Keep Reading
Hey friends, it’s been a minute. I’ve been leaning into my own season of motherhood and taking a little mid-year pause before season four officially kicks off in January 2026. But when this conversation with Leanne Morgan came together, there was no way I could sit on it. You know those stories that remind you […]

Paragraph
Hey friends, it’s been a minute. I’ve been leaning into my own season of motherhood and taking a little mid-year pause before season four officially kicks off in January 2026. But when this conversation with Leanne Morgan came together, there was no way I could sit on it.
You know those stories that remind you it’s never too late? That life doesn’t run on a clock, and sometimes the best things happen after you think the window has closed? Well, today’s episode is one of those.
Leanne Morgan—yes, the Leanne Morgan: comedian, actress, author, and proud Knoxville girl—joined me for a conversation that honestly, I could only dream would actually happen because I’m a total fangirl. Her story is one of ambition that never burned out, even when the timing didn’t look typical. From selling jewelry in living rooms with babies underfoot, to performing stand-up on a 150-city tour, to starring in her own Netflix sitcom at 60—Leanne is proof that big dreams can wait their turn and still come true.
In this episode, she talks about what success looked like in the early days with little kids at home, the moment she almost quit, and the brave decision to invest in herself in her fifties that changed everything. So if you’ve ever wondered whether your dream has an expiration date, take it from Leanne: it doesn’t.
Let’s dive in.
In this interview:

I’m Leanne Morgan, and I’m a professional comedian, actress, and author — which I still can’t even believe I get to say. I was raised in Middle Tennessee in a farm community of about 500 people. I had a dream from the time I was nine or ten that I was going to Hollywood, and now at 60, here I am.
I’ve raised three children, I’ve got two grandbabies, and somehow I’ve become one of the top touring comedians in the world. I’ve even got a television sitcom. It’s crazy.
I raised my family in Knoxville, Tennessee, which I think is one of the sweetest places on earth, and it has been a wild and wonderful ride.
We lived in Bean Station and Morristown, Tennessee up in East Tennessee, and I had three children. I got my degree at the University of Tennessee, but then I got married, had my first baby, Charlie, and I wanted to stay home with him and nurse. Chuck moved me to this very obscure area in East Tennessee, in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains. And I look back on it now and know it was a God thing.
All through college, I had this dream — I wanted to go to Hollywood. I knew I wanted to go to college, but I also kept thinking, I’m gonna go to Hollywood, I just didn’t know how. It never dawned on me to just hop in a car at 18 and drive out there. So instead, he moved me to the middle of nowhere. And I felt very isolated. I’m a people person. I need friends, I need to be with people.
One of my girlfriends was selling jewelry, like women used to sell Mary Kay and Tupperware, and she said, “I think you could do this, Leanne. You’d be good at it. And you could make a little money and stay home with Charlie.” So I started doing that, just as a fluke, and it turned into this little comedy club in living rooms. The company noticed and asked me to start speaking at their big events. So I started doing comedy, calling myself a stand-up in East Tennessee, where there were no comedy clubs at the time.
I look back and laugh. I would drop a baby off at Mom’s Day Out, go make $50 at the Rotary Club, and I thought of myself as a comedian. Then Chuck Morgan sold his business, went to work for a large manufactured-home company, and moved us to San Antonio, Texas. My kids were three, five, and seven.
That’s when I finally had a comedy club in my town. I used to drive back and forth to Nashville a little when we were in East Tennessee, but that wasn’t realistic with three babies. In San Antonio, I did one open mic at a comedy club, just one, and they started moving me up. That’s when I really considered myself in the business. That’s when I said, “Okay, I’m a stand-up.”
I always thought I’d make it to Hollywood. I knew I could tell a story, and I knew I was funny. My teachers knew it too — and on the basketball team, I was the one off to the side, not paying attention, telling stories.
I always loved stand-up. The people I admired on television were stand-ups who had sitcoms. But I also loved Saturday Night Live, Carol Burnett, Lucille Ball — all of those kinds of people. I just knew deep down that’s what I was going to do someday.
But being a mom in East Tennessee, in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains, it was hard to even frame that dream. Still, once I finally got into the clubs, I knew I belonged. I really did. I never wavered (not until my early fifties, anyway, when I had just a little doubt).
