A lot of my writing is about being a mother.  Which is kind of ironic to me, since the early days of parenting felt marred by mourning a creative life.These days my sons are wise to the fact that they provide much fodder for my work.   I can barely tell them about a new project before they’re doing some wacky math to calculate their cut.  Recently I did slightly better than breaking even on a show, and they still somehow figured that I owed them 10 bucks.  But I don’t actually talk about them very much, not as real people, not like in real life.  And I think that’s mostly cause, well… I can read a room. 

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