Last night I found myself in a not unfamiliar and very overdramatic place, a place I like to hang out in basically after each of my plays debuts in New York — spiraling about my ability to write, wondering if I would ever do it again. I decided to look for more bad Cake reviews, searching for confirmation that I am, in fact, a shallow hack that should go crawl under a couch and or / go back to customer service. AND WHAT, YOU ASK, DID I FIND? I suddenly have a Wikipedia Page . A long and thorough wikipedia page, with a section for Early Works. A page that includes not one but quotes from ALL of my bad Times reviews, but still, a page that steps through my whole career thus far, from overwritten one acts in festivals to TV awards nominations, my marriage to actor Morrison Keddie (my favorite part.) And I remembered that every time I feel for the tiniest of moments that I can’t do it anymore, that it’s all been a lie, that I am the empress really wearing no clothes at all — I get some little sign to keep going. The timing is always so sharp, it always feels as if I’ve written it. HI, SIGN. THANKS FOR THE NUDGE.