Goals 2016

Last year, I posted a list of my artistic goals for 2015 in the hopes that writing them down would help me achieve them. I did about half of them. I played my guitar out in public (at a gig, not an open mic), I performed in more than three shows that were not projects of my own making, and I landed a couple of roles that got me noticed by critics. I did not make my acting or voice over demo reels, and I haven't finished a play's worth of Stop Hating Shakespeare episodes yet, but you know what? That's okay. My priorities changed a bit as the year went along and that is fine. 

I liked having some defined artistic goals for the year, though, so I'm going to post a few more that I'd like to focus on in 2016.

1. Finish two plays worth of Stop Hating Shakespeare episodes. I've started one play and am having fun with it, so I'd like to finish this play's worth by February or March. Which should leave me plenty of time to tackle a second play next year, too. 

2. Perform in at least three shows that are not my own projects. I like this goal and want to recycle it from last year to remind myself to keep trying. If we're getting fancy, I'd like at least one to be contemporary and one to be Shakespeare.

3. Sing at an audition. I don't know that I'm ready to audition for musicals just yet, but it wouldn't hurt to prepare for it and then give it a shot. 

4. Learn to play the accordion. Perhaps even take some lessons in order to do so. 

5. Learn to play "To Take You Home" on the guitar. It is one of my favorite Frank Turner songs, the tabs are online, it's just a bit more complicated than I'm used to. I would like to instill in me the discipline to tackle something challenging like that and master it. 

6. Get cast in an off-Broadway show. I'm ready for this. Just have to figure out how to make it happen. 

Those are good for now. A couple of simpler ones that are totally in my control, a couple more challenging ones that will make me get out there in front of others. And if I can do all of them, a pretty artistically fulfilling year.

Happy (almost) 2016, everybody. Here's to crossing all of our goals off of our lists!

December 21 - Processing

It occurred to me when I got home after closing night last night that this is the first I've had a chance to really process everything that has happened to me in the last four months. I left everything, started a new life, got a new job, was cast in three back-to-back shows, made new friends, found a new home. That's a lot. And it requires some processing time, which is sort of what I'm doing today, and it is why I have no plans to leave my apartment today. 

I want to say a very big, very heartfelt thank you to the New York theatre community for welcoming me so completely. In the past three months, I have been so fortunate to work with three amazing directors, two lovely assistant directors, seven incredible producers, twenty-nine phenomenal actors, three brilliant stage managers, and I don't even know how many amazing designers. I've built relationships with people I hope to know for a very long time and who I am excited to work with again in the future. And what's more, they want to work with me, too. I was so scared when I moved to New York that I would not be able to do theatre, that the move to pursue my dream would be in vain. Not only was I allowed to do theatre, I was encouraged and my art embraced. No matter what else happens during my time in New York, I can count this experiment a success, in large part owing to the generosity and faith of the people mentioned above. Thank you to everyone I have worked with in the past four months. Thank you. 

Now I just need to figure out a way to keep the mojo flowing. After a trip home to recharge my batteries. And a day spent inside watching old sci-fi favorites. 

December 13 - Kickstart

Theatre is not an easy business. As an actor, there is so much more that you have to do beyond all of the stuff that happens once you're on stage, most of which involves trying to make sure you get to be onstage again. Networking, auditioning, branding, building relationships. And especially as an actor entering an already saturated marketplace where nobody knows your name, you have to stay on top of this stuff. Go to every audition you might be right for. Talk to the directors and producers you meet. Chat with fellow actors. You have to build your circle. You have to get your face out there. 

As an introvert, I hate this part of the job. 

Maybe hate is too strong a word. It is not my favorite part of being an actor. It can be exhausting and after a while, it can feel like a chore. But it is so necessary. So necessary. 

Today, I had marked on my calendar that there was an open call audition that I wanted to attend. I spent the eighteen hours leading up to the audition talking myself out of going. I came up with every reason I could think of for why it would be depressing and a waste of my time and why I should ultimately not go. As an open call, nobody would know if I didn't show up because they weren't expecting me in the first place. I couldn't think of something good to wear. With my trip back to Chicago for the holidays, they probably wouldn't cast me because of too many scheduling conflicts. There are only two female characters. I even went so far as to look up the theatre company's past reviews to see the calibre of performance they are known for, which I'm pretty sure makes me a terrible person. But then I remembered that the way I booked the shows I've done in New York so far was by just going in and giving great auditions, whether or not I was likely to be cast. And that regardless of whether or not I'm the right person for this production, there could be some great people to meet in the process. If I go in and give a great audition, they may remember me for next time, even if my schedule is too crazy for this show. And perhaps most importantly, it was a chance to act in front of new people for a minute. 

So I went. And I had a blast. I chatted with some of the other actors, the director and producer were just lovely, and I killed my monologue. I could see that they liked me until they saw my schedule, so I'm not expecting a callback, but it was energizing. I may not be cast, but I got my face out there and I had fun. I call that a win. 

