As if designed by Stanley Kubrick, Standard Lounge was neon purple with hipster underwear models lounging inside a giant aquarium, and we wore bright orange mod uniforms like futuristic flight attendants on a nonstop party flight.

My shift was 9 p.m. to 2 a.m., just like the Whiskey, and just like the Whiskey, most people couldn’t figure out how to get past our door guy. (See Part 1.) But the Standard had a completely different energy. While the Whiskey was a cozy womb, the Standard was faster, dirtier and had more overdoses if memory serves.

It was so packed you couldn’t move, hear anything over the music or breathe through all the smoke.

Strangely this job would become my comedy college. Here’s how:

When things were slow between 9 and 10, Wayne would let me sneak over to Dublin’s or one of the other comedy upstarts on Sunset Blvd., where I could watch comics perform. While entertaining, the lineups were usually entirely male, and I remember thinking, You know what would make this show even better? A female POV.

Since I couldn’t find the perspective I wanted to hear, I started to feel an inner pull to create it myself but I didn’t know how.

There are a hundred more bar stories I could tell you: designer Henry Duarte making custom jeans for all of us Standard girls (I still regret selling mine on eBay when I needed cash), Sean Penn leaving me a secret envelope, bands doing tipping wars, flirts and fights, being whimsically whisked away to Japan by one of my rocker boyfriends…Shibuya, Shishito, Shangri-la—it was the night life baby!

However, at some point I began to regularly meltdown mid-shift, signaling the end of my waitressing era. Around this time, the Whiskey/Standard girls all booked a huge commercial with one of our regular directors and celebrated with a group trip to Hawaii for the holidays. Being the only one who wasn’t cast, I couldn’t afford to go with them sadly. So instead of staying home feeling sorry for myself, I thought, Fuck it—maybe I’ll just try stand-up.

Turns out being rejected/redirected was one of the best things that ever happened for me. It’s ultimately what transformed me from a Standard Girl to a Stand-up Girl. When the girls returned, they came to my shows and were so supportive, which I really appreciated as I stumbled through those awkward first comedy sets.

The Standard also provided employee parking passes, which I continued using whenever I performed on Sunset for years before I became a paid regular at the Comedy Store across the street (which comes with your name being painted on the wall and complimentary parking.)

Stay tuned for next month’s Sunday Storytime Substack “America’s Got Trauma: The Relapse Years”

P.S. Exciting news!
I’m leaving town to do a really cool movie but will be doing one final show in LA tomorrow night, love to see ya. partial proceeds benefit the great work of Altadena Musicians

I’d gained access to the exclusive Whiskey Bar Sunset Marquis as a cocktail server clad in customary catsuit, was crushing on my bar manager Wayne (think pre-litigation Johnny Depp vibes) and was now being invited to 3 am “karaoke” with our regulars, deliciously dark rock star Ziggy and movie star Viggo. Ziggy regularly told Wayne he was obsessed with me...but could I entertain this offer and stay sober, sane, alive?

“So... are you coming out with us for the best night of your life?” they asked.

“Well...I can’t. Because...I have play practice tomorrow.”

“Play practice?” Viggo repeated, completely confused.

“Yeah. I’m playing Irina in Chekhov’s Three Sisters at the Stella Adler Theater. We have an early rehearsal but you should totally come see it.”

“We definitely will.”

Spoiler alert: they definitely would not.

That night, by rejecting the offer to do after-hours adventuring with Marky Mark and the DysFUNctional Bunch (who, by the way, were not deterred in the least by my rejection and instead only pursued me harder for the duration of my days at the Whiskey) I accidentally stumbled onto a philosophy that’s served me for the rest of my life.

1) Deny Access

The Whiskey Bar had a line around the block because it said no to most people.

Applying that to my life, nobody gets unlimited access to my time, dreams, love, or energy anymore. Access is earned, and if someone abuses the privilege, security escorts them outside the velvet ropes of my energy field.

I adopted my own reservation policy: my sanctuary is reserved for people who come correct. If you disrespect, I hit eject. If you’re not my tribe, I unsubscribe. If you’re not on my team, you’re not part of the dream.

2) Be the Magic (Castle)

I realized I wanted to be more like the Magic Castle than the Hollywood Walk of Fame. One is mysterious, well maintained, and invite-only. The other feels chaotic, trashy and gets walked all over. And don’t even get me started on that Wax Museum full of fakes…I didn’t want to be an extra in someone else’s life, rock doc or harem, I wanted to be an authentic and original main character energy in the rom-com of my own life.

The same goes for my inner world. Peace and serenity have become the real money in the bank.

Now I do my best to trust my instincts, and I don’t hand over my power to the false gods of fame, money, status, or anyone else’s opinion of me. I don’t let people pleasing override my own truth, needs, or safety. I choose who gets to be in my orbit, and I take responsibility for my own happiness and where I’m investing my magic.

Years later, many from that world—and worlds like it—would be exposed as predators and fall like dominos. Wayne’s life ended tragically early due to suicide, betrayal, and a love triangle involving Ziggy. It easily could have been me tangled up in that triangle or a triangle like it.

I’m grateful I was sober during that time because it afforded me the clarity, dignity, and agency I never had when I altered my consciousness and which would all leave me when I altered it again.

Speaking of which would I survive a lil relapse? Find out next week on Sunday Storytime.

Bonus Q: What are the best accidental lessons you’ve learned from your day (or night) job that have served you the most in your life?

