Deborah Unger: A Story of Connection, Creation, and Catharsis
playwright and performer
For fifteen years, Deborah Unger carried a story inside her—a story so personal, so deeply entwined with her own emotions and experiences, that it took over a decade to shape it into something more than just a cathartic outpouring. It had to be more than a monologue of frustration; it had to be a theatrical experience. That journey led to The Longer My Mother is Dead, the More I Like Her, part of the solo show series Maiden Mother Crone, running at The Pete at The Flea Theatre from February 12-23.
As a self-proclaimed “rabid storyteller,” Deborah thrives on the shared electricity between performer and audience. Her favorite moments aren’t scripted—they’re the audible gasps, the murmured “uh-huhs,” the unexpected ripples of recognition that tell her she’s struck a universal chord. Her show is about connection, about excavating truths that many may feel but few articulate.
Deborah’s gift for storytelling is rooted in her upbringing. An Army brat, she spent her childhood constantly moving, adapting to new environments, absorbing the language, habits, and perspectives of those around her. Each move was a lesson in observation and empathy, skills that now fuel her ability to craft deeply resonant narratives.
“Today, we would say I’m all about inclusion,” she muses. “Finding commonalities, embracing different voices—that was how I learned to belong.”
Beyond Maiden Mother Crone, Deborah’s creative engine is always running. She’s developing a series about 1980s New York City, inspired by a specific actor she wants to collaborate with, and a limited series on Madalyn Murray O’Hair, the woman who took her fight to remove school prayer all the way to the Supreme Court. And those are just the projects she has time to name—there are always more ideas, always more stories waiting to be told.
The challenge of performing The Longer My Mother is Dead, the More I Like Her isn’t just in the storytelling—it’s in the listening. Unlike traditional theater, where repetition and precision are paramount, her show demands presence, an openness to the audience’s energy, and an ability to shift, moment to moment, in response.
“This isn’t about repetition,” she explains. “This is about sharing a life experience and giving the audience space to see themselves in it. To know they’re not alone in their complicated relationships.”
While writing is often a solitary endeavor, Deborah has cultivated a thriving creative community. Every Thursday, she gathers with fellow writers in the Make It Happen Room, a group that selects a word, explores it through their projects, writes, and then shares. This ritual has strengthened her discipline and reaffirmed the importance of artistic exchange.
She fuels her imagination by immersing herself in art, from theater to television, film, historical sites, and the wealth of experiences that New York offers.
“New York is fabulous for that,” she enthuses. “I go on adventures. I read—a lot. And I talk with other artists.”
That constant engagement with storytelling in all its forms sharpens her own craft, keeping her work alive and ever-evolving.
For those wanting to follow her work, Deborah is active on social media (@deborahunger1 on Twitter, @thedeborahunger on Instagram, and Deborah Unger on Facebook). Her show’s website, deadmomtalking.com, provides more details on Maiden Mother Crone, which also features Sugarcoated, written and performed by Jen Ponton. The two shows explore complex themes of identity, relationships, and the shifting lens through which we view our past.
Performing at The Flea Theatre—a venue with its own rich history, founded by Sigourney Weaver and a group of theatrical visionaries—feels like the perfect home for Maiden Mother Crone. There, in that intimate space, Deborah invites audiences to sit with her, to listen, to laugh, to wince, to recognize themselves in her words. Because at its core, that’s what storytelling is about—making space for connection, one gasp, one knowing “uh-huh,” at a time.
