Letters to Joan has been my baby for the past three years. Since January, preparing to bring it to the Edinburgh Fringe has consumed my life, every second, every morsel of my time and energy poured into it.
Though I moved to London about a year ago, the story began in New York. This July, I flew back for rehearsals, and it felt deeply full-circle and surreal, coming back to the city where the story first took shape.
The rehearsal process was intense and beautiful. After months of working remotely, finally sharing space with my director, Martavius Parrish -who works at Lincoln Center with Lear deBessonet, and my co-star, Kevin Cahill, brought a new depth and energy to the work. Hearing these letters aloud together in the same room, for the first time, was both vulnerable and thrilling.
For so long, I held this play close and private. Sharing it in rehearsal, and especially at our NYC preview, was a milestone. Friends, family, and longtime supporters came to watch, many seeing this deeply personal side of me for the first time.
The response was incredible. People opened up about their own family histories, grief, and the letters and memories they cherish. It reminded me that while this story is deeply personal, its questions about legacy, loss, and connection are universal.
Now, here in Edinburgh, I share Letters to Joan every day. Each audience brings something new. It’s a joy—and a special responsibility -to bring these letters, and my grandparents, into the room.
People ask how I’m feeling. It’s hard to put into words. Sometimes, presence isn’t about being still enough to observe it all. Maybe it’s letting the bigness of it wash over you. When something is this full, this sacred, this all-encompassing… it can’t be neatly held.
Maybe presence is letting yourself be swept up in the middle of it, without time to pause.
This blog is my way of holding it close, even as it unfolds all around me.
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