I’d made it through the impossible hiring process of the Whiskey Bar at the Sunset Marquis and was now outfitted in my skin-tight black catsuit, learning the velvet ropes, when I met the queen bee of cocktail servers, Party Pam.

Party Pam was mysterious, voluptuous, and rumored to be both the connection for the “good drugs” and frequently involved in threesomes—the kind of hot girl who would get whimsically whisked away on someone’s private jet and need someone to cover all her shifts. In a word she was FUN.

I had not only never been on a private jet, nor seen one, but I’d come to L.A. at the age of 21 from Lawrence, Kansas, fresh from a family whose main mode of transpo was Toyota Corollas. Practical and predictable.

Everyone loved Party Pam and her effervescent personality. No matter how busy the bar was, she always had a blissed-out look on her face—not a care in the world, like she was gliding above it all on an eternal hot-girl summer. What was her secret and how could I be more like her?

One night, I was invited by two regulars, Ziggy and Viggo, to go do karaoke at 3 a.m. after my shift ended.

Ziggy, a huge rock star who practically lived at the bar between tour dates, had a known crush on me, which he’d expressed many times to our bar manager, and had previously asked me out by saying:

“Look, I’d like to take you on a date, but I don’t drive, so you’ll have to pick me up.”

Which made me think... well, I do have that Corolla... but I also have a boyfriend.

I delayed, deflected, and danced around this date almost every shift that I saw him, despite my overwhelming desire to disappear into his delicious darkness. It was a delicate balance of dominoes. I didn’t say yes, but I didn’t exactly say no either...

So there we were at shift’s end when Ziggy sent his charming movie-star pal, Viggo, to approach me with the fateful karaoke invite. My addiction tried to rationalize this adventure by sounding like my own voice in my mind:

“Come on, it’s just karaoke at 3 a.m. You’re a writer, and you need to have life experiences. This is the moment that could define you as a Private Jet Passenger Party Pam...or keep you in the Corolla Carole Corral.”

But wait, what if something happened to me and nobody else was even awake at this hour or aware that I’d accepted this invite? Isn’t this how girls end up trafficked to other countries—through alluring after-party invites just like these? Maybe it would be fine, and maybe it wouldn’t...Would I make out with Ziggy, become his new girlfriend, or just become another rock ’n’ roll casualty?

Could I really just go do karaoke with these two characters and stay sober/alive?

Stay tuned for Part 3 next Sunday at 10 a.m., only on Substack: Melinda Hill

**Names have been changed

This wasn’t just hard to get—it was nearly impossible. Hundreds of résumés poured in every week and went straight into the trash. Getting hired there was almost as difficult as getting a drink there.

The line wrapped around the block every night. Despite hopeful patrons pleading with the door man most were consistently denied access.

“I’m a soap star!”

“Yeah... we don’t do daytime.”

To get hired, you first had to win over Wayne.

Wayne—the chain smoking Johnny Depp-esque bar manager (early Johnny Depp obvi)—was cool, aloof, moody, and perpetually distracted by his romance with a rock star, which he processed with the bar staff in real time between seating celebrities. I was simultaneously intimidated, frightened of and turned on by him.

Before he’d even interview me, I needed to be referred in.

Luckily, I had two friends (who shall remain anonymous) working there, and I’d briefly bartended at the sister property, SkyBar—a sunny poolside oasis with relentless reggae owned by a supermodel’s husband. Fortunately my experience and references were just enough to pass the Wayne test and be accepted into the Whisky Bar’s dark, cozy, candlelit rock-and-roll womb.

Next came the uniform: the iconic skin-tight black catsuit. Goodbye eating.

Then came the reservation policy.

“Every table has a ‘reserved’ sign and when guests ask ask how to reserve give them the reservation line number…which nobody ever answers.”

“Wait so...who are the tables actually reserved for then?”

“Whatever celebrity Wayne decides to seat there. Let guests know ‘you can sit here until the reserved party arrives’ and when it’s time you’ll let them know, ‘The reserved party has just arrived.’”

Hollywood, in a nutshell.

I had officially made it into Hollywood’s most exclusive bar. What made this place so special that people desperately needed to get into it?

The bigger question was...

Could I stay sober here?

To be continued next week…

***real names have been changed

Each one held the same promise: Maybe we’ll finally be happy here.

My mom was orphaned at age 6 when her veteran father was so damaged by war that he could no longer care for his children. She survived orphanages and stealing food to eat, ultimately running away from a terrible situation at age 16 and marrying my dad at 19. Her need for a home and stability was critical, and my dad was from the “good family” in town. A self-made woman and mother of three young kids, my mom put herself through college, earning several degrees before selling luxury real estate and building a portfolio of rental properties for passive income. The dream was stability and financial freedom.

The reality was tenants who trashed the homes, renovations that never seemed to end, and years spent trying to make one more house feel stable on the quicksand of ever-changing circumstances. I started wondering if she wasn’t just renovating houses. Maybe she was trying to renovate her childhood.

I’ve never shared the homeownership fantasy, but I do share the renovation addiction.

My mom was orphaned by trauma. In many ways, I was orphaned by the trauma she carried. She tried to build safety through houses. I tried to build safety by endlessly renovating myself. Years of therapy. EMDR. Twelve-step programs. Coaching. Retreats. Healing became its own endless renovation project. You fix a family pipe, and now the relationship garage explodes...

Eventually, I realized I don’t need to become someone else to deserve peace and that self-acceptance is finally coming home. Home, to me, isn’t Kansas or any house. Home is creativity, community, recovery, and while proximity matters, it’s also portable. The freedom to make meaningful work. Living somewhere that inspires me. Trusting myself and knowing I can care for myself. Knowing I am safe inside my own life and that I have value no matter what the externals are.

