy and intelligent.  You did not have to be Lucy and have to outsmart Ricky to get laughs.  You got what you needed on your own terms and if a man wanted to come along for the ride, all the better.   

Maybe it was because in the heyday of the Equal Rights movement, anything seemed possible for girls.  You had women in Congress like Bella Abzug and Shirley Chisholm daring to question Richard Nixon and his administration during Watergate.    You had Margaret Thatcher's rise to power as a women who wore pearls and puffy hair but could easily stare down her male counterparts just as easily as Winston Churchill.   Golda Mier was the Prime Minister of Israel and was first called the Iron Lady before Thatcher got that title.   Then in India, there was Indira Gandhi -- another nation ruled by a very strong woman.  It seemed conceivable that women were making strides everywhere and if you could dream it, you could be it.   I dreamed of making the world a better place through comedy. 

Praying at the CBS altar of those sacred Saturday nights helped form the comic sensibilities I have today.   The stand-up comediennes of the 1960's like Phyllis Diller, Totie Fields and Joan Rivers had to denigrate themselves to get laughs.  Samantha Stevens and Jeannie had to pretend they were less powerful then they were to assuage the insecurities of Darren and Major Nelson. But these new women of the 70's, these comic goddesses could hold their own with their male counterparts and had the strong ratings to show for it.   I loved them as extended members of my family.   I'd wear a bright paisley head scarf to my fifth grade class like Rhoda and pretend my desk was like the one Mary had in the newsroom.   Sometimes I would pretend my bully Lisa was Sue Ann Nivens - the Happy Home Maker - it made Blue Lakes Elementary a more bearable place to learn.  Once I was in Junior High, I'd get to stay up and see a little of Saturday Night Live.  Gilda Radner and Jane Curtain were a revelation.   Never mind that John Belushi once said that women weren't funny - who needed Samurai Deli and the Blue Brothers when you had Roseanna Danna and Candy Slice?  These women were writing and pushing the envelope in a very subversive way and I loved it! 

In the 1980's the trend continued with shows like Kate and Allie, Designing Women, Golden Girls, Roseanne, Murphy Brown, and Grace Under Fire but for some reason they just didn't resonate with me like the my old CBS Saturday nights.    I liked the Designing Women and no one on TV could monologue like Julia Sugarbaker.  Murphy Brown seemed to be strong in a one note kind of way and every now and again you got to see her vulnerable.  I loved Claire Huxtable and her no nonsense way with her husband Cliff and her five kids.  I could identify with being in a large family and not wanting to tell your father that something around the house was broken for fear he would try to fix it.   God bless my dad, but he was not a handy man like Cliff and we would pretend that the dishwasher was working before we could get a repair in while he was out of town, just like Claire. 

But then in the 1990's - things changed.   You a had few stand out sitcoms like Seinfeld in which a character like Elaine was out numbered by three other male players.   I loved Mad About You and identified with Jamie Buckman during the early years of my marriage to Max.  We even got pregnant about the same time.   Ellen was very funny but the networks bulked when she came out.   When was the last time you saw a pair of lesbians on a sit-com like Cam and Mitchell on Modern Family?   I guess the networks were and still are more comfortable with Will being gay than Grace. 

I'd all but given up once the year 2000 hit.   It seemed like the new millennium was not ushering in new comedies with women at the helm.  Sure you had Friends, but no strong females pushing the boundaries.   Just when it looked like another season of sitcoms with men in the leads and women as copilots - Tina Fey came along with 30 Rock and the comedic embers of my youth were rekindled.   She, like Mary Richards, is the head of a motley crew of actors and writers whose egos lead to comedic chaos.  Her boss is a network executive that is way hotter than Mr. Grant.   The writing is intelligent, irreverent and not politically correct.  Liz Lemon faces being forty, unmarried and having that ticking biological clock with a charming mix of goofiness and brains that makes it one of my favorite sitcoms.   In fact, NBC Thursday nights are my new CBS Saturday nights with sitcoms either created by or starring women who are trying find that yoga-like balance between work and family that seems to elude them each week and many of us as well.   

I've written before about how comedy is my drug of choice.    Having an improv troupe and the ability to make very silly videos gives me a positive outlet for my frustrations.    Acting like a crazy lunatic all these years on stage and YouTube has kept me very sane.  My comedic idols taught me that women can show strength through humor and that laughing at yourself is the best medicine of all.   Edith, Gloria, Emily, Mary, Rhoda, Phillis, Carol, Gilda, Jane, Claire, Murphy, Julia, Jamie, Leslie, Ellen and Liz, you have been there for me when my life has been at a tipping point and I needed a compass to find my way.  Your comedy has been that needle to help me find my way out of an emotionally dark jungle of fear and gave me the courage to believe in myself even when other people wanted to write me off.   That gift, my comedy goddesses, is one I'll always treasure and pass down to the next generation.  

What I've learned is that these funny girls can teach our daughters more than the Kardashians or the Real Housewives ever could:  that life is funny, sweet, ridiculous, you don't always look hot and yes, sometimes it's really, really unfair.   Ellen came out of her career tailspin with a great talk show and a burgeoning entertainment empire.   She survived on her own terms much like my favorite sitcom heroines.  Learning to roll with the punches and laughing at ourselves is what life is all about.   Taking yourself too seriously is a sure recipe for a reality Diva meltdown.   What our girls need to see today are women who know how to be strong, smart and funny.   Women who know how to throw their hats up in the air  and smile because they know they are going to make it after all.