One of the greatest things about having an honest writing partner, is that she’s willing to sit across the table from you and say, “No, Leyna. It’s just not that funny.” Sounds like some form of sick therapy for a stilted stand-up comedian, but really, it’s just one of many perks in the partnership. Sort of a checks and balances, if you will. Annie approached me to write Road to the Altar with her. It sounded fun, and I was flattered she thought of me. When she directed me in a very serious project, The Passenger, I thought she was smart, gifted, and motivated. But we never got a sense of what each of us found amusing.

As soon as we started writing, it began to happen. What will Rochelle and Simon taste in their session with the caterer? Mozzarella sticks? Nah. Fried zucchini? Ho hum. Wieners? Hell yes. Why? Wieners are funny. We agreed. Rather rapidly we discovered we were on the same page when it came to what makes us laugh. If we both find smatterings of swine products funny, we could potentially grow together. It took me a long time to find a writing partner who was tickled at the insanity of a two-minute dick joke, but when I found her, I was the lucky one.

As we began to work, we found similar notes could make both of us cry, as well. So interestingly enough, as the work for Road to the Altar began to unfold, so did about three or four treatments for more serious projects. After all, marital and family situations get seriously sticky, they cost years of tears, vials of waterproof mascara, and tons of Kleenex. And sometimes a story is worth exploring in this vein and indulging cathartic experience. Other times, it’s worth pushing the tragedy to the point of insanity and comedy, as are often our lives. And for those times, gratefully, we laugh.