In the fall of 2018, the world as I knew it imploded putting me on a collision course with
catastrophe and success. The catastrophe part was clear as a bell, the success…not so much. In
retrospect, I see that sometimes it takes an explosion and the ground to split in order to rise
above the demolition to resurrect and be on the path one is meant to be.

Allow me to explain. At the time, I was represented by a prestigious agency by which, since I
was a yearling, had always wanted to be repped. There’s a certain cache that comes with an
agency’s status. It makes you feel you’re pissing with the big boyz-or girls, a status that reflects I
have significance, therefore; I am.

Work took off. I recurred on New York’s iconic shows, Law & Order and L&O SVU amongst
other television gigs; was cast in a major feature film; and did theatre. Life was good, until the
roles got fewer and the bookings leaner. After all, I was a woman “of a certain age”, and unless
you’re a star, or “a name”, you’d better have a rich spouse or a real estate license ‘cause the odds
of being sought after by the Entertainment Industry at my age was less than being hit by lighten
or the lottery. The calls got scarcer, the bookings fewer. Before long, that fateful phone call
came. “We love you, nothing personal, but you’re a female, (old since you’re over 40) and
there’s really no use for this heifer in our stable.” I was dropped.

To put a perspective on the significance of losing theatrical representation for a middle-aged
woman, my dear friend, Brian Tarantina (who was on The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel and has since
passed, sadly) said, “They dropped you? At this stage?!” Yeah, at this stage indeed because who
is going to rep me now? No one, it seemed. I made multiple calls, most of which went
unanswered or, if they did reply, the answer was the same, “We have women in your category
who we can’t get work. Now, if you were a woman of color, Indian, say, we’d be interested.”
“I’ll tan,” I’d joke, but they ignored the humor. The way it looked, my career was over, done,
finished without me making that choice.

During all this, I was in an obsessive, lustful, met the-love-of-my-life, crazy-making relationship.
Why is it the unhealthier the relationship the more addictive it is? I felt like I was dating crack.
Needless to say, that blew up in my face along with my theatrical representation leaving me

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tossed aside like roadkill. So many rugs were pulled out from under me the floor collapsed, and
I was in freefall. No representation, no work, lost my health insurance, cyphering off my savings,
and devasted with a broken heart. Life never looked bleaker.

In the course of only 6 weeks, I lost 7 pounds, which I did not have to lose, my hair was falling
out, and my breasts looked like deflated helium balloons-which reflected my life condition
perfectly. One afternoon upon returning home, I dropped to my knees in utter despair weeping.
Perhaps a good cry will help, I thought, until the crying wouldn’t cease. It became
uncontrollable. Is this a breakdown? The thought terrified me. Rising to my feet, fists clenched
like Scarlett O’Hara, I repeated aloud, “I will not break down!” Finally, getting control of my
emotions, my therapist’s voice echoed in my head, “Put one foot in front of the other and keep
moving your feet.” Drained, I chanted and prayed then reluctantly went back to making calls,
sending emails, and went to Plan B, though there was no Plan B to go to.

One never forgets acts of kindness, especially in despair.

My commercial agent, David Elliot, said to me as I wept with humiliation in his office, “Your
value hasn’t changed.”
“Did you not hear me, David? I was dropped by my theatrical reps. My value is lower than Iraqi
currency.”
“Look at your body of work, your skill set. Your value hasn’t changed.” He led me into my other
commercial agent’s office, Michael Raymen, who, unbeknownst to me, was the president of the
agents’ association. He set up an appointment with a prestigious office, parallel to the one that
gave me the boot. That meeting went well, very well, and my optimism ran high until I received
a gracious, respectful rejection saying that because I wasn’t 20 something, had I been a woman
of color, they would be very interested in signing me. Seemed like my value was paling.

But I heeded the advice of my therapist, “Pray, chant, and keep moving your feet.” Reluctantly,
with little faith in the process and in myself, I asked Michael for another recommendation. As
the saying goes, 10 th time’s a charm.

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These new agents said what I didn’t expect. They had no one like me, I embodied New York
sophistication, intelligence, and chic. All I kept thinking was, But I’m a blue-collar, Italian
American girl from Schenectady, though was wise enough not to verbalize that thought to them.
They signed me, and a new, working relationship was born.

Now, just over three years later, I recur as Judge Nina Larkin in season 1 of: POWER BOOK 2:
GHOST, guest starred to critical acclaim on FBI, BILLIONS and THE DEUCE, won a SAG
AWARD for my work in THE TRIAL OF THE CHICAGO 7, recently shot a Hallmark
Christmas movie, am in the #1 video game in the world, HORIZON FORBIDDEN WEST. And
last, but most exciting, I am in two of the most anticipated shows of 2022: recurring in
INVENTING ANNA as Sasha Thomas, and THE FIRST LADY as Laura Bush opposite Viola
Davis’ Michelle Obama. Oh, and my dating life is rather hot now, too.

Moral of the story: When the world seems to have lost faith in you, even when you lose faith in
yourself, always believe in hope, move your feet; and never take no or any rejection as your final
answer.