I love acting. I love it more than I can articulate. I actually just started to tear up writing those words. It’s impossible to overstate what being an actor has meant to me. How it’s saved me again and again. A favorite question in interviews has often been, “If you weren’t an actor, what would you do?” And I always draw a blank. Nothing. There’s nothing else I want to do. Nothing else I can do as well. Nothing else I should be doing. This is it. This is what I do. It’s who I am, right? But when The Sackett Sisters didn’t get picked up, I knew somehow that I was done. Done auditioning. Done trying to convince people they should give me a shot, give me the part, put me on TV, make me the star. Done. DONE.
(Probably.)
Not long after that, my manager got a call from The New Yorker. It turned out they wanted to profile me about my Instagram stories. THE NEW YORKER. I sat down with the reporter, Marisa Meltzer, over lunch while we were in New York shooting Marc and Abby’s movie. I have to admit, I was a little confused. I asked her why she wanted to talk to me. I was worried she was trolling me. But she promised she wasn’t. She explained that she found my stories infinitely watchable and said that every social media platform has an early adopter who defines what it is and how it should be done.
I stared at her. “And you think that’s me??”
She told me the article would be out in a few months and I thanked her, but secretly I was terrified of it. I liked Marisa a lot; she seemed like someone I would be friends with IRL. But I couldn’t help worrying the article would somehow be mean or dismissive or worse, make me sound dumb. I still didn’t really understand what everyone else was seeing and responding to. But as the summer wore on, I began to notice people’s reactions to me in public. I couldn’t not. It was getting overwhelming.
“Oh my God, I LOVE YOU!”
“BUSY!!! HIIIIIIIII!”
“Oh my God, I’m going to die. My best friend and I call ourselves Busy and Michelle!!! Can I PLEASE take a picture with you?!”
“Girl! You are KILLING it. Seriously. Just everything is GOALS.”
Apparently, I was killing it by just being me . . . only online.
Over the summer, I’d gotten an email from Eric Gurian, who works with Tina Fey. He explained that he and Tina and Robert Carlock had been talking, and they were all thinking we should find something else to work on together, maybe even to develop for me. I was flattered, of course, but when I met with Eric back in L.A., I told him the truth. I didn’t know what the fuck I wanted to do, but developing a show sounded potentially painful. Even under the auspices of Tina Fey and Robert Carlock. I’d just been burned too many times at this point. He understood, and as I left the meeting, he said we should keep in touch. “At the very least,” he said, “it seems insane that you’re giving away all this great content for free.”
The article came out and it was so nice. I read it twice in order to make sure I wasn’t missing some hidden snark. I was in disbelief. I didn’t sound stupid at all. In fact, I sounded pretty smart. Me! In THE NEW YORKER!
The following weekend, my manager Julie was having a big birthday party in Palm Springs at the Merv Griffin estate. Marc and I went with the girls and stayed at La Quinta. I love being in the desert because it reminds me of growing up in Scottsdale, but without having to actually be back in Scottsdale. I especially love when the sun sets, turning the mountains purple and the sky pink. The party was super fun, with plenty of wine, and then after dinner and speeches, as everyone else started dancing, Marc and I walked over to sit at the edge of the pool. I got a little stoned as I looked up at the endless desert sky and stars. We sat in silence for a few minutes, just enjoying being together in all that stillness.
Suddenly it hit me.
“Marc,” I said, turning to him. “I know what I’m supposed to do.”
He looked at me, confused. “What? For what? Right now??”
“No! For my career! My life! I’m supposed to be a late-night talk-show host! I’m supposed to be the first woman host of The Tonight Show.”
He laughed. “I think Jimmy Fallon probably has something to say about that.”
“NO!” I said, shaking my head. “Not like tomorrow. But it’s mine. I’m going to do it. I need a late-night show. This is what I’m supposed to do, Marc. I’m telling you. The ghost of Merv Griffin is sending me a sign.”
He put his arm around me and kissed me sweetly on the forehead. “Okay, Buddy. If that’s what you want to do, I’m sure you can do it.”
Of course I can. I’m Busy Philipps. Have we met? I say I’m going to do something, and then I go, and I fucking do it. I wanted to go for a walk around the block when I was two. And I went. I wanted to get out of Arizona. And I did. I wanted to be in TV shows and movies. And I was. I wanted this life. And I got it. And now I wanted a late-night talk show. And here we are. Here I am.
I’ve tried in this book, but I still don’t know exactly how to explain how all this has happened for me. My career. This life. Except to say that I willed it to be so. There are so many times when it could have gone in a different direction. There are more than a few sliding doors in my past. And who’s to say what could’ve been better or worse, what might or might not have been?
All I know for sure is . . .
THIS IS WHO I AM NOW.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I would like to thank all of my friends, both past and present, real-life and internet. My editor, Lauren Spiegel, for knowing instinctually that I had a book in me and not making me try to prove it. My longtime badass agent, Lorrie Bartlett. My new literary agent, Kristyn Keene. Julie Darmody, for knowing I was more than just an actress for hire. Steven Levy, Mark Schulman, and Lorraine Berglund, all of whom have managed me at one time or another (as much as I can be managed). Jennifer E. Smith for her literary guidance. Geoff McFetridge and Autumn de Wilde for elevating my book with their art. Molly Kloss for her design expertise. Coffee Commissary, Go Get Em Tiger, Andante, and Le Pain Quotidien in Los Angeles, California, and Black Tap and Collective Coffee Co in Charleston, South Carolina, for providing good light and strong coffee. My iPhone and earbuds and all the music I listened to. Iliana Tojin for her unwavering love of my family, which allows me to be able to work. Everyone in my family for understanding, even though it’s hard. My daughters for sharing me. Marc, for loving me so completely and wholly—good and bad, better and worse, rich and poor, crazy and sane, chubby and thin, panicked and strong, drunk and sober, in love and out and back again, and for showing the fuck up when he needed to. And Oprah.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Busy Philipps is an actress best known for roles in cult TV classics like Freaks and Geeks, Dawson’s Creek, Cougar Town, ER, and, most recently, HBO’s Vice Principals. She has appeared in fan-favorite films such as Made of Honor, I Don’t Know How She Does It, He’s Just Not That Into You, White Chicks, and The Gift. She also was one of the writers of the hit film Blades of Glory. Busy lives in Los Angeles with her husband and their two daughters.
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Copyright © 2018 by BusyBee Productions, Inc.
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First Touchstone hardcover edition October 2018
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Interior design by Jill Putorti
Endpaper and interior illustrations by Geoff McFetridge
Jacket design by Cherlynne Li and Molly Kloss
Jacket Photographs by Autumn De Wilde
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Philipps, Busy, 1979- author.
Title: This will only hurt a little / Busy Philipps.
Description: First Touchstone hardcover edition. | New York : Touchstone, 2018.
Identifiers: LCCN 2018036731 | ISBN 9781501184710 (hardcover)
Subjects: LCSH: Philipps, Busy, 1979- | Actors—United States—Biography.
Classification: LCC PN2287.P465 A3 2018 | DDC 791.4502/8092 [B] —dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018036731
ISBN: 978-1-5011-8471-0
ISBN: 978-1-5011-8473-4 (ebook)
This Will Only Hurt a Little Page 26