But from the time my kids were three, five, and seven — even back when I was still selling jewelry — I believed it.
Okay, so when I was selling jewelry, I ended up stopping when I got pregnant with my third one, because, honey, I couldn’t be slinging all that jewelry around people’s houses with three little babies.
And let me just say to all you little mamas out there — I don’t know how y’all are doing it. I don’t know how people are running accounting firms and birthing babies and doing all the things. I did not have it that hard, I’ll tell you that. Chuck Morgan has always been an overachiever — driven, type A — and because of that, I was lucky. I could pick and choose what I wanted to do. I didn’t have to get out and get a full-time job. I could supplement our income if I wanted, but I didn’t have that pressure.
So, yes, I had this dream pushing me emotionally, but I didn’t have to go through those horrible gigs most comedians do — driving 300 miles, sleeping in your car, making $50. I skipped a lot of that hard stuff.
The baby who’s asleep in the other room right now — that’s my makeup artist. She was 18 months old when I drove to Nashville to Zanies and opened for Billy Gardell. That was the first time I ever stepped on a real comedy club stage. Billy, of course, went on to star in Mike and Molly and all that.
Brian Dorfman, who owns Zanies — he’s now my concert promoter with Outback in Nashville and runs my 150- to 200-city tours — he took me into his office that day. Tess was 18 months old; I had just quit nursing her. I had three little kids at home. He said, “Leanne, I think you’ve got something. I think you’ve really got it.”
Now, Brian is one of the most successful comedy club owners and promoters in the world, but he looked at me and said, “You cannot do this with three little children. The traditional comedy club route — women can’t do this and raise three kids.”
And I remember thinking, That made me so mad. I thought, I’ll show him. I’ll figure out a way.
But looking back now — he was right. For me to raise my own children, the traditional comedy club path wasn’t the life I needed. I couldn’t have done it. By that point, Chuck was traveling every week as an executive, and I was the main caregiver and I wanted to be. I loved being a mama. That was my first job.
So it all worked out for the best. I just had to figure out a different way to do comedy. One that wasn’t the traditional route. I had to cut my own path. And because of that, I’ve had a completely different journey than your typical Dave Chappelle or Chris Rock story.
When Brian Dorfman told me that, I was so angry. I thought, I’ll show him. I’m going to do what I want to do. And now, bless him, he’s crazy about me!
I still had that ambition. I was still going, still hustling — driving at night to clubs in Austin and San Antonio, doing a set, and then getting up at 6:00 a.m. with the kids to get them ready for school. I had it in my mind that I was going to prove him wrong.
But the way God planned it all out was so much more perfect than anything I could have imagined.
So there I was, doing my thing, when Chuck got promoted and we moved back to Knoxville, to the corporate office. And, honey, that’s when I got asked to join a tour with three women called The Southern Fried Chicks. They were much more experienced than I was, I was kind of the opener, but I got to go on a theater tour with them.
And here’s the beautiful part: it was on weekends. I could drop the kids off at school, pick them up, and still go do the shows. I rarely missed anything. I think in all those years, maybe I missed one birthday — and it about killed me.
I also missed International Day at CAK — the Christian Academy of Knoxville — when they were dressed up like little Greek people, dancing. I still wake up at three o’clock in the morning feeling guilty about it! I’ll call them the next day and say, “I’m so sorry I missed Greek International Day,” and they’ll say, “Mom, we’re fine.”
All through those years, I got a lot of no’s. Show business is full of heartbreak. It’s not like becoming an accountant: you go to school, you pass your exams, and you’re an accountant. Or you go to medical school, you become a doctor. You get your teaching degree, you become a teacher.
In this business, you don’t know what’s going to happen. It’s up and down. It’s a lot of heartbreak. But nothing ever made me feel like I couldn’t keep going. I always felt like God was opening doors, even when things didn’t go the way I hoped.
I had four television deals before this sitcom finally made it — since my children were little. Big ones too — with ABC, Warner Brothers, all of them. And they didn’t happen. I’d get down about it, but I never felt like I had to stop.
Every little thing, even when it didn’t work out, I took as a message from God: Keep going. I’d tell myself, “Hollywood wants me — maybe not right now, but Hollywood wants me. I’ve still got it.”
And sometimes I’d laugh and think, Maybe I’m crazy. Maybe I’m like one of those kids on American Idol who thinks they can sing.