I need to remember days like today for the next time I try to convince myself that staying home and napping is a preferable alternative to going to an open call audition. I just need a little kickstart every now and again. Even if I have to provide it on my own. 

November 26 - Recommendation

See Sleep No More. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200. See Sleep No More. 

November 19 - Lucky

There are a lot of interesting characters on the subway in New York. Last night, there was a very drunk man seductively eating a lollipop, which he then put in his hand, and then his pocket, so that he could fall asleep. My hand felt empathetically sticky on his behalf. Sitting next to him was a man who looked like the last guy I tried dating, who kept trying to covertly sneak a glance at me, and then made a sort of show out of getting a dollar out of his wallet to give to a musician playing his guitar on the train. I, of course, was standing near the doors with my steamer. As one does.

The thing that hit me last night is that each of these people has a reason for being on the train at ten o'clock at night. I, admittedly, don't understand the people with infants and toddlers on the train at eleven o'clock or midnight, but every single person on the train has a reason for being there. They're all going somewhere, coming from somewhere, avoiding something, anticipating something. They all have a story, and for anywhere between two minutes and an hour, our stories intersect when we all find ourselves riding the same train together in the same direction.

What also hit me last night was how lucky I am to be living my story. I was on the train at ten o'clock last night coming home from the theatre. I had my steamer with me because I'm the helpful sort who wanted to make our costumes look less wrinkly, and the best night to take the steamer back home was last night because I wouldn't have to move my car for street cleaning once I made it back to my neighborhood. And before getting on the train, I was part of a lovely production where I got to work with some people who I have really come to adore in the last month and a half, and we were lucky enough to get a standing ovation from some of the audience members. We touched lives last night. We made people feel things and we started conversations and we validated those who were in need of some validation. And after doing all of that, and after taking some pictures so that the work done on this show can hopefully help people get more work on future shows, I found myself on the train with the very drunk lollipop guy, the guitarist, the guy who looked like an ex, and a whole host of other people. I wondered, how many of them were on their way home from touching someone's life and making that person feel good about him or herself? Maybe a lot. Maybe none. But I found myself feeling very lucky to have had the evening I had.

November 12 - Alone

I saw the National Theatre's production of Coriolanus last night, or a screening thereof, to be precise. I had tried to see an actual performance of it when I was in London last winter, but it was completely sold out. After seeing the screening, I'm thinking maybe it's a good thing that I didn't see it in person because I may not have been able to speak for a couple of days afterward. It was very well done, and very intense.

In preparation for seeing the show, though, I read up on it in my Shakespeare books, and then read the text of the play so I would have an idea of what was going on and who was who. I don't always do that, but as this is a Shakespearean play with which I was not previously familiar, I thought it might be good to do so. My research told me that of all of Shakespeare's play, this one uses the word "alone" the most. At least, I think that is what I have read. And there is a very large through line of the title character doing things alone, and feeling that he is alone in lots of things. For those of you who don't know the story and are not opposed to spoilers, I'll fill you in a bit.