Likewise, sometimes the kindest thing we can do isn’t to keep trying to fix a relationship that isn’t working. Sometimes love looks like letting people live in their own reality while you keep building the one you choose. As an addict I frequently find myself trying to get a “fix” from the illusion of being able to fix, change or save people, relationships and me but the best I can do on a good day is to just accept that there’s nobody to fix because none of us are broken. We are perfectly imperfect.

Nothing to fix is a place of true freedom. There’s nothing to fix but much to be monetized so let’s keep creating. What does home and freedom mean to you? What project are you currently hoarding that could be setting you and others free through expression, catharsis, monetization? I’d love to help and am currently offering a special Independence Day creative consult—20% off the usual rate. It expires July 5th (tomorrow), but you can use the session anytime through December. Limited space avail Independence Day Creative Consult

Much love,

Melindz

Based on the true story of our convos which typically consisted of dad sharing:

1. how much weight he’d lost.

2. the food he’d had that day or was about to eat.

3. that he was getting “standing ovations in anger management class.”

Oh wow—I just realized we totes bonded over disordered eating LOLZ.

Love you dad!
Melindz

P.S. scroll down to find my father’s day poem if ye so dare

This song has always been the vibe/soundtrack of Father’s Day for me, you’re welcome:

My dad is in absentia,
drifting through dementia,
cared for by kind angels.

I wish I’d known him better
when he was still with us—
but he spent a lifetime running away.

We moved twenty-seven times.

He was always chasing somewhere else,
never staying long enough to feel,
never stopping long enough
to heal.

My yoga teacher said,
“Celebrate grief.”

The last thing I want to do is grieve,
even though she says this is how we receive.

But as I cry in child’s pose,
I realize:

With every tear,
I’m staying here.

I’m not running away.
I’m not doing the family dance
of disappearing when the feelings come.

I’m dancing with the feels and the heals of being a Hill.

I’m not continuing the generational leaving,
even though I’m a person who loves to be gone, invisible,
living between the lines of society in a Balinese yoga barn,
a half-built hotel in Mexico,
or living with a rat in an attic—it was erratic,
it was erotic,
it was dystopian dysfunction...
it was familiar,
it was familial.

With every tear,
I break the chain.

With every tear,
I remain.

Whatever’s coming up for you today,
lean in and listen.
Be with it.
Celebrate all the grief of a life we get to participate in—
sometimes boldly,
sometimes moldily.

xoxo

So many people ask me how to make this happen. What’s helped most is creating a gentle social media plan that made it possible for me to:

✨ Go viral, not spiral
✨ Replace cluttered chaos with clarity and cohesion
✨ Create vivacious visibility while offering value in my own voice

A lot of it is mindset.

Instead of thinking, “This clip isn’t relevant anymore,” my friend Juli helped me reframe it as: “Sharing different parts of my comedy journey including repurposed material might help someone or brighten their day, it can be of service in the same way that telling my story is.”

Sometimes newsjacking helps me take an older piece and give it new life through a caption that connects it to what’s happening right now.

The internet is a fickle pickle but I make it fun by thinking of my posts as public diary entries, time stamps of creations I myself have forgotten about. Seeing these classics bring joy to a new generation can be really gratifying and setting a timer so that it never takes more than 10mins enables me get in and get on with my life.

How much stuff is sitting on your laptop that could be out in the world providing people with escape and entertainment?

If you need help I love doing this stuff & I’m offering a special (Kind of like decluttering a closet but it’s your socials?)

xox Melindz

Dear younger me in her darkest moment of despair,

I know you’re wondering how to make your web series Romantic Encounters with Melinda Hill but don’t know how. Don’t worry, here’s how it’ll happen:

First, you’ll create a series based on your one-woman show Marriage Material, pitch and sell it to a network, then hire an incompetent lawyer who takes so long to negotiate the deal that the execs change and the deal goes away.

Distraught, you’ll listen to your managers at Brillstein when they say, “Just call someone with a camera like Jonah Ray and shoot it yourself,” but you’ll wonder how. Don’t worry. You don’t need to know how. You just need to have the intention and willingness to ask for help.

You’ll make a list of ideal collaborators, and when you meet with the first filmmaker on the list and tell him you have five days till your bro’s wedding in Italy and only $200 to make three webisodes and he says, “Let’s do it,” you’ll look no further because you’ve just found your creative husband, and he’s as crazy in all the right ways as you are.

You’ll shoot those eps despite the production mishaps of your phone falling in the toilet, a light falling on someone’s head, and a literal fire on set. Don’t worry, nobody will die, and this is how you’ll learn to produce, write, and star in a series — trial by fire, babes. You’ll emerge with your three webisodes that now serve as a proof of concept.

Around this time, you’ll bottom out on your addictions whilst performing live on a reality show with millions of viewers, go back to your hotel room, and contemplate ending it all after what felt like public suicide — but instead you’ll call that same filmmaker, your creative husband, and say: “Can you please set up a crowdfund so we can monetize this viral shitshow moment?”

Like a Tasmanian taskmaster, after attaching stars and successfully raising the funds in an alcoholic/workaholic blur, you’ll also become estranged from your entire family. Don’t worry, you’ll reunite with them only ten short years later.

Once you have a shoot date, you’ll get sober just in time to shoot six webisodes. Surprise twist: you will stay sober. Yes, making the decision to turn your life into art will actually save your life in myriad ways.

