We caught up with the brilliant and insightful Nicki Pappas a few weeks ago and have shared our conversation below.
Nicki, appreciate you joining us today. It’s always helpful to hear about times when someone’s had to take a risk – how did they think through the decision, why did they take the risk, and what ended up happening. We’d love to hear about a risk you’ve taken.
In January 2019, I left the religious environment I’d been a part of for a decade after being directly spiritually abused. For the entirety of my twenties, the people there had been my family. Since I hadn’t cultivated relationships outside of the group, my circle of support was small. It was difficult for me to trust others, and even more difficult to trust myself. I began going to therapy in the fall of 2019 and shared my personal writing with my therapist. She told me that writing was helping to heal me and encouraged me to continue writing.
I slowly tried new things to boost my confidence, such as establishing boundaries and entering writing competitions. None of my writing was ever selected, but I kept entering my pieces anyway. Then, I signed up for a yoga class and to audition for a musical with a local theater. When everything shut down because of the COVID-19 pandemic in the spring of 2020, these opportunities were no longer an option, and I was isolated once again. The difference was that everyone I knew was isolated, too, not just me. This led to me beginning a podcast called Broadening the Narrative that launched in August 2020.
Through the podcast, I was able to interview guests who were broadening the narratives I had been taught within my religious context. Being a podcast host, and having people value the conversations happening on the show, further contributed to me growing in confidence. I also reclaimed my own narrative and published a memoir in the fall of 2022 titled As Familiar as Family: Leaving the Toxic Religion I Was Groomed For. When I saw that there were auditions for an upcoming show in a local theater, I was more emotionally prepared to handle whatever outcome than I had been in early 2020. So, in December 2022, I took the risk of auditioning to prove to myself that I could put myself out there regardless of whether or not I was cast.
Well, I was cast as Actress #3, which included almost ten characters in various vignettes over the course of the production of “The Dining Room.” One of my fellow cast members invited me to a meeting for another local theater, Main Street Theater. The group is composed of writers and actors who workshop plays together and then produce them. It sounded like a dream that was too good to be true, but I almost didn’t go the first night because I was so nervous. However, I knew that I wanted to act and that I wanted to begin writing plays, so I took some deep breaths and didn’t let that familiar feeling of imposter syndrome get the better of me.
Over the past year, I have opened myself up to trusting a new group of people. As a part of Main Street Theater, I have now written six plays, been in four plays, and had two of my plays produced. I’ve also continued to write books and host my podcast while adding additional identities, such as the Director of Self-Publishing at The Open Book Company. My story post-religion is full of one risk leading to another. Even when things didn’t go as I wanted them to, I learned that “rejection” and/or “failure” were survivable and that they are valuable teachers. Taking the risk to not only attend a Main Street Theater meeting but to take scripts to receive feedback on would not have been possible if I had not built up the stamina by showing up for myself in the little and big things all along the way.
Nicki, before we move on to more of these sorts of questions, can you take some time to bring our readers up to speed on you and what you do?
From the time I was young, I loved to write and perform. When the pen touched the paper and when the spotlight found me on the stage, I came alive! Throughout my younger years, my writing mainly consisted of filling up my Lisa Frank diaries, and my performances were typically relegated to pageants at church during holidays. In high school, the only writing I did was for school assignments, and I wasn’t cast in a major role when I auditioned for “Grease,” so I quit. Out of an abundance of caution and not wanting to be “rejected,” I set my writing and theatrical ambitions aside.
In the decade or so following this time, these desires stayed dormant in me, but they never disappeared. When my oldest child was born, I dabbled in blogging about motherhood as an avenue for processing all that I was experiencing as a new mom. I even wrote the first draft of what would become my debut memoir As Familiar as Family seven years later. However, I stayed away from the stage in any capacity, both because of the “Grease” audition and because I had an embarrassing audition for the worship band at the church I attended in my twenties. Further, I was being told in the religious context I was a part of that motherhood was God’s highest and holiest calling for my life and anything that tempted me away from this was a distraction. Hence why my blog was about this very topic. That way I could write and have a creative outlet that aligned with the expectation for motherhood to be my whole schtick.
After leaving the religious community I’d been in, I lost a large piece of my identity along with the bulk of my community. Little did I know, the losses would provide me with the chance to get to know myself apart from the person others wanted or expected me to be. I revisited the initial draft I’d written of my book and began rewriting it as a third personal fictionalized narrative. Around this time, I started attending therapy and entering my writing into competitions. My therapist encouraged me to keep writing because of how much it was helping me heal.
In the fall of 2022, I self-published my first memoir, As Familiar as Family, which broke into the Top 100 on Amazon in the category Abusive Family Relationships. Then, to get back to the magic of writing after the draining process of releasing my first book, I self-published a poetry collection, Reflections from a Former Evangelical, which was the #1 New Release in Religious and Inspirational Poetry. 2023 brought the publication of my second memoir, Becoming Egalitarian: Our Journey from Hierarchy toward Mutuality, which features contributions from my partner Stephen. Becoming Egalitarian was the #6 New Release in Christian Dating & Relationships. My second poetry collection, More Reflections from a Former Evangelical, came out shortly after and climbed to #12 in the category Political and Protest Poetry. I am currently working on a third memoir and poetry collection to complete the two trilogies.