When I did the movie Your Place or Mine with Reese Witherspoon, she stood next to me every day and said, “Leanne, you got to raise your own children.” She’s done a lot of movies since, and she’s been a single mom. She told me, “That’s the greatest thing that ever happened to you.”
And I have people in Hollywood tell me that all the time — that I got to raise my own children.
Now, success feels different. I miss my kids, but I try to be present. I’m a grandmother now, and part of me thinks I should be home in the country making pinto beans and tending to babies. But their daddy says, “Mama, they need your money more than they need your pinto beans!”
So, success now… it’s mind-blowing. I always believed it would happen — I just never imagined it would be this big, or this wonderful, or this crazy.
The money’s nice, but honestly, I never even thought about that part. I’ve always just been a performer, an artist, driven by that desire to keep going. I never dreamed of all this.
And the sweetest part is that my children are grown now. They don’t need me the same way, but I can still parent them. Adult parenting is different, but it’s still beautiful. They’re all with me now. They come to the shows, they get to see it all. It’s crazy — and it’s wonderful.
In my early fifties, things really weren’t going well. I had a special come out on Dry Bar — that’s a clean comedy platform — and we honestly thought nobody would ever see it. Well, it ended up getting over 50 million views. I gained a lot of fans from that, but I still wasn’t getting the kind of work I wanted.
It was a grind. I was exhausted. I was working all the time, but they were terrible gigs — little shows, not the kind that fill your soul. And I told Chuck Morgan, “I don’t think I can keep going. I don’t think this is going to work anymore.” That was the first time in all those years that I ever had doubt.
I said, “I think I’m going to open a hardware store in Knoxville and have a cheese wheel.” And he said, “You’ve lost your mind.”
Then I said, “Okay, well, I’m going to start taking this seriously.” And this might sound crazy to a businessperson, but all those years, I really wasn’t a good businesswoman. I think I kind of am now, but back then I was in the trenches — raising kids, making sure uniforms were pressed, lunches packed — I wasn’t thinking about the business part of it.
Chuck would get mad and say, “You didn’t save for your taxes!” We had a huge fight every tax season — and he was right. I made money pretty consistently over the years, but when I did, I’d spend it on haircuts and uniforms. That was kind of our unspoken deal — I’d handle the little things, and he’d handle the big things.
Because of that, I had never really invested in my career, and that was a mistake. I think I had maybe two or three headshots in 25 years. I wasn’t doing all the professional things I should have.
Now, I was good at networking — at building relationships with people who are still helping me today — but I didn’t invest in myself the way I needed to.
So there I was, in my early fifties, sitting at Cassie’s restaurant over a Caesar salad, crying to Chuck Morgan. And I said, “Okay. I’m going to invest in myself.”
I’d been watching Jim Gaffigan, I’m a huge fan, and my friend Nate Bargatze, who’s about a year and a half ahead of me. I saw how they were using social media. Nobody was watching TV or reading the paper or listening to the radio anymore. I said to my manager at the time, “I think I need social media people. That’s going to be the new thing.”
He said, “You can’t afford it. I don’t think you should do it.”
I did it anyway.
I hired these two young guys who got me — they understood my voice. They were raised by Christian mamas, and I really believe that was a God thing. Their company’s called Honest Fox. I told them, “I’ll give you three months. If nothing happens, that’ll be my sign from God to bow out gracefully.”
It was a lot of money for me to spend, but I thought, Let’s just see what happens.
I wish I’d journaled it — it was crazy. I was in Manhattan moving my youngest into college, and I swear it felt like God said, Alright girl, buckle up. You got the baby settled — now let’s go.
They put out a couple of videos, and one of them went viral. I could literally watch the views climb, thousands and thousands, while we were unpacking her dorm room. I went from not being able to sell a ticket to selling out shows all over the United States overnight.
That was in my early fifties. Now I’m 60.
That was right before COVID — about a year before. I started selling out everywhere, got my first tour, then COVID hit, and I had to wait to do it. But once it was over, everything just exploded.
I got my first Netflix special, then a second one coming out soon. I got a sitcom with Chuck Lorre on Netflix. I did a movie. Wrote a book. I presented at the Emmys! I can’t even keep up with everything that’s happening. It’s just crazy.
It’s wonderful — it’s a dream.
