Nate Wise brings I’m Mom to the Edinburgh Fringe, a deeply personal solo show blending comedy, theatre and therapy. The production offers a powerful exploration of grief, memory and connection.
Written and performed by Wise, the show uses innovative techniques to stage conversations left unsaid, creating an intimate and emotionally resonant experience. With moments of both humour and heartbreak, it invites audiences into a story that feels both personal and universal.
I’m Mom runs at Just The Tonic at Subway from 6–30 August (not 18 August) at 16:30. Tickets are available here.
You’re the writer and performer of I’m Mom at Just The Tonic at Subway. What can you tell us about the show?
It’s a live therapy session on stage.
It’s a crash course in acting.
I become my late therapist mother and role-play the conversations we never got to have.
And it’s funny.
The piece draws on your own personal experience of grief and therapy. What led you to turn this story into a live performance?
I’ve had a box of my mother’s journals burning a hole on my shelf for years, and I kept telling myself I was going to turn them into a show.
Finally, in December 2024, I was up for an Off-Broadway play, and when I didn’t get it, I knew exactly what I was going to do: make my own show.
I was so tired of waiting for permission to make art and act.
Also, to me, the best shows feel real and risky. Or maybe I’m just pretentious. Either way, here I am.
You use the ‘empty-chair technique’ on stage. How did you adapt that therapeutic process into something theatrical?
The technique itself was already theatrical, as it’s a role-playing exercise (i.e. acting).
The final piece was putting the therapy in the context of an acting class.
As it turns out, the secret to good acting and genuine healing are the same: “SHARE YOURSELF.”
The show is essentially a character study on my mom. At first, I can’t do the therapy, but as I learn about acting and the power in sharing one’s private world, the therapy takes off and my mom comes to life.
The show balances emotional vulnerability with humour. How do you approach that balance in performance?
In my mind, humour is always first.
My personal creed is, “If I can get you to laugh, then I can get you to listen; if I can get you to listen, then I can get you to trust; and if I can get you to trust, then maybe I can punch you in the stomach with a bit of medicine.”
Also, my entire writing process was fuelled by the fear of making people pay for a show where you’re trapped and I’m just screaming my trauma at you for an hour.
So I made sure not to do that.
What have you discovered about yourself through performing this piece and revisiting such personal material?
I’m shy! Kind of.
I still get embarrassed every time I share my story, but that’s also a part of the ethos of vulnerability that I’m preaching; I need to stop performing and be authentic.
I have to walk the walk to show everyone that there’s power and connection on the other side of authenticity.
The show has also been a nice reminder of how much I’m like my mom.
What would you say to anyone thinking of booking to see I’m Mom?
It’s fun and a kick in the butt.
It’s free at the door.
It’ll make you taller or shorter, depending on what you want.
