Taylor Tomlinson on the Messy Demise of Her Late Night Career (Exclusive Excerpt)

My health improved during season two, but my immune system was still fragile in a way it had never been before, still reeling from the supermassive hit it had taken. I was a full-blown germaphobe now and still came down with anything that was going around. Every time I got sick, I panicked; I was going to let everyone down. People only liked me for what I could do. If I couldn’t work, I was worthless. If I didn’t perform, I was alone.

But who was actually telling me that? Not my family; they wanted me to slow down. Not my friends, who shook their heads at my schedule, wide-eyed and overwhelmed at the thought of doing it themselves. Even my managers and agents — the people who would stereotypically be pushing their clients to the brink of exhaustion — would consider me warily in meetings about adding shows: “Are you sure? Because that is a lot.”

I had no one to blame but myself. I was the insatiable pit seeking validation, taking a full-time TV job on weekdays and chasing myself onto cross-country flights every weekend. I was the one not taking care of me, not valuing myself enough to rest.

I realized this wasn’t just a bad year, a tough moment, a difficult chapter. It was the inevitable result of a decade of over-working myself. My ambition and my body had been at war for years, and it was finally coming to a head. My body slammed on the brakes, and I flew over the handlebars. Only when I found myself in a crumpled heap, head bleeding, limbs twisted and turned, did I accept it. I needed a break.

Quitting the show was one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever made. Nearly two hundred people worked on After Midnight, and my leaving could jeopardize a job they loved. I almost stayed for that reason alone.

I told two of our executive producers first. I came into the meeting armed with a carefully rehearsed speech full of good reasons for going, lots of gratitude, and a list of comedians I thought would be great at my job. I wanted more than anything for CBS to renew the show and just replace me as host. After all, wasn’t that the benefit of having a format-driven show? A new host is not a novel idea. After Midnight was originated by Chris Hardwick before me. The Daily Show has bounced from Craig Kilborn to Jon Stewart to Trevor Noah to various hosts and Jon Stewart again. Anybody could step in and take the reins of After Midnight.

The meeting went well, and I was relieved. I told them I was more than willing to do whatever needed to be done to keep the show going with someone else. I would talk to CBS, do press to help smooth the transition, call potential hosts and tell them how great the gig was. The producers assured me they would talk it over and come up with a plan. We all wanted the same thing. And we weren’t picked up yet, so we had time.

A few hours later, I got a string of texts.

We just got word from CBS they are picking up the show

So we told Stephen

He is calling you

The timing is insane

I spent that call with Stephen (Mr. Colbert? Not sure how to address him now) crying and apologizing before I got off the phone, shaking with shame. I felt awful and guilty and yet again — disappointing.

I understood why he was upset. He had told me to call him if I ever needed to talk about anything, and I had not called him about this. I wasn’t trying to blindside him; I was just afraid to bother someone so important and busy. I know he meant it when he told me to reach out. It must have been infuriating and confusing, watching someone you believed in, someone you had hired for what is, objectively, a dream job, throw it away. Nobody just walks away from a television show.

The feedback I got most was “I wish you had talked to me first.” Everyone felt as though I hadn’t given them a chance to change things at the show, I had just decided. And for a group of people who pride themselves on problem-solving for a living, this felt unfair. I understood that too. But I did give it a chance. I hosted one hundred episodes and, in that time, I had gently pitched a handful of adjustments that could have made it easier for me to stay at the show long-term.

When I was sick, I suggested finding someone who could step in and host the show if I needed to call out. I was told CBS would just play a rerun and the crew would lose a day’s work. I thought maybe I just needed to get to a second season before I pitched something like that. Season two came, and I suggested the idea of a guest host again. I was told that CBS would never go for it. So, regardless of my health, I never missed a day. In this business, a difficult, entitled woman is the worst thing you can be. I wasn’t going to give anyone the firewood to burn me at the stake.

CBS decided not to renew the show. They would have, they said, but now that they knew I was leaving, they wouldn’t. It was my worst nightmare.

I still feel guilty. I know I couldn’t have kept hosting and been okay. My physical and mental health would have only deteriorated further. But knowing that doesn’t make it easier. What’s that quote — “You can’t set yourself on fire to keep others warm”? Some days this comforts me. Others I think, You should have gone up in flames, you selfish bitch.

Excerpted from ACTUALLY, NEVERMIND by Taylor Tomlinson. Copyright © 2026 Reprinted by permission of Gallery Books, an Imprint of Simon & Schuster, LLC. For more from Tomlinson, see THR‘s Q&A with her here.