Honey, let me tell you this — my baby girl, she’s with me all the time. She’s a professional makeup artist, and she’s my makeup artist on my series. She lived with me in L.A. and actually saw it all happening.
Everybody else was still in Knoxville. They knew things were taking off, but it was hard for my family to really take in the fame. If I go to a UT ball game now, it’s hard for me to get through a crowd. My agents told Chuck, “She needs a security guard.” And he said, “Oh good Lord, no she doesn’t — I’ll get her through.” Then he’d take off, and I’d see the top of his head about 50 yards ahead of me while I’m back there trying to fend off a middle-aged woman trying to kiss me in the mouth!
But this baby, she knew. She saw it all. She tells everybody she’s my caregiver, my makeup artist, and my security guard.
Even now, at every new stage, my family’s still like, “Wait, what? You’re going to go do what?” They’re all in Knoxville, working regular jobs, and it’s hard for them to wrap their heads around this life.
One of my close friends, a famous comedian, told me his therapist said, “It takes a while for your family to catch up with what’s happening.” And that’s true. They just don’t understand it right away.
So every phase, every new thing, I still find myself saying to Chuck Morgan, “Yeah, I’m going to go do such-and-such with so-and-so,” and they’re like, “What?!”
It’s all crazy. It’s just not a normal job. It’s not a normal life — but it’s a wonderful one.
Yeah, I miss being at home — cooking, having everybody over. I’m a mama and a grandmama, and I was raised by a precious mama who taught me that family is everything. It’s really hard for me to be away from them.
Filming that show out in L.A. was daunting. I missed my family so much. I know they’re proud of me, and everyone’s been so sweet and supportive about what’s going on, but when I am home, I make it a priority to be truly present.
I want to go to the grocery store, pick out something to cook, have all these babies over and that’s what fills me up. I do wish I had more time at home, but we’ll just see how long this Netflix series runs.
I love being at home, but I also love working. I love being on the road. I love my fans, they’re just precious. I hope I get to do more movies because I enjoy all of it.
But it’s hard. It’s a balance. You have to balance it all, especially now, with elderly parents who need me, too. I have guilt about that. Hopefully they’ll move into my house in Knoxville, but that kind of stuff’s hard for me
Well, now that I’m at this level, I’ve got a team of about 25 people, I sometimes forget that I’m the CEO.
When you’re a stand-up comedian, you’re kind of this weird little entertainment person over in the corner that everyone ignores — we’re the throwaways. And after 25 years of grinding it out, getting told “no” a million times, when you finally start getting “yeses,” your instinct is to say yes to everything. You think, I’ve got to do it all.
But I’ve finally reached a point where I can say no.
Reese Witherspoon said to me the other day, “Leanne, you’re going to get asked to do a lot of things — by friends, by famous people — and you have to learn to say no.”
Reba McEntire, bless her, wanted me to come out to L.A. and do something special for her — she was being honored, and they wanted me to introduce her. Normally, I would’ve said, “Well, I’ll figure out a way.” But I just couldn’t do it. The schedule didn’t allow it. And that kind of thing used to tear me up inside.
Now I’ve learned: I have to say no. I’ve got boundaries. I’m taking off these two months to be with my family — everybody leave me alone!
And I’ve realized I have every right to do that. My grandbabies are two and four years old, and I want to be with them.
I feel like I’m getting stronger in that area, being able to say, “No, I’m not doing that.” And I’m lucky to be at a level now where I can turn things down. I don’t have to do everything.
I just turned down a movie, and honestly, it didn’t even bother me. Normally I would’ve said, “I’ve got to do that movie — I have to!” But now I’m like, “You know what? If I don’t want to do it, I’m not going to. I want that time with my family.”
And let me tell y’all something, you know this because you’re in the middle of it with little ones, life goes by so fast.
I tell my kids — they’re 32, 29, and 27 — and I just turned 60: Life is short. Hug, kiss, squeeze those babies. Take them to the zoo. Pull them out of school and go on vacation. Go dig in the sand.
Have a ball because you turn around, and it’s gone.
Look at me — I’m 60 years old, and they call it a “25-year overnight success.” I’ve been working for 25 years to get here.
And honestly, I feel wiser, smarter, sharper than I’ve ever been. I wanted all this to happen so badly — those television deals that never made it used to break my heart. When I couldn’t get booked or went through dry seasons, when I didn’t get invited to the Montreal Comedy Festival — all of that used to sting.