When it comes out and nobody sees it because you didn’t make a marketing plan — don’t give up. This is just how you get to learn marketing.

One year later, this sleeper hit will be featured in a bunch of cool press, become represented by an international agent, and get acquired by 53 countries while winning multiple awards for outstanding writing and acting in a comedy, even winning your friend Taylor an acting award. It will attract exotic world tours and jobs playing yourself in shows created by many of your comedic idols: Sarah Silverman, Maria Bamford, Nick Swardson, Demetri Martin, Cameron Crowe.

You’ll then forget who you are again and go back to waiting for someone to choose you until it becomes too painful and you finally remember you just have to be constantly creating the job you want because if you’re not creating, you’re destroying.

Dear one, instead of asking, “When will they choose me?” ask, “How can I choose ME today and take one action to create the show I want to see in the world?”

Use Instagram to post a micro-movie you want to see every day, and don’t try to get everyone to like you — just make you and your five closest friends laugh.

You got this. I love you!

Melinda

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Check out my 8 steps below and lmk which one helps you the most.

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I was 6 years old when I was fondled in a school bathroom by a scary stranger.

I didn’t know what was happening. So I went back to the classroom and wondered — is this a joke being played on me that everyone is in on? I decided I wasn’t going to act rattled, I wasn’t going to let them “win.”

I didn’t know to walk to the office and tell them there was a predator/perv/pedo loose in the building fondling kids in bathroom stalls. I couldn’t say anything at home either because my dad was an explosive rager and I never knew what exactly would set him off so I just did my best to stay invisible there. Couldn’t risk the potential fallout of sharing that a weird joke was played on me in kindergarten, nor did I have the words at that age…and beyond than that — I didn’t even remember it for 20 years. I suppressed it completely.

My history of people pleasing, prioritizing others over me, and self-abandonment is long and strong.

When we suppress things — or don’t have the words to communicate them — they come out sideways. I didn’t have language for how fucked up that incident made me feel. So instead, I scribbled on another kid’s art project and got put in the corner. I ruined another girl’s birthday sleep-over by anonymously writing cuss words on her Etch A Sketch. My brother and I found some Kahlua to get drunk on at age 8. Et cetera…

Eventually, I became a comedian. Because I could control the jokes.

Years later, I went to EMDR therapy. The memory came back and was filed away in the proper drawer in my brain so I didn’t have to act out on it anymore.

Now I try to check in with that little girl every day. I ask her what she feels, what she needs — and I try to offer it to her. She had to hide and hold a lot for a long time, today she gets to feel safe to be honest and use her words. Speaking our truth is a privilege and a gift, how are you sharing your gift today?

Two and a half years ago, my life blew up. I was deep in Post Infidelity Stress Disorder (PISD!)— unable to eat, sleep, or trust my own reality after discovering that everything I thought I knew was a lie. I reached out for help, and my sisterhood carried me through.

One day a friend said, “You need to call Laura Clery.”

I asked Laura if she could please share how she’d survived betrayal & addiction. That turned into several long healing lunches that became part trauma bonding/ part funny videos/ part vegan foodie heaven. There was so much laughter & levity amidst the darkness and I always left feeling lighter.

When I spontaneously got rid of everything I owned, traveled the world, and turned my heartbreak into a one woman show we kept in touch and somewhere between Mexico and Bali, she asked if I could help turn her story into a show too.

Of course I said I’d love to.

Since then, we’ve met every single week to turn her epic story that helped me survive mine into a show. And last night, she performed it for her very first audience. What a full circle moment and I could not be prouder.

Watching someone alchemize pain into art is profound.

But even more beautiful is this:

Women helping each other survive & thrive.

This is the alchemy of sisterhood (as my friend Mikela said today.)

The patriarchy teaches women to compete, isolate, compare, & try to maintain an unsustainable performative perfection while secretly dying inside.

In recovery they say the opposite of addiction is connection.

Your survival can become a roadmap for someone else.

Whatever you’re going through today —

whether you’re the one asking for help,

or the one extending your hand or both—

the healing isn’t found in pretending to have it all together.

It’s found in connection.

In community.

In saying:

“I can’t do this alone” and having someone else say “I’ve been there. I got through it — and you can too.”

I’m so excited for the world to experience Laura’s show- it’s hilarious, entertaining AF and deeply moving and will show you how powerful and resilient you are & most importantly that no matter what you’re walking through you are not alone ✨

I recently challenged myself to post every day for 30 days on my Breakup Doula socials to promote my solo show of the same name. What I thought would be a marketing push turned into…a personal exit interview. I made it 15 days before exhaustion set in.

Here’s what I learned:

A) It’s actually really nice to connect with people as me. Not “the breakup girl,” not “the healing guide,” just… a person who occasionally eats pad thai at midnight and makes questionable dance videos.

B) I no longer want to be associated with a breakup.
Like… at all. Hard pass. Return to sender.

C) Staying in breakup energy keeps you broke.
Emotionally, spiritually, creatively—and yes, I think that affects the financials too. Turns out, identifying as “mid-collapse” is not a growth strategy.

D) I’ve graduated from believing my terrible life experience exists to fix others.
That was a job I gave myself without benefits, pay, or PTO. Respectfully, I quit.

Now, don’t get me wrong—some people take heartbreak and turn it into absolute masterpieces. Beyoncé gave us Lemonade. Lily Allen is slaying with West End Girl. Icons. Legends. God bless. They say in Alanon “look back but don’t stare.” I take that to mean know where you’ve been but focus on where you’re going and what feels good and true in this moment.