Caius Martius (sometimes spelled Caius Marcius) is a super-charged war fighting machine. The play takes place in Italy when the country wasn't really a country yet, but was a group of warring city states, Rome being one of them. Rome hadn't yet become the central seat of power, and wasn't the great Roman Empire we've all come to know and love, so there was a lot of political uproar going on, pretty much all the time, with lots of little wars and battles between these various city states. So at the start of the play, the Romans are pissed that corn is so expensive and they're ready to riot about it, until Menenius calms them down by telling them that really, the government gets the corn and distributes it to the people who then don't have to distribute it any further, so really, the government isn't all that bad. Then Martius shows up in a pissy mood, says some angry things to the peasants that essentially amount to, "You're peasants, so shut your yaps," and everyone gets all pissed off again. Good going, Martius. So they all decide that they need to fight the Volscians to get their corn, and several of them tromp off to do so. The wall around the Volscian camp is really tall, though, so only Martius is able to scale it and get inside to fight the Volscians. He single-handedly wins that battle, including a nice fight with his arch-rival Aufidus. Drenched in blood, Martius returns to Rome, where is given the battle garland (think: game ball) and everyone is happy. So happy, in fact, at his no-loss war record that they give him the title of Coriolanus. But that's not enough. I think it is Menenius, and maybe another mostly-good-dude-and-mostly-friend-of-Martius named Cominius, who decide that since Coriolanus is a good military guy, he'd also make a great politician. Because that's how that works. Coriolanus begrudgingly goes through the motions necessary to gain the people's voices so he can become consul (think: Senate hearings vetting a Supreme Court candidate, but with a toga) and is voted consul. No sooner has he left the room, though, than the two jealous tribunes (appointed to be the voices of the people) point out that Coriolanus had a stick up his butt the whole time and decide he should be overthrown and the votes that made him consul don't count. The people agree. Coriolanus shows up to do his consul type things, and all hell breaks loose as the people tell him he's not the consul. He throws a fit, says some things that he probably shouldn't, and everyone leaves in a snit. Menenius tells Coriolanus to apologize, which he begrudgingly agrees to do when his mother tells him it's okay to do so. Did I mention that Coriolanus has a bit of a Norman Bates obsession with his mom? But she's still alive. Think of her kind of as his puppetmaster. She wants him to be the greatest everything that ever was. She's kind of awesome and terrifying as a character. Anyway. Coriolanus goes back to the Senate ready to stay calm and apologize, but the two jealous tribunes are kind of prepped to either have the people kill him or banish him, and in their rage, they banish him. The mom is pissed. Coriolanus says some tearful goodbyes and leaves Rome, and leaves his mom, wife and son behind. He goes off to find, of all people, Aufidus, his arch-enemy, who he now wants to join up with so they can conquer Rome together since Rome was so horrible as to banish him. Aufidus says okay, and they build a fantastic war machine together. In the interim, Cominius comes to see Coriolanus/Martius, who refuses to see him. Menenius comes to see Coriolanus/Martius, who refuses to see him. And Rome starts to panic because now they know that Coriolanus/Martius is going to attack and in all likelihood, will devastate Rome. Finally, Coriolanus/Martius' mom, wife and son go to see him, and the mom makes a very impassioned speech about why he shouldn't destroy Rome, but should instead broker a peace between Rome and the Volscians. Puppetmaster wins and Coriolans/Martius says okay, he'll broker a peace. He sends his mom, wife and son back to Rome with the good news, at which point, Aufidus and his men promptly kill Coriolanus/Martius for being a traitor and the play ends.

This a very brief synopsis, mind you.

Getting back to the point I wanted to make before the synopsis, though, there is a lot in this play about doing things alone. Coriolanus fights the Volscians alone. He, alone, slaughters them. He, alone, has garnered all of these military victories. Alone, he is chosen to rule and represent Rome. Alone he asks for votes. Alone, he is cast out. Alone, he begs Aufidus for an alliance. Alone, he chooses to broker a peace. Alone, he dies. And in the way it was staged in this particular production, when Coriolanus is killed, his mother shows up on another part of the stage, with rose petals raining down on her, so you can see her face as she learns of her son's death. And the way it was played, she knew it was her fault he was killed. Had she not convinced him to broker that peace, he would still be alive. It was heartbreaking. Seriously, if you can find the production online somewhere, rent it or buy it or find some way to see it because it is very well done.

But as one who has spent so much of her life being ridiculously self-reliant, this might have been exactly the wrong show for me to see at this point in my emotional development. Coriolanus, arrogant as he is, is doing just fine in his solitude. He has a wife and a family and the best battle record of anyone in Rome. It is not until he starts to trust other people that things go haywire. He doesn't want to be consul, but he does it to please others. And then at the end, when he finally gives in and lets himself have a family, lets himself truly care about those who care about him, he is killed. This would seem to reinforce the idea that solitude isn't such a bad thing; it's other people who will screw you over the in the long run.

Yesterday, I wore the wrong shoes. My feet were killing me before I even got to work and I knew I wouldn't get home until after eleven o'clock at night. And as I was trying to figure out how to fix this problem, one of the women I work with offered to lend me a spare pair of sneakers she had under her desk for the day. I felt weird doing it, but then I remembered that a) my feet really hurt and b) people like being able to help other people, so I borrowed her shoes. And I found myself nearly bowled over by this simple act of kindness from someone I've only known for two months. It reminded me that self-reliance is great up to a certain point, but that help from others can be a glorious thing. And then I saw Coriolanus. You see my problem now?

So it's something I'm still working on. I do know that playing the character of Coriolanus' mom is in my future, or at least I hope it is. Though maybe I need to get past the place where I so strongly identify with Coriolanus' self-reliance first. Maybe I need to play him.

What? Stranger things have happened.

November 9 - Opening

This was opening weekend of my second show in New York. I have loved working on this one, and really hope I get to stay in touch with and work with these people again. It's been a very rewarding experience. 

We had a couple of hiccups, which was to be expected. But we were also fortunate enough to have the playwright in the audience both last night and tonight, and she was over the moon with how it came together. I think that's a good barometer by which to judge the outcome of a rehearsal process - if the playwright is so pleased that she wishes she could be there for every performance, I think we must be doing something right. 

And now I'm going to eat a giant salad and go to bed at a decent hour. Such is the theatre life. 

November 7 - Memorization

Most actors will likely tell you that their least favorite thing to do is memorize their lines. They'll complain that it is boring and tedious and say that there are a million things they would rather do than memorize lines. I'm not here to debate that - memorization is boring, tedious work. It is so necessary, though. Acting 101: Memorize your lines as quickly as you can so you can get the script out of your hand and start playing around with the character and your scene partner.