But now, looking back, I think, Oh my gosh — I’m better. I’m better at my craft. It took me 25 years to become who I am and to be ready for this.
Women say to me all the time, “I just feel like it’s over at 40,” or “Nobody’s going to want me anymore.” Honey, we are the best we’ve ever been. It gets better and better as you age.
What I’m trying to tell you is: you’ve got time. You really do. I know 60 sounds old to some of y’all, but honey, I feel good. I’ve got people designing dresses for me! I’m not some little grandma in a house dress with a foam curl in my hair, killing a chicken and frying it up in the kitchen.
Things are great.
And look around, everyone my age is thriving. Dr. Mary Claire Haver — I was just on her podcast. Amy Poehler’s in her fifties. Laura Dern. Gwyneth Paltrow. All these incredible women are doing big things.
I went to the G9 Summit — you’d love it, you’re a businessperson — it’s run by Amy Griffin, and it brings together powerhouse women who are funding and building companies. It’s inspiring.
It just keeps getting better. It doesn’t end at 40. It doesn’t end at 50. It doesn’t end at 60. You’ve got time.
So enjoy those babies. Don’t wear yourself out. You’re doing great — all of you. Just take your time. It’s not going to kill you to slow down a little.
You just get in that bed with those babies, nurse, watch cartoons, honey — go to the zoo. I’m a firm believer in that. I look back on it now, and I’ve got three darling, fun kids, and they want to be with me, and I want to be with them. We had such a good time.
I got my degree in Child and Family Studies. I wanted to be a family therapist if Hollywood didn’t work out. And when I look back, sure, there are plenty of things I did wrong — but the one thing I did right was that I enjoyed those children.
And I had the privilege of Chuck Morgan taking care of us financially. I want to say that. We lived below our means. I didn’t need a big house or fancy stuff. We were on a budget, and that allowed me to stay home and be with my babies. I wouldn’t trade that for anything. We had a ball.
Now, my kids want to be with me, and I want to be with them. Life is supposed to be fun — you’re supposed to laugh. Chuck Morgan always says, “You don’t take anything seriously.”
I’d say to all the young moms listening — y’all are working, grinding, doing it all — if I were in Knoxville, I’d wash all your clothes, make a casserole, and help with your babies. I would! I’d be y’all’s Meemaw.
But listen — don’t put so much pressure on yourself. Have a good time. Stop and smell the roses. You’re doing great. There’s plenty of time. So much time. It does not end.
This tour I’m wrapping up right now is called the Just Getting Started Tour. And I named it that because, even in my late fifties, I felt like I was just getting started. And honestly, I still do.
There’s more opportunity coming to me now than ever before. So enjoy your life. Don’t worry about picking up all the toys. Everything doesn’t have to be perfect.
Have pancakes for dinner. Laugh. Have fun.
But also — follow your dreams. Do what you feel in your heart God’s calling you to do.
You would not believe how easily I get influenced on Instagram. If you knew how many different kinds of sleep aids, magnesium supplements, and gut-health gummies I’ve ordered — Lord help me.
My assistant could tell you — she probably goes home and tells her husband at night, “Something’s wrong with her. You wouldn’t believe how much comes in the mail.” I get so influenced by health hacks. Every time I see one, I think, “Well, maybe this’ll be the thing that changes my life!”
I wish I had realized how confident I really was. Maybe that sounds like a regret — or a do-over — but honestly, I just didn’t know what I had back then.
I wish I’d been more sure of myself. I was confident in a lot of ways, but not in the ways that mattered most. I look back now and think — why did I waste so much time worrying about things that didn’t matter?
Can I just say this? Wear the bikini. Wear the bathing suit. Go to the pool.
I remember not wanting my picture taken when I was pregnant, or after having a baby, or avoiding the swimsuit because I was putting my body down. But, my goodness — my body has been good to me. It carried babies. It breastfed. It showed up for me every day.
I wish I hadn’t sat around worrying about a bunch of nonsense that just doesn’t matter.
Now I look back and think — it really doesn’t matter. Wear the bathing suit. Have a good time. Take care of yourself.
It sounds crazy, but I’ve had so many pinch-me moments lately.