Somewhere along the way, I realized: I don’t actually want to build a career around something I survived. I no longer feel the chemistry with this, I’ve lost interest, I’m going in a different direction.

The real turning point? Running into my friend Drew Droege at a premiere, who said, “Let me know when your show is; I wanna come. You know, the one about the asshole. The breakup…”

And suddenly—a light went on in my brain. Not a flicker. Not a dimmer switch. A full on Boogie Nights Dirk Diggler in lights moment.

I thought:
Oh. I don’t want to be about that anymore.

So…I pivoted.

From PISD (Post Infidelity Stress Disorder) to BLISSED.

Because honestly? The greatest win is just…enjoying your life. And allowing yourself to change your mind when something no longer feels good or serves you.

And speaking of joy—here are some things I did this week that were so fun and that I’m welcoming more of in my life.

• Improvisation & Collaboration: Went to the Backseat Drivers premiere from filmmaker Kestrin Pantera at Vidiots—created from a fully improvised outline. Inspiring and a reminder that making stuff can be fun instead of tortured years of belaboring through a script that’s never done and never gets made. My friend Juli absolutely slayed her pre-show singing solos and musical direction of the film, then we made a spontaneous post-show dance video at Sticky Rice entitled “Waiting for the Pad Thai.” Joy, joy and more joy with a side of soy sauce.

• Art Date: Went to see Dynasty Handbag (Jibz Cameron) at REDCAT with my fellow comedian/clown Christina Catherine Martinez. We took the train from Highland Park to downtown, which honestly had its own pre-show energy. Public transit theater/conspiracy theory podcast vibes. Jibz read from her new book Hell in a Handbag juxtaposed with deeply moving songs/performances that her stories had transformed into- highly recommend this experience!

  So yeah. I broke up with my breakup. I’m dating joy now. It’s going well. We laugh a lot. Sometimes we cry too and that’s good because we’re embracing our humanity and can be our authentic selves with each other. No notes.

What are you doing this week for fun?

May offerings:

• Melinda’s Marvelous Monday Mic for Magical Musings: I started a casual neighborhood mic/community offering exclusively for new material with optional feedback—soft launched on Monday and it is SOVids here fab! Join us Mondays 2-4p at Cheerio Collective, sign up at 1:45p. $5 for 5 mins. 5917 N Figueroa St, Los Angeles, CA 90042

• Comedy Special/ Solo Show for Filming Mastermind Workshop on ZOOM—come make something joyful, weird, and fully not about your worst moment. Or… at least not only about that. Starts in May and will run 6 weeks on zoom culminating in a final presentation. There’s only one spot left in this one, DM me to get involved & I also have 2 spots currently avail for 1:1 coaching via phone, zoom or IRL.

• Enjoy comedy, dance and fun adventures on my IG @RealMelindaHill & Utube: MelindaHill

Much love,

Melindz

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Hi pals, I’m working out my new show Breakup Doula tonight & I love doing it within 5 mins of my home! Come out and support this cool lil theater if ur in the hood- love to see ya **They have a bar & a taco stand next door if ur hungry & thirsty. Will begin promptly at 7:30p xo

Tix (all proceeds benefit the non-profit theater)

1. Largo w/ the wonderful Chris Fleming: how can one person be so lovely, talented & kind? 💛 the group hang after the show reminded me of early days in comedy: the casual camaraderie & convos, discussions of the creative journey, staying out until early morning hours - heaven 🌈 More pix here

2. Crossroads Kitchen w/ Laura Clery b4 her show at the Improv was a vegan foodie paradise. We had the vegan “steak” made out of a bordelaise mushroom, pristine au gratin, roasted parsnips w/ dates & squash blossoms w/ cashew cream & all I can say is 🤯 Thank you universe & many more plzzz 🌼 It was Laura’s first standup set in 9 years and I was so happy to be with her through it…I tried to remember my first and it will take a whole other post to detail it.

Lastly, “how do you do comedy?” Is a question I get a lot. I can only give you what I’ve been given which is: Truly just do it, that’s the whole secret. The secret is the magic is within you and once you’re witnessed in a spotlight it shall be released. “But what if it’s not ready?” What even is ready? We are all a perpetual work in progress and you showing up imperfectly gives permission/inspires someone else to do their work too. You got this 💪

I personally 100% of the time never feel like doing my own work and yet feel so much better after I do…I always find new nuggets and it grows and evolves the more I show up for it. The more I allow it to exist with and through me imperfectly, messily, the more it comes together to be what it will be or something else. Allowing oneself to be seen imperfectly, authentically, in order to be of service as an entertainer- that’s true intimacy baby!

Speaking of which—Love to see you at my new solo show Sunday 3/29 at Outside In Theater in Highland Park LA 7:30p TIX HERE —all proceeds go to the nonprofit theater & nobody is turned away for lack of funds 🤗

And don’t forget it’s not the destination that matters so much as all the fun, laughs, connection, community, and roasted parsnips you get to have along the way.

See u 2nite for BREAKUP DOULA @ Outside In Theater GET TIX

future dates: March 8, 20, 29 xo

1. yes, i did go all the way to Bali to get this photo. talk about production value! but YOU only need to go to highland park (los angeles 90042) to see my new show

   Breakup Doula @ the Outside In Theater March 8, 20, 29. All proceeds benefit the theater (a non-profit) Outside In

2. i’m performing at Largo with the spectacular Chris Fleming March 11th

3. i’m teaching a one-time only workshop called Rewrite Your Life that begins TOMO 9a at Scribble Community Center with 50% of proceeds benefitting the Scribble sliding scale therapy program & 12 step recovery programs. **only 1 spot left!