Now, that is not to say that the script is the enemy. The script in its entirety is your best friend in the whole wide world. I know some actors who only pay attention to their lines and maybe a cue word, and it works for some, but not always for others. I think it's helpful to know that my scene partner has a giant monologue before my next line, so just in case they say my cue word more than once, I know that they still have a ways to go before it's my turn to speak. So hang onto your script until you're comfortable being without it.

I also know that I memorize things quickly - we've talked about this before - and people ask me how I go about doing so. So today, I'm going to walk you through my basic memorization process as best I can in case you would like to give it a shot.

• Step 1: Read the script. The entire script. Look for your lines, yes, but also pay attention to the story, the arc, the other characters. Get an idea of what the entire show is about.
• Step 2: Read the script. Again. At least one more time. If you want to, on this read you can highlight your lines as you get to them. I know some people also like to highlight their stage directions; generally speaking, I don't. Often times, I don't even read them. The stage directions in a published script are often the stage directions from the first production of the show, which likely had a different set or stage configuration than what you'll have, or your director has a different vision than that director did, so your stage directions will likely not match what is printed in the script. If there is something that is important to advancing the plot, or that directly affects someone else's lines, highlight that, yes. For example, if the stage direction says, "They kiss," and is followed by the line, "Why did you kiss me?" chances are, the kiss will be kept in the production. So highlight that if you want, but you don't have to.
• Step 3: Read the script. This time, say your lines out loud when you come to them. This step is important so that you can hear what you sound like saying those words out loud. You can also make note of any words that are particularly difficult to say, that you don't know how to pronounce, or that you don't know what they mean. If, in this step, you want to focus on only the scenes you're in, that's okay. I think it's a good idea to have read the entire script more than once before you really start diving into it, though.
• Step 4: Start building a character. This does not have to be the finished product, or the final version of the character you will be playing. But by this time, having read the script (or your scenes) at least three times, you should start to have an idea about some of the choices you'd like to make. You can even write down a list of questions about the character that you may want to think about later or ask the director about. Think about your character's history. Think about why the character is in this specific place on this specific day. Think about how the character feels about the other people in each scene and in the play. Figure out who this person is.
• Be careful about making decisions about your relationships with other characters without talking to those other actors first. If there is information you should both know (i.e. we've been dating for three years and have talked about marriage but are not engaged), that's a discussion item. You can make your own choices for your own character (i.e. even though you've talked about marriage, you know in your heart you'll never propose), but you can't make choices for someone else's character without discussing it with them first. Nor can they make choices for you.
• Step 5: Read the script. The entire thing. See if any of the answers to the questions you wrote down exist elsewhere in the script or if they really do need to be asked.
• Step 6: Read the script out loud, preferably with your scene partner in rehearsal. Sometimes, this step has to be skipped or edited down because of time constraints in the rehearsal process. But I think it is a good idea to read the script, while looking at the actual words written in the script, with the rest of the cast. You'll get an idea of who their characters are, how they will be played, and what sort of shape the scenes will start to take.
• Step 7: Read the script. On your own, but maybe in chunks. Look at a line or two and see if you can remember what they are without looking at the script. If you have big monologues and need to focus on a sentence or two at a time, do that. Get the words down in the right order so that you can say your lines without looking at the script.
• Try to remember the words in the right order without any particular emotional inflection. If you get too used to being extremely angry on a certain line and then the director suggests you try it with more self-pity and less anger, it can throw you. If you remember the words just as words in a sentence, sentences in a paragraph, then you can put whatever emotions and inflections you want onto them later.
• Step 8: Read the script. Cover your lines and read your scene partner's lines to find your cues. Figure out what it is in what your partner is saying to you that makes you say what you're about to say next. For example, let's say you know you have two lines that are, "Does ginger ale remove blueberry stains?" and "They're right here, where they always are." Your scene partner says, "Why can I never find my glasses when I need them?" Which of those two lines of yours is the more appropriate response? If you said the second one, congratulations, you're on your way to passing Acting 101. 
• Caveat: there are certain playwrights or certain scenes wherein the proper response to the question above would be the one about removing blueberry stains, but that goes back to your character building exercises. Is your character anti-social? Is your character petulant? Does your character have a compulsive need to clean things that is more important than anything else, or a crippling fear of blueberry stains? If so, the the ginger ale response would be the right one. Which is to say, if you find yourself getting stuck in the same place over and over again in your memorization, chances are your character development needs a little bit of tweaking. What kind of person would say the thing you're supposed to say next? Be that person. There is no shame in stepping back to reevaluate.
• Step 9: Rehearse. By this time, you know your character, you know your lines, you know your cues, so all there is left to do is rehearse the scene with your fellow actors. This also means that if your scene partner skips a line, you can pick up the scene where it goes from the line they gave you, not from the line you thought you were supposed to say next.
• This includes saying the lines as often as you can. When you're walking down the street, recite your monologues. When you're in the shower, see if you can say your lines in order. That kind of thing. If you get away from them too long, you'll forget them.