Getting to do a movie with Reese Witherspoon and Will Ferrell — that was unbelievable. Getting my own multi-cam sitcom on Netflix? Unreal.
But honestly, my first Netflix special was the pinch-me moment. That changed my life. Because when you get that first Netflix special, that’s the stamp. That’s international. That’s Dave Chappelle territory — the biggest and the best. It changed everything for me.
Being on The Today Show with Jenna. I’ve always loved The Today Show, and being there was surreal. And I’m about to do it again — I’ll be hosting with her for three days at the end of October.
Then there’s Jimmy Fallon — I mean, it’s just been one crazy, wonderful thing after another.
I have to stop and try to soak it all in — but it’s hard. It still feels surreal.
Let me tell you this, though. I did start doing something for myself — well, for me and my children. Joan Rivers’ daughter, Melissa Rivers, interviewed me once, and she said, “Leanne, do this for your children and for yourself. Every time something big happens, buy a piece of fine jewelry and have it engraved with what happened that day.”
She told me her mama, Joan Rivers, did that for everything. When she got The Tonight Show, when she made a big move, whatever it was — she’d get a piece of jewelry engraved, and later, Melissa and her child inherited all of it. Each piece told part of her story.
So now, I’m trying to do that too — for every milestone: the Netflix special, the movie, the sitcom. One day, my kids will have those pieces and know exactly what they represent.
But yes, it’s hard to take it all in. I feel incredibly thankful. I pray about it all the time. I always thank God for everything I get to do — because He did it. He’s doing it. I didn’t do it.
When I look back, I can see how perfectly the path was laid out. Even in the seasons when I couldn’t get booked, when nobody cared, when it was rejection after rejection… He had a plan. And it was perfect. It all worked out perfectly.
I swear, a long time ago when I first got started, one of the best pieces of advice I ever got in the comedy business was this: “Work clean, Leanne. If you work clean, you can work anywhere.”
And honestly, I would’ve been clean anyway — I was a little mama. I didn’t want to say anything onstage that I wouldn’t want my kids to repeat.
But I’ve always thought that was some of the best advice I’ve ever gotten. In this business, if I’d gone the other way — if I were nasty or crude — I’d probably just be stuck in some club somewhere.
Working clean has opened so many doors. It’s made it possible for me to be on television, to tour the way I do, and to have all the opportunities I’ve been blessed with.
Well, I’ll tell you, it was just a fluke that I even told it, and it ended up changing my life.
I was out on the road with one of my best friends in comedy, Karen Mills. We’ve been traveling together on and off since 2004. We were in The Southern Fried Chicks together back in the day. Fast forward to just before everything blew up for me — little Kate, that’s what I call her — she worked like a mule to get us booked anywhere and everywhere.
She managed to get us a show at The Walker Theatre in Chattanooga — it seats about 800. It was me, Karen, and another comic, Trish Suhr. I don’t even know how many tickets we sold — maybe half, if that — but I was tickled to be there.
So we were about to do that show, and I had just taken Chuck Morgan to see Def Leppard and Journey at Thompson-Boling Arena because he loves them. I got him tickets for that. And that night in Chattanooga, I just told that story — completely off the cuff, for the first time ever.
Karen had hired this guy to film us: we all chipped in $400 total. And there I was, just talking out of my head. It wasn’t a bit I’d written or rehearsed. Normally, a bit takes a year or so to really work out (to tighten the timing, find the rhythm). Like my cheerleading bit about Tess doing competition cheer when she was 11 or 12, that one took me two or three years to polish.
But this? This was the first time I ever told it. I was just rambling and that ended up being the video those boys put online later.
And now, looking back, I get it. It resonated because everyone’s been there. Everyone goes to these concerts now where all the old bands are back together, and let’s be honest, everybody looks old. Everybody looks sick. People have plantar fasciitis, nobody wants to stand, everyone’s more worried about the snack bar than the encore!
And when I said, “When I went to concerts in my twenties, I didn’t care about eating — I’d have half a can of tuna and say, ‘I’m full.’ My thyroid was functioning!” — people got it.
That joke just hit. It got shared over and over and over.
So yeah, that was the fluke. A story I didn’t even think twice about, told on a random night in Chattanooga in a too-tight dress. And that’s the one that changed everything.