I also knew that theater was calling for me to return, too. Soon after my first book came out, I auditioned with a local theater for “The Dining Room” and was cast. Being back under those bright lights brought the biggest breath of fresh air. A few months later, I joined Main Street Theater where I have been able to continue acting. I also have written numerous plays, two of which have been produced by the company.
Telling my story is helping me heal. I consider all forms of writing and acting to be part of telling my story as I connect with and give voice to previously stifled pieces of myself. I want to support others in doing the same, in telling their story and healing their story, via whatever route(s) they choose. My dear friend and business partner Danielle Bolin brought my vision to life of a “Tell Your Story” merch line that has reminded others to keep owning their truth(s). If publishing a book is part of that journey for someone, I’d love to support them in doing that. I am the Director of Self-Publishing at The Open Book Company, and I also offer personalized services on a case-by-case basis depending on the scope of the project.
As I reflect on the past few years, I think of this quote from Howard Thurman: “Don’t ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive, and go do it. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.” I hold the tension of the great privilege it is for me to chase all that makes me come alive while knowing there are so many people who cannot. In all of the work that I do, I want to help others “come alive.”
We’d love to hear a story of resilience from your journey.
In June 2023, I finalized the first play script I’d ever written. It was titled “I’m Queer” and was (very) loosely inspired by my own coming out experience. When I brought it to that month’s Main Street Theater meeting, I wasn’t sure what the group’s reaction would be, but I was crossing my fingers and toes that it would be unparalleled praise. It was not.
For starters, I’d begun the play with a phone call and had another call halfway through. It was suggested that I remove these. The reasoning was so that I wouldn’t lose the audience’s attention since they couldn’t hear the other end of the conversation. There were also a couple of problem places that were confusing. I was encouraged to edit the script and bring it back.
In the past, I probably would have ghosted the group and never shown my face again since they didn’t offer up only compliments. Instead, because of the journey I’d been on through therapy and building a secure attachment to myself, I incorporated the relevant feedback and completed a rewrite. The second draft included the addition of a roommate for the main character to talk to in place of the phone calls. When the revised script was read the next month, the response was overwhelmingly positive, and a couple of people shared a few slight critiques.
From there, I set up a one-on-one with Terry Roueche, the producer of the Main Street Theater plays. Terry has become a dear friend and mentor to me as a playwright, and his insights helped me strengthen the script. I believe there ended up being a total of four drafts. Due to the supportive and collaborative atmosphere, “I’m Queer” was produced as a staged reading in June 2024, a full circle moment a year later. If I hadn’t persevered, this wouldn’t have happened. I’m grateful for each person who assisted me so that I could lean into resilience.
What’s a lesson you had to unlearn and what’s the backstory?
Growing up in poverty in the rural South, I watched my parents work from before the sun was up until long after it was down. I fully believed the myth that if I hustled hard enough, my labor would surely pay off in the form of wealth beyond my wildest imagination. That’s simply not true, and my parents were proof of that, but I spent over a decade striving for this ever-elusive goal. I could never hustle hard enough, and then I would be harsh with myself for not measuring up. The religious context I was in didn’t help, though the motivation was no longer for earthly riches but rather heavenly ones.
From the pastor I admired in my twenties, I learned to live without limits, or to at least attempt to live without limits. He was always busy, jumping from one activity to the next. He did not prioritize rest or encourage the congregation to rest. My partner once asked the pastor, “How do you do it all?” He responded, “We all can do more than we think we can do.” So, I continually did more. Now, I’ve learned that just because I could be doing more doesn’t mean I should be doing more.
After leaving that church, I briefly attended another church. One Sunday, a visiting preacher delivered the message. She talked about the need for rest as well as the restorative nature of water. I decided to slow (way) down in every area of my life, and I saw how this slower approach to life benefited me creatively. I started going to a local lake on Wednesdays to just look at the water. I don’t do anything but watch the birds and the fish. Simply sitting with the water has improved my mindset. Other things that help with my mindset are daily breathing, meditation, and journaling.
If you’re out there thinking, “What does that have to do with writing or creating art?”, I understand. I can only speak for myself. For me personally, all of those things help me write and create from a place that is peaceful, gentle, mindful, and grounded. Sure, I can crank out material when I’m stressed, harsh, scattered, and untethered, but I don’t want to. I already tried that method, and I no longer want to do that. Even though the dominant cultural narrative may suggest that my approach lends to laziness, that has not been my experience.
I wish I knew who to credit this to, but I read somewhere that we waste years because we won’t waste hours. In the wasting of hours, I have learned that nothing is ever really wasted. Instead of viewing all of those activities as a waste of time, I now view them as essential for having a successful and productive writing time. Further, success and productivity are also experienced differently when I come to the page with a grounded versus a hurried mindset.
Plus, I like the material I create, and the person I am while creating that material, when I operate from gentleness toward myself. I’m more authentic when I’m writing and aligned with who I am and who I want to be. In place of hustling, I am healing, showing up for myself, and being faithful in all that I do, even if it doesn’t result in a book deal, accolades, and wealth (though I’m super not opposed to those outcomes).
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.nickipappas.com/
- Instagram: @broadeningthenarrative
- Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/groups/broadeningthenarrative
- Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/nicki-pappas/
- Twitter: @broadnarrative
- Other: https://www.openbookco.com/
Image Credits
Marla Taviano, Della Freedman, JoBeth Roberts, and Danielle Bolin