This is called "doing your homework." Notice a theme?

Ideally, all of this would happen within the first couple of days following the initial read-through. If you're really lucky and can get the script before the first read-through, I'd recommend spending time on steps 1-5 before the read through, and steps 4-9 in the days thereafter. Because then you can spend the rest of the rehearsal time working the scenes. Working moments. Exploring emotional depths. Learning dance routines or fight choreography as necessary. And since you'll get to do all of that without your script in hand, the lovely phenomenon called "muscle memory" can kick in and by opening night, you'll just be so used to saying your lines with your scene partner that if the venue you're working in floods and you have to perform in the street with different costumes, you won't be so thrown that you can't perform.

Memorization is tedious and boring, yes. But it is a necessary first step in performance. First step. Which means it should be done as quickly as possible, not saved until the night before opening. Acting is about so much more than memorizing and blurting out lines, but it is hard to get to all of that other stuff until the lines are memorized. So do everyone in your production a favor and learn your lines as quickly as you can.

I hope this was helpful. I'll get of my soapbox now.

November 6 - Free Advice

Acting is 90% listening. 

October 22 - Categorization

So, in regard to the play I'm currently working on about transgender people at various points in their transition process, someone asked me if I do or have done a lot of queer theatre, and honestly, that question has been ringing in my head ever since it was asked. It bothered me. At first, I wasn't sure if it was the tone of voice - it was almost condescending, like as a cast member, I would only be valued if I was a crusader for gay rights since I myself do not identify as gay. I don't think that was how the question was intended, though, so I found myself thinking about it more and more and trying to figure out why the question irked me. Here's what I've come up with so far. And keep in mind, I do not identify as gay, so whatever I say here should be taken with a grain of salt. Or at least with the knowledge that it comes from a largely hetero-normative perspective.

First of all, I don't like the word "queer" in this context. To me, "queer" means "strange" or "abnormal" or "odd," and I'm not sure I want to refer to non-heterosexual lifestyles as "strange" or "abnormal" or "odd." That seems counter-intuitive to me. I realize that there is an element of, "Okay, you guys used this word to describe us for a long time, so we're going to take it back and own it," but I still don't like to use the word "queer" in this context. It feels wrong for me personally to use it as someone who hasn't really been on either side of that spat, historically speaking.

But I think the root of the problem I had with being asked if I've done a lot of queer theatre stems from the need to identify queer theatre as something separate from non-queer theatre. And as an extension of that, I don't think I would therefore have a good definition for what makes theatre queer. I was a member of a theatre company that was founded by two drag queens - does that mean everything I did there was queer theatre? My Hamlet was bisexual - does that make that queer theatre? I played a woman who suffered severe head trauma, woke up with amnesia, and fell in love with a woman - was that queer theatre? Our completely cross-gender-cast The Bad Seed: The Musical was adored by the Chicago gay community - was that queer theatre? In many of the shows that I've done, I've been in the minority as a non-homosexual cast or crew member - was that queer theatre? Or is "queer theatre" only used to describe theatre that tries to directly address or advances LGBT issues? Because using one set of criteria, I've done a lot of "queer theatre," but using another, I've not. So I honestly didn't know how to answer the question.

Which then brought me back to another question that came up in the past few days and how much I liked the answer to it. Within the context of a lesbian relationship, I know someone who takes issue with describing one partner as the "butch" and one as the "fem," because not all lesbian relationships are composed of a "butch" and a "fem." Often times, it's two women who fell in love. Each of them might like to wear makeup from time to time, or flannel shirts from time to time. They don't necessarily fall into one category or the other, they fall into the gray area in between, like so many of us do in relation to so many things.

Again: they fall into the gray area in between, like so many of us do in relation to so many things.

So I think what bothered me about being asked if I've done a lot of "queer theatre" was the need to categorize what I do and what I've done. I understand that labels and categorizations are comforting for a lot of people. They give a point of reference for how to relate to the world around us. I'm getting tired of categorizations, though. I'm starting to feel like they separate us more than they bring us together. If you're gay and I'm not, does that mean we can't interact? If you're a boy and I'm a girl, does that mean we can't geek out over Doctor Who together? If I'm American and you're French, does that mean we can't be great dance partners? For me, the answer to all of those questions is "no." And I like having a diverse circle of friends (or at the very least, a diverse circle of acquaintances). And I like having a diverse group of life experiences, meaning I like to do straight theatre, queer theatre, classical theatre, contemporary theatre, theatre written by playwrights from all over the world. I like to do theatre. I like to tell stories of all sorts. I'm just as thrilled to be a part of a production that is topical and designed to raise awareness as I am to be part of a Shakespearean production of a play that has been produced thousands of times before. I don't feel the need to concentrate my efforts on one type of theatre or another, as I think they're all valid and fun and vibrant.