I was just talking to Tess about this because she’s with me all the time. After this interview, we’ll get off here and she’s got to pick up some medicine at Walgreens. And then, sure as the world, we’ll end up finding a TJ Maxx or a grocery store somewhere in town.
I’ve got this weird thing — I love a grocery store.
Yesterday, we got off a plane and I was craving a Dr Pepper Cherry Zero. Now, I don’t want everybody to get hooked on those, but let me tell you, it’s the best thing you’ll ever drink. And I’m not even a cherry Coke kind of person! You can’t find them everywhere, so I said, “Let’s just see if that Walmart by the airport has ‘em.”
We went in there, and honey, I had a ball. Nobody was there. I just wandered the aisles, looking at taco seasoning. I’ve got a thing about grocery stores, grocery store items, or a TJ Maxx, just walking around looking at old makeup that’s probably expired. It’s so soothing to me.
So when we’re out on the road, we go to all these towns, and yeah, I get recognized a lot now. But if I find some little obscure spot where nobody knows me, I can just relax and enjoy it.
Even though I love my fans, I’d kiss every one of ‘em right on the mouth if I could, it’s still fun to just stroll through a grocery store or a TJ Maxx and look at stuff.
My next Netflix special, my second one, comes out November 4th. It’s called Unspeakable Things. I’m wrapping up this 150-city tour with shows in Boston and Philadelphia, then heading to New York.
I’ll be on The Kelly Clarkson Show on Halloween, I don’t even know what I’m dressing up as yet, but they’re going to put makeup on me and we’ll see what happens! After that, I’ll do my press run, then back on with Mark and Kelly. They are both just stunning.
Then I’ll do Jimmy Fallon, a full press junket for the Netflix special, and maybe even the CMAs or some other award shows.
But here’s the part I’m most excited about… I’m supposed to have all of November and December off. I plan on being home in a house dress, cooking pinto beans and cornbread, and getting all these clothes washed for my babies.
My kids are actually moving in with me for a couple of weeks while their house is being renovated — and, honey, I am on fire. I just ordered a table from Home Depot, one of those little kid tables you can wipe down, so they can color, paint pumpkins, and make a mess. We’re going to blow it out.
And then in January, I move back to L.A. to start filming the Netflix series Leanne. I’ll be there from January through April, and then I’ll hit the road again.
I’ve already signed another 200-city tour, so next year, we’re doing it all over again.
I’d say, “Girl, you were right. You weren’t crazy. You weren’t one of those kids on American Idol who thinks they can sing.
Buckle up, honey — buckle up for the ride of your life.
It’s all going to work out.”
That’s what I’d say to her.
📌 RESOURCES MENTIONED:

Leanne Morgan rose to prominence with her debut Netflix special “I’m Every Woman,” showcasing her relatable humor and Southern charm. With a career spanning 25 years, she has built a devoted following that continues to grow.
During the first six months of her “Just Getting Started” tour, Morgan sold over 100,000 tickets at prestigious venues such as the Chicago Theatre and the Knoxville Civic Coliseum in her native Tennessee. Her transition from intimate comedy clubs to larger arenas came after the resounding success of her special, affirming her status as a comedic powerhouse.
Hailing from rural Tennessee, Morgan’s comedic style resonates with audiences of all backgrounds, as she effortlessly weaves together humorous anecdotes about family life and everyday absurdities. Her ability to find humor in the mundane has endeared her to fans across the globe.
Leanne’s debut book, “What in the World?!”, released in September 2024 and published by Random House/Convergent, quickly became a New York Times Best Seller. Fans can enjoy her signature blend of humor and warmth that has made her work so beloved.
In a significant career milestone, Morgan fulfilled a lifelong dream of starring in her own sitcom alongside acclaimed producer Chuck Lorre for Netflix, a collaboration that further solidified her place in the entertainment industry. The sitcom, titled “Leanne” is set to be released Summer of 2025.
Recognized as one of Variety’s Top 10 Comics to Watch for 2023, Morgan continues to expand her horizons, with a prominent role in the Amazon Prime feature “You’re Cordially Invited,” where she shares the screen with Will Ferrell and Reese Witherspoon.
Despite her busy schedule, Morgan remains grounded, cherishing precious moments with her husband, three children, grandbabies, and beloved beagle in Knoxville, Tennessee.
November 6, 2025
Previous Post:
Next Post:
And if you found this helpful, share with your friends!