Chapter 7
The summer I turned twenty-seven, I was nominated for an Emmy for the episode I’d written about Henry.
The category was Outstanding Dramatic Writing for a Comedy Series, and I was the only woman in it.
Right away, the studio sicced their director of publicity on me, and we began shaping my responses to questions like why I thought women were overlooked for writing and directing nominations and what did I think needed to happen for this to change.
My responses had to satisfy the discontent of feminist bloggers with hundreds of thousands of foamy-mouthed Twitter followers (it was still Twitter back then) without alienating the mostly male voting body of an awards organization that rarely elevated women but had chosen to honor me.
This was not the only land mine I had to sidestep in strappy heels at all the luncheons and dinners and benefits and Q I was very careful about how I phrased everything.
The episode was inspired by something that happened to me.
Henry was controlling and he frightened me at times, but there was more to it than that.
There were things I wanted from him too, things I wrote into the episode that no one wanted to touch down on.
Seven years later I think people might be ready, might understand that even though some pieces of the story don’t seem to fit with the others, they indeed come from the same puzzle box.
And if they’re not, oh well. I think I’m in danger of imploding if I don’t finally tell the story of what really happened with Henry.