Is that wrong?

October 18 - So Close, Yet So Far

When Tom Hiddleston was doing Coriolanus in London, they released a video on YouTube that showed part of the preshow ritual - getting into costume, getting calls from the stage manager, the cast doing warm-ups on stage including Zip Zap Zop because that game exists everywhere, and for the second time in my life, I got a really strange warm fuzzy feeling about theatre outside of Chicago. The first time was when I was in Milan and I visited the La Scala Opera House during a tech rehearsal and I was able to see that theatre is theatre where ever it happens. We all warm up before the show, often with the same games. Tech is a tedious but necessary process. It was just a glorious feeling that since I am a theatre artist, the skills I have studied and honed in storefront theatres will translate to other stages. And that no matter how big the stage, I will find a home there. 

Tonight, there was a massive party with a DJ in the room adjacent to our performance space. Our dressing room door doesn't lock, and there really aren't good lights or mirrors for putting on make up. There is a man who lives upstairs in the space who will stumble drunkenly into our dressing room during performances. The off-stage left area smells like cat pee. 

But we still show up every night, and we do our warm-ups and check our props, and go through our rituals. It is not glamorous, but it is theatre. And we do it because we love it. We do it because the thought of not doing theatre makes our hearts ache and our souls sink. We do theatre because we can't not. 

All the same, we dream of the days when our dressing rooms have mirrors and locks on the doors. We dream of spaces with fuses that don't blow and where we can control the sound. We dream of performing with Tom Hiddleston. We dream. 

October 15 - Dues

It was raining both inside and outside the theatre tonight. 

October 13 - Opening Night

Tonight is opening night for my first show in New York City.

I moved here forty-three days ago, and tonight, I am opening a show in New York City.

Let me say that again: I moved here forty-three days ago and tonight, I am opening a show in New York City.

I realize that my entire acting career will not go like this. I realize that there will still be shows that I love more than others, casts I treasure and casts that fade into memory over time. There will be dry spells and moments of desperation and moments of doubt when I find myself wondering if I made the right choice moving 1000 miles away from everything familiar to try to pursue my dreams.

But right now, in today, I'm going to enjoy the fact that I moved here forty-three days ago and I am opening a show tonight. I am going to enjoy my fellow cast members on stage, I am going to enjoy the language and the accents. I am going to go to the theatre tonight after work to do the thing I that I do, and I am going to let myself be completely giddy in the knowledge that I get to do what I love.

Next week I will think about how strange it feels to only be working on two plays at the same time instead of three...

October 5 - People

I found myself wondering if we, as actors, do ourselves a disservice by using the word "character," as in, "I'm playing a character on stage." I wonder if it wouldn't make more sense to think of them as people. "I'm playing a person in this play."

Quick caveat: I understand for a lot of people, it may be important to call them characters so they can be easily distinguished from the actor. If you are one of those actors, please continue to use the word. 

If you are the sort who can handle the difference between on-stage and off-stage, I'd like to propose a change in verbiage. I think we sometimes get caught up in the word "character," and it makes us think we have to start from scratch to build this persona and depending on how much rehearsal time we have, that is how fully fleshed out this character will become. We have to remind ourselves to have reactions to the things around us, we have to remind ourselves to develop mannerisms. Some people are very good at this and do these things naturally. Some need to be reminded by their directors. 

But I wonder, if we said we were playing a person in this play if maybe it would remind us naturally that we can use ourselves as a starting point and build from there. Maybe this person picks at their fingernails like I do, or maybe they don't. Maybe she walks like I do or maybe she doesn't. But I think remembering things like this, or taking note of things like this, might free us up to react naturally or move freely and follow our impulses while we're on stage. Because I think it is our job to be people up there. People who interact like people do, people who react like people do, people who maybe even scratch their noses while up on stage. Just people who happen to be saying words that someone else already picked out for them. 

I'd like to think that my performances are what they are because I am first and foremost a person when I am on stage. The script and the director help shape me into the kind of person best suited for the show, but I'm still just a person up there - living, breathing, thinking, and saying someone else's words. It may be a minor semantic difference, but it struck me today as a rather important one for doing what I do and for doing it well. 

October 3 - Theatre District

New York's theatre district is actually quite marvelous. I'm excited to get to know it better. 

September 28 - Gender

We had our first read through today for a play I am working on that is based on interviews with transgender people from all across the spectrum and it got me thinking.