4. i’m currently offering a special on special coaching. if u know someone who can benefit from this support the one month intensive special special (not a typo) my referral/thank you fee is $500. so send someone my way & as soon as they sign up you get $500 USD—so easy & fun, right? coaching info

lastly, here are some wonderful productions i’m so excited about that i think you will love too- check em out!

1. my brilliant friend Claire Woolner’s show Retrospection 2/27 at Elysian

   

2. Chris Fleming: Live at the Palace comedy spesh premiering on HBO 2/27

   

   3. my dear friend Broadway Barbara brings Easter heat to Dynasty Tyepwriter 3/29

   

Blessings & blissings,

Melindz

This month, I saw five performances that reminded me why we create—to connect, to serve, and to set ourselves free.

1️⃣ HaHaHa at Pasadena Playhouse

Beloved clown and clown coach Julia Masli has made her entire show a custom experience for and ABOUT her audience—so artful, so special, so feel-good.
It reminded me of touring the South Pacific for the troops with fellow comedian Sarah Tiana, who would make her comedy set exclusively about every town or island we were performing in that day, and all of the people in it. She would go hang out in the town during the day and report her findings in the show each night much to the delight of the soldiers at the show. Perhaps the truest artistry is using one’s creative ability to make people feel seen. tix/info here

2️⃣ In Honor of Jean-Michel Basquiat at Outside In Theater

One actor. One painting. One microphone. Barefoot in a suit, playing every character. Proof you don’t need a big set to take us on a massively powerful journey that had us in tears. Minimalism + mastery = magic. treat yourself to info/tix here

3️⃣ Judd Apatow’s Benefit for the Downtown Women’s Shelter at Largo

Featuring Maria Bamford, Jackie Kashian, Marc Maron, and music. My favorite moment? When Judd handed Maria a stack of cash for her performance, and she shared it after—literally handing me a baby stack from her pile. The only comedian I know who is paying audience members for participating in crowd work, Maria models something rarely seen in comedy: transparency of valuing your worth while sharing the wealth.
(Keep an eye out for her documentary produced by Judd Apatow & team in 2026—it will explain the backstory on this iconic moment and is going to be incredible.)

4️⃣ Voice Lessons by Rob Paulsen at The Lyric Theater

Rob, who voices some of the most beloved cartoon characters ever, filled the room with laughter and love. He took audience requests—doing their favorite voices live—and made the show so magically about us.
That’s a real superpower from a superhero of voices: when your story becomes a mirror for the audience’s joy. Did you know he’s also a voice coach?! Find info on his shows/signings/coaching here: shows/info

Also excited to see:

🎭 CLAIRVIN Live — Directed by John Gilkey tomorrow Tues 10.28

CLAIRVIN — aka the BRILL Claire Woolner and Kevin Krieger — return with a brand-new live show directed by the one and only John Gilkey and I will be there if i can stay up that late. I saw Kevin & his bestie Tyler live at Lyric last month and they blew my mind with a fully improvised hour created for and about pleasing the audience. 📍 Location: Lyric Hyperion in Silver Lake tikky info here

🎬 Why I’m Filming my solo show (and Why You Should Film Yours Too)

My EMDR therapist asked me this week, “Is this show (Messterpiece) keeping you connected to your past?” I had to admit… in a way, yes. While it’s been extremely cathartic to share this story that has connected me to my community like nothing I’ve ever done, I had to admit yeah it’s kind of keeping not-so-fun memories alive in theater and I am interested in fully moving on in life & art. On the other hand, I LOVE doing my new spin-off show Break-up Doula bc it feels proactive and in solution and, well, like the theme of this whole blog, it’s ALL about helping others, not me.

We decided it’s time to film MESS or repurpose into some other IP—so the story can go out into the world and be entertaining people, instead of keeping me in it.

If you’re sitting on a story, comedy hour, or solo show—IMHO here are 5 reasons to film it and set it free:

1️⃣ You don’t have to keep reliving it.
2️⃣ It can go out into the world helping others.
3️⃣ You free yourself up to create new material (and new experiences).
4️⃣ It creates passive income while you sleep.
5️⃣ It attracts new work, clients, and opportunities—my last special led to global bookings in film, TV and tours + attracted creative coaching clients I adore.

🎤 Upcoming Show (hope to see you):
💔 Breakup Doula: From Chaos to Clarity
📍 The Glendale Room
🗓️ November 15th at noon
💸 Donation-based — come laugh, cry, and rewrite your own story.

What are some shows you’ve been loving/wanting to see? Drop it in the comments below…& if you know someone who’s ready to turn heartbreak or other chaos into something healing and hilarious, I’d love to help—👉 discover what it’s like to work with me here & DM to join wait list for creative coaching xo

*Originally published in LA Times LA Affairs, Halloween issue Oct. 30, 2021 w/ Art by Franziska Barczyk

Written By Melinda Hill

I felt super excited and nervous about my date with an ex-boyfriend, which surprised me — since he is dead.

Let me explain: When my ex died in 2019, I felt nothing at first. We had dated many, many years earlier, and even though we loved each other, we had many unresolved issues. When we broke up, I’d filed him away in a heart-shaped time capsule, never to be opened again. Moreover, I didn’t have the bandwidth to properly mourn, since I was putting in grueling hours acting on a film set.

