How Returning to Kentucky (Finally) Allowed Me to Live My Dream
For as long as I can remember, I’ve been fixated on music. It was told to me that I was successfully potty trained using the song “Puff, the Magic Dragon” by Peter, Paul and Mary. A tape exists somewhere of me humming the Jeopardy “think” music when I was as small as could be.
When I was in fourth or fifth grade music class, our teacher played a song for us and invited us to share what we noticed or if we had any questions. I raised my hand and asked, “What’s the low sound?” “That’s the bass!” she said. “That’s a good observation.”
I followed this passion throughout middle and high school, competing in All-State and KMEA choir performances and competitions. Eventually, I applied to both Murray State University and UK’s Schools of Music, was accepted into both, and ultimately chose Murray State. But life had other plans: I attended for only two months before a family matter caused me to drop out and return home to Frankfort.
I was completely and utterly lost after leaving college. What was I going to do if I could no longer follow the path I’d been on my entire life? Who was I and who would I become if not within the world of music? I had been working various jobs that could be honestly described as hellish (think: insurance call center) and was in a relationship with someone who wanted to give comedy an honest shot, so we moved to Chicago in 2013 - just months after I beat cancer. To say I was ready to get away from Kentucky, a place that held so many bad memories, would be an understatement.
It was in Chicago that I began a project management internship, and that same year fell into producing standup comedy shows. Producing was the first time in eight years that something clicked so naturally. Somehow, a thing I had never done before came intuitively to me, and I was nearly immediately successful. From packing out a Chicago venue monthly to touring nationally to opening branches in NYC and LA, I had finally found who else I could be.
We remained in Chicago for about five years, while growing both professionally and personally, until I felt a pull towards Los Angeles. At this point, we had already produced a television pilot and I began taking meetings out in LA. I knew I had to follow that pull. I felt it in my bones.
Liz on set with Ted Levine (“Monk,” “Silence of the Lambs”)
Moving to LA without much money and without a gig secured was quite a risk, but I just knew it’d pan out, and it did. I found work quite quickly and began producing content for Xbox, which was very cool to me as someone who has played video games her whole life. In addition to that work, I knew that in order to succeed in such a large city with a larger pool of competition, I had to stand out and stay busy. Nearly immediately, I began producing several standup comedy shows all over the city, as well as producing comedy shorts and generally growing my network in the comedy industry. I took meetings at Comedy Central, TruTV, and Funny or Die. I began producing short films. And then, the pandemic hit.
By this point, I had moved on from Xbox and found myself producing within the entertainment marketing industry full-time, meaning I was leading the creation of content for television and film campaigns. Standup comedy shows came to a halt and I had decided to no longer continue doing that as it was no longer enjoyable or beneficial to me. What then came were opportunities to produce music videos.
Liz on the set of Open Mike Eagle’s music video for “Bucciarati” (featuring Paul F. Tompkins) with director Demi Adejuiygbe
Fifteen years later, music finally, and surprisingly, began to find its way back to me. Those were my favorite projects to work on by far. It was a marriage between my forever love of music and my newfound skillsets. I’ve had work featured in Rolling Stone, and one music video I produced ranked higher than Harry Styles’ music video for “Watermelon Sugar” in a year-end Best Of list by IndieWire.
This was all fine and good and even exhilarating until I slowly began to realize that, at the end of the day, nothing I was doing had any real meaning. I wasn’t impacting the world. I wasn’t helping anyone. It was fun, sure, but in my heart of hearts, it didn’t feel purposeful. And that began to bother me.
In 2024, while feeling all of this, my dog, who I’d had and loved so dearly for 12 ½ years, passed away on a Monday. Four days later, on Friday, I was laid off from my full-time job.
I had had enough. I no longer felt much for Los Angeles and certainly had already no longer felt anything but disdain for entertainment marketing, so I decided to take a sabbatical and left the country. I went all over, from South Korea to Switzerland, but ended up spending the majority of my time in Scotland. It was there that something so small, so seemingly benign, happened that I believe created a spark within me and ultimately led me home.
I was pet sitting for a couple in a very small village in Scotland. They had a beautiful home that included a piano. I asked if they played. I was told yes, and that there was an in-town women’s community choir, and that they’d happily put me in touch with one of the members who’d let me sit in on one of their rehearsals. I had to. I hadn’t been in a choir setting since 2005, and it was now early 2025… twenty years later. I attended one evening and sat in the back of the room. As I sat down, I truly felt like I was coming back into myself. It was extremely surreal. And it meant everything to me.
That same summer, I came back to the states and endured a hospitalization that turned into one of the hardest and quite frankly worst years of my life. But, it took me home to Kentucky.
I didn’t plan on staying. In fact, I had never planned on returning at all. Again, this place has been home to the bulk of my trauma. I had actually been rearing my head towards New York City as a natural next stop, but, as usual, life had other plans for me.
A Louisville Youth Orchestra meet and greet flier featuring Liz.
I moved to Louisville in April of 2026 after being relatively unsure of where I’d go next, and after several attempts to find full-time work in New York City failed. I was also unsure of what to do next. So, I thought about it. What have I always loved? Music. By what was most certainly fate, I found a job posting for a role with the Louisville Youth Orchestra. I had a couple of interviews and got the job. I cried about it almost every time I even thought about getting the job because it’s honestly my dream come true.
Whether it was media telling me that in order to succeed I had to live in LA or NYC, or my own internal subconscious bias against Kentucky, I thought that moving back meant failure. That I did not in fact accomplish all that I could’ve accomplished. That reaching for the stars meant I had to leave Kentucky. I’m certain there’s a stigma about our state that ended up ingrained in me for quite some time. But I was incredibly surprised to find out that coming back home allowed me to finally get to do the one thing I’ve always wanted to do. Twenty one years later, I found myself where I had always, always wanted to be - a place I never thought I’d get the chance to be, in a place I certainly never envisioned myself coming back to. I thought the opportunity for a life in music had long passed, and that I had accepted not being able to have the life I’d always wanted. But I get to. And I get to do it at home. And home is not New York City or Chicago or Los Angeles, and it doesn’t have to be. I get the immense privilege of working in the arts, in music. To serve young artists, much like versions of myself in the past, and get to be even a small part in their own journeys, as I begin my own new journey as well.
Kentucky is a beautiful state. It doesn’t have to have tall buildings or a Comedy Central headquarters or bodegas on every corner. This place offers just as much as anywhere, and I couldn’t be more proud to bring my experience home and lend what I’ve learned and experienced to the adults of tomorrow. There’s a sprawling arts scene from dance to theater to music and I am so, so excited to be a part of what happens next. And I get to do it right here, in my old Kentucky home.
I’d like to dedicate this piece lovingly to Danny Maupin. Photo credit: Meagan Jordan