I am female. I am biologically female and spiritually female. I tend to find myself more attracted to men than women, though that's not to say I haven't had the odd girl crush. For me, I have always known that I'm female - there wasn't a moment in my life when it hit me, "Wow, I'm a girl." It's just always been this way. But in looking back on my life during one of the exercises in rehearsal, I found myself remembering times when I resented the fact that I am female. I don't think the resentment ever went deep enough that I found myself truly wanting to be a man, but I distinctly remember resenting being female from time to time as I was growing up. Often times, it was because my brother and his friends were doing things that were more fun that the things I was doing and I wanted to be able to participate but they wouldn't let me because I was a girl. I remember being jealous of the fact that my brother and his friends called each other by their last names, when my friends and I never did that. And even now, as an actor, I sometimes resent the fact that I'm female because there are so many more roles out there for men and significantly fewer men to fill them. At just about any given audition, you'll get two to three times more women showing up to audition than men, but so many shows only have one or two female characters, versus four to six (or more) men. So I get annoyed with that and think things would be easier for me if I was male. But I think my career will be that much more rewarding if I am successful as a woman because of that fact. So I'm happy being female.

I do feel a little dull sometimes, being a mostly straight mostly girl. Like I would have more interesting stories to tell if my sex, gender, or orientation was not in line with societally accepted norms. But then again, I have to be me, just like everyone else does, and I'm a girl who mostly likes boys. Dull as it sounds, that's me.

But my biggest takeaway from this first read through is that I am so beyond lucky to be part of this project. The dialogue happening between actors, directors, and the playwright today was really lovely. Very open, very honest, very accepting. Everyone in that room wants desperately to tell these stories. And everyone in that room is open to loving and accepting everyone else in that room exactly as they are. This is why I do theatre. This is why I love theatre. I have been blessed to be able to meet the people I've met and touch the lives I've touched through theatre. And the best part is, I'm just getting started.

September 15 - Theatre

I've said it before and I'll say it again: Theatre cures everything. 

Today was my first day at work and it was a first day of work. Making sure I had access to all of the things I'll need, trying to balance asking questions with not interrupting other people while they are busy, trying to figure out when it is good to interject and when it is best to shut up, trying lots of things, failures outnumbering successes. And I was cast in another show today. Not in the role I was expecting, though, and I'll admit there were conflicting thoughts of do I want to put in that much effort versus this could be a gateway opportunity that I would be stupid to pass up, and I reminded myself that I am not a small actor so I took the part and will play it to the best of my ability. And the movers still don't know what is going on with my shipment. The driver may or may not still be sick, the other crew coming back to Chicago may or may not arrive this week, and they may or may not be able to turn around and head right back out with my stuff. So my things may or may not be showing up on Thursday, just in time for me to pile boxes into my room and go to Chicago for the weekend. And I'll tell ya, by the time I left work, I felt like I could really go for a bit of a cry. Just an "I'm exhausted and need these tears to wash away the tired" kind of cry. But I had a callback audition to go to. Which means three callbacks from the three auditions I went to on Saturday. 

Even sitting in the waiting room for the callback, I found myself wishing I was elsewhere. But as soon as I got in the room in front of the director...I was me again. Full of energy, full of ideas, willing to try things and play. I was supposed to read three scenes, but one of the other actresses had to leave early, so I ended up reading five or six and I loved it. Any day wherein I get to act is a good day. So bring it on. Be it audition after audition or callback after callback or background role after background role, I am the luckiest woman in the world every time I set foot onto a stage. Because this is what I love to do. In whatever capacity, in whatever volume, in whatever venue. I love to act. Any day I get to act is a good day. 

That's not to say I am not still exhausted. And wishing I had my futon to sleep on instead of an air mattress. But I got to act today, and the director enjoyed my work. Today was a good day. 

August 6 - Semantic Proposal

I saw an article the other day (which I, admittedly, did not read) about the rise in popularity of the spelling "theatre" in the United States, as opposed to "theater." The British vs. the American, some might say. As one who grew up with the American spelling, I do feel a bit snobbish when I use the British spelling, but I think I have a proposed solution to this problem that will also make things clearer when using either spelling in written situations.

Theater, n. A venue in which pre-recorded entertainment is watched by a large audience, i.e. a movie theater.

Theatre, n. A venue in which live entertainment is watched by a large audience, i.e. an opera house or venue in which plays or musicals are performed.

Now, I put "large audience" in there to differentiate between an actual theatre and watching your friends do an improv skit at Thanksgiving dinner because let's face it, 1) that happens, and 2) your dining room is not a theatre. But this is not meant to imply that if a venue can seat 400 people and only six show up for a performance that the space is no longer a theatre (or theater). This is only meant to imply that the potential for a large audience is there and/or that the purpose for people going there is solely to watch entertainment. Or largely to watch entertainment. Some go to appease spouses and significant others in the hopes of future sexual favors with the theatrical performance being secondary to that. But I think you get the gist.