So imagine my surprise when, more than a year after his death, I found some of his songs on the internet, songs he had written about me. They cracked my heart open as if it were a rainbow bleeding all the colors of delayed grief.

The songs took me back to a chaotic, passionate time when we lived as young, struggling artists in his Silver Lake shoebox. The deluge of emotions I was feeling was so intense that a mutual friend suggested something I’d never done before: try to connect with him through a psychic medium.

My session with the medium began on Instagram Live, with the medium offering up a disclaimer that, “The deceased you want to communicate with may not show up, so just be open to whomever does.”

I grew concerned that my ex wouldn’t show up for our otherworldly date and half-joked, “Am I going to be ghosted by a ghost?”

But it was no laughing matter when the medium began telling me things about my ex that she couldn’t possibly know.

“There’s someone here who’s thin with dark hair. He’s playing guitar on the floor and singing a poem for you. You lived together.”

I had chills as I sensed my ex materializing like a film negative coming into focus.

“You have his ashes, his remains.” But wait ... no, I don’t. I assume his family has his ashes. Could she have meant the lyrics that are pieces of his soul? I did have those remains of him.

“Yes,” I agreed.

“You sensed his scent.”

“Yes,” I said, “is that an afterlife aftershave? An afterlife aphrodisiac?” (Humor is my coping mechanism.)

“He wants you to know he loves you,” the medium said.

Rosy memories emerged of dancing the night away at Sunset Junction Street Fair, an orange dawn when he handled my cat’s unexpected death for me, yellow coconut curry at our fave Indian cafe.

“He’s obsessed with you.”

I felt angry, confused. Why didn’t he say any of that while he was still alive? How am I supposed to rekindle a romance with a ghost? (A premise for a TV show popped into my mind: “She found the love of her life. There’s only one problem: He’s a ghost.”) Also, why now? I surmised that ghosts operate on ghost time and don’t have any boundaries.

“He wishes he could’ve told you more sooner. He wants to thank you for taking care of him.”

I remembered the amount of energy I invested in his band‘s success so he could afford to take us on a long-dreamed-of trip to Hawaii and then settle down into a stable lifestyle. (I didn’t yet know that I wanted to be on stages, making people feel things with comedy and traveling to exciting places for work.)

Not-so-rosy memories emerged of the year after, when Sunset Junction seemed like a darker carnival of chaos.

The night he said, “We need to talk when we get home,” and I felt green with nausea, dread, envy and suspicions of his surreptitious sexcapades. That’s when he confessed that, even though he had finally gotten sober, his past drug addiction had resulted in a variety of health complications. He said he knew he wouldn’t live as long as me and wanted to spare me that pain. He said we should break up. Bewilderment blues set in.

Through the years, we traded places: The performer I admired settled down, while I turned my tears into relationship jokes that took me around the world as a comedian, performing in Hawaii and a bunch of other dream destinations several times. I didn’t yet know that my subconscious aim was to stay uncommitted and avoid ever being vulnerable again.

“He wants you to know he’s so proud of you,” the medium said. “You helped him heal.”

“What’s the big takeaway?” I asked, still stunned.

“The big takeaway is, love is eternal.”

Afterward I felt like I had some answers, but I also had some questions.

Now that my heart had been cracked open by a person whom I had no way of being with, how was I supposed to deal with trying to get over this during a pandemic? I felt retroactively obsessed with and haunted by my ex, who admittedly seemed way more present as a ghost than he ever did when we dated.

It occurred to me that perhaps someone should create a medium dating app or dating show — “Medium Matchmaker”? — to help folks make peace with their past in order to become present for their future. (You know, because if you’re still stuck in the past, then you’re truly living in a haunted house.) Or since my exes have often become my muses and vice versa, a “muse” dating app for those looking to immortalize their love connection in art ... an app that’s like Meet Cute, but instead it’s called Meet Muse.

Clearly, I had some more exploring to do. I found a therapist who met me on Zoom, and we reprocessed the relationship in the blinking dots of EMDR therapy, pandemic style.

Here I saw the full picture — that of a pivotal, profound love that wasn’t supposed to be any more than it was. I wanted to rescue him and to be rescued, and instead he was removed so I could rescue myself. I forgave him and myself for any harm caused knowingly or unknowingly and felt like maybe I could finally take off my love-proof protective vest.

I felt transformed by the gift of grief.

For our second date, I’m going to ask my ex if he’ll join me for couples therapy.

The author is an L.A.-based actress, comedian and the creator of the podcast “Let’s Process This With Melinda Hill” and the new comedy special “Inappropriate.” She is on Instagram @realmelindahill.

***L.A. Affairs chronicles the search for romantic love in all its glorious expressions in the L.A. area.

Hi guys it’s me, Melinda! Thought you might enjoy this essay fm the vault & if ur currently haunted by a heartbreak (doesn’t have to be romantic) plz drop a comment/question below for a chance to be featured on the the Break-up Doula advice show!! What? Hell yesssss—more deets later, love u byeee

Reflecting on the ending of Marc Maron’s WTF Podcast caused me to remember all that the podcast has given me along with giving me something I didn’t expect: share shame—that post-interview vulnerability hangover where you replay what you said and wonder if you went too deep, too dark, too cringe, if you were too much or just enough.

Immediately after the fun vibes of laughing with an old friend while recording my WTF I stepped off Marc’s bucolic porch into what can only be described as share shame central, an all encompassing OCD sphere of rumination, perseveration and fearful projection. So I did what I oft do when I’m spiraling — I called my friend Margaret Cho, who is wiser and more experienced on many to most topics.

I told her, “But I talked about The Groundlings! And he even had me talking about my unresolved daddy issues and exes whose names I haven’t uttered in years!”

She laughed and said, “First, nobody gives a fuck about the Groundlings. Secondly, it’s not our job to tie things in a bow for people. It’s our job to tell the truth and if we lived through it, we get to share our story.”

🔥 That snapped me out of my shame spiral and I immediately began to feel better approximately one anxiety-ridden month later.

When the pod dropped so many wonderful people reached out to thank me saying they’d been helped or inspired in various ways and I realized wow, you really don’t have to have your sh*t all figured out in order to connect with people—sharing your truth in and of itself is actually enough. Ultimately I felt proud that we had such a great talk about making amends which is exactly the conversation I wanted my comedy special to continue bc I’m super interested in learning how to take responsibility and show up differently in order to have a new experience.

Here’s what I learned — and what I now share with my creative coaching clients — about how to tell your truth without regretting it later.

1️⃣ Set Internal Boundaries/Intentions Upfront

Before interviews, decide what you will and won’t discuss.
My personal boundaries:

• I never badmouth people or share stories that aren’t mine to tell.

• I focus on my own experience, feelings, and growth.
  A safe bet: stick to facts and your feelings when talking about others.

• This can be especially challenging with folks whose superpower is getting you to spill the tea and it’s ok to PAUSE (postpone action until serenity emerges), take a breath, take a sip, re-center and collect yourself. Don’t worry—they’ll wait!

• I also recommend processing heavy stuff with a professional prior to sharing it publicly otherwise it can really re-traumatize.

2️⃣ Protect Your Energy (Even From “Good Press”)

When my comedy special came out, my team wanted me to do every podcast under the sun. I said no.
After doing WTF and The Mental Illness Happy Hour, I felt the story had been told.
The reason I archive my trauma into art is so I don’t have to keep reliving it.
You don’t owe endless emotional labor for visibility.
You don’t owe the internet unlimited access to your nervous system. 💅

Plus from a marketing standpoint leave some mystery so they have to go watch/read the thing to learn more. It’s called intriguing baby!

3️⃣ Use the Recovery Storytelling Formula

Borrow this from recovery meetings:
What it was like → What happened → How it is now.
It’s simple, structured, and powerful.
The key: Don’t trauma dump or lecture.
Look back, but don’t stare. Keep a sense of narrative arc and spend some time on the positives- the “how it is now” of it all.

4️⃣ Think About the Gift You’re Giving the Audience

When I’m preparing for an interview, I picture my avatar — essentially me 5–10 years ago, before I knew the things I know now.
What did she desperately need to hear? What words would help her hear the message?
Make a short list of 5–10 lessons or truths you wish someone had told you.
That becomes your emotional GPS.

5️⃣ Think of the Audience Like Your Smartest Best Friend

This is my go-to coaching tip: talk to the listener like they’re your smartest, kindest, funniest friend both on stage and in interviews.
It helps you drop the performance mask and stay grounded in authenticity and all that makes you YOU-niquely you.
When I remind myself I’m already accepted, I can exhale, relax, be real and be present for the magic of the moments.

💫 Your Turn

What helps you stay grounded in interviews or creative work?
Any hot tips for avoiding share shame?
And if you’ve ever had a favorite WTF episode — what was it and why?

Mine?

• The one Maria Bamford ep where she talked about the subtle forms of abuse in relationships — so illuminating.

• And Martha Kelly’s episode, where she opened up about food issues and recovery — it inspired me to look into my own eating disorder healing plus inspired me so much to hear about her getting her first series reg in “Baskets” from Zach Galifianakis at age 47.

• All of Margaret Cho’s eps detail how she built her empire courting her following and developing her comedic voice while being an activist and advocating for other survivors.

Their honesty changed my life. And that’s the power of storytelling done with heart, humor, and healthy boundaries.

✨ If you’re a creative or comedian ready to turn your life story into art (without the share shame), I help people transform their pain into punchlines and truth into creative gold.

👉 Book a creative consult session with me here: creative coaching for solo shows, comedy, comedy specials

My 3rd impression of her was being in Deadline with her. Diane & me in Deadline

While being cast as the 8th lead in a Diane Keaton/ Jeremy Irons film, written by fellow comedians and directed by frequent Adam Sandler collaborator Dennis Dugan, is certainly one of the coolest things that ever happened to me, Diane had already shot her scenes by the time I arrived in Boston to shoot mine so no IRL Diane impressions were made I like to think it would’ve gone something like this:

Me: Diane, how do you succeed in comedy, acting, life and love?
Diane: Just be yourself. Be the most yourself anybody could ever be- that’s more than enough. And be comfortable while you do it. Wear cool hats and big pants.

Beyond impressions mostly I’m just impressed by Diane Keaton. In closing:

Dear Diane,

Thank you for modeling fabulousness while never marrying. For being an icon of style, acting, and awkwardness. For making vulnerability the new punk rock but also being discerning about who you shared your art and private life with (excellent boundaries.) I will never stop admiring, enjoying or attempting to emulate your magnificence.

Eternal gratitude and respect.

What are your favorite impressions, memories, movies of Diane Keaton’s? How did she positively impact your life? Lmk in comments below <3

In other news: would you like to build a solo show or online presence or both? Then DM me about my new Zoom workshop Sosh Media SuperStar! 7 wks long, payment plans avail, more infoz about how I can help ur dreams happen here: Melinda Hill consulting