This differentiation also pays homage to the origins of both media - theatre existing long before the United States did, and movie theaters being so prevalent in the United States as Hollywood is still considered the be-all-end-all goal for many film actors even though movies of higher caliber are often produced elsewhere.

So what do you think? Theatre for live entertainment and theater for pre-recorded? Sound good?

Okay. Done.

July 24 - Benchmarks

There is something big looming on the horizon for me. Some of you know what I am talking about and some of you don't. It has been an offline conversation so far and when the time is right, I will tell everyone online all about it. This is not that time (so if you know what I'm talking about, please keep the conversation offline).

The thing about something big looming on the horizon, though, is that in order to deal with the crippling fear associated with said thing, I have found lots of little things to keep my attention in the interim. Because then, before I know it, the big thing will be here and I'll have to deal with it and I won't have too much time to think about it so I won't spend too much time being scared of it, you know? It's like, if you're planning a wedding or something, you have to break it down into little, manageable bites because looking at the whole thing at once is just too overwhelming.

Well, one of my little things ended last night. I was working on a short play in a play festival that I absolutely adored. I loved the script, I loved the cast, I loved the writer and the director. I still do. But we have now been eliminated from the competition, so the project, this project, is very abruptly over. And I am remarkably sad about it. I am sad, in part, because it was a project that I loved and believed in so much, and in part because now, without this project as a distraction, I have to look at the big scary looming on the horizon. The big scary is that much closer now. It has been bumped up in priority on my to-do list. And that is terrifying.

So today is a little rough for me. I will miss this cast and crew immensely, even though I only got to work with some of them for a couple of days. They are lovely, brilliant, talented, caring, generous people and I am not done having them in my life. I'm not done having this script in my life, either. I hope it does get fully produced one day. Thank you to the writer for giving us such lovely words and such brilliant characters to play. Thank you to the director for letting me be part of this and for being so warm, welcoming, and encouraging. Thank you to my cast mates for just plain being brilliant. I love you guys.

Now I just have a movie to make and a big scary to face. Wish me luck!

July 23 - Changing

When I was in college, I was in a short play about a man who buys five raffle tickets from five different women and ends up winning a donkey. To be honest, I don't remember the name of the play - we rehearsed for about a week and there was only one performance as part of (I believe) an Irish play festival. In any case, I played all five women. Since they come in one right after the other to sell him raffle tickets, we decided that my costume changes should happen on stage and be part of the show. Each change was accompanied by a different piece of music, and the woman playing the donkey would help me. For one of them, when I was changing out of a fat suit into a "geek" costume, the traditional stripper music was playing, so I used the coat rack my costumes were hanging on to, um, spice up the change. And for the actual performance, my grandmother was sitting in the front row. To sum up - I did a "stripper" routine on stage, changing from a fat suit to a "geek" costume, in front of my grandmother.

This is the thing about being a theatre person. You get to (have to) do things on stage that you would never do in your regular life. This, to me, is what is really fun about it.

I was thinking about this last night, too, as I was changing into my costume in the one, tiny dressing room available to the performers of all three pieces that were going up at the same time. In my piece alone, there are three men and three women (including me). So instantly, we have a unisex dressing room. This is not new to me - I think the last time I worked somewhere that had separate dressing rooms for men and women was in college. But clothes have to get changed, which means sometimes, you have to change in front of people, and sometimes those people are of the same gender as you and sometimes they are not. Last night, for example, I changed into my costume in front of a man I had only met the night before. And you know what? It was no big deal. We were chatting about things before I changed, we continued to chat while I changed, and the conversation continued after I was finished. There were no hoots or hollers. There were no disparaging looks or disdainful glances cast at my tummy or rear end. There was no sexual innuendo. We were both just actors preparing to go on stage and do a show together. No big deal.

The idea of changing clothes in front of other people being no big deal then sort of extrapolated itself into this brilliant body acceptance thing. Because I know that for some people, even some of my fellow actors, it still is a big deal. As a woman, I'm sure I'm not the only one who has worn a skirt so I can easily put my costume trousers on underneath it to prevent any potential flashing situations. I can see out of the corner of my eye sometimes how comfortable or uncomfortable other people are with this sort of odd situation - you need to change your clothes and there just happen to be fifteen other people in the room who also need to change their clothes and you'd all really like to just get changed so you can go home or go to the bar and have a post-show drink. And what I've learned is that while everyone is changing together, nobody is looking at anybody else. This is not the time or place for judgement. This is not the arena for body shaming. This is a group of people doing a job. Once we're in our costumes, there may be chat of "Oh my god, I look so old," or as my one cast mate put it last night, "You look like a drunk" (which I am supposed to). But what is brilliant about those comments is that each and every one of us is wearing the costume we are supposed to wear in order to put the story on stage that needs to be told. It's not about who has bigger boobs or tighter abs or flabby biceps. It is about exactly the right people looking exactly the right way to invite the audience into the world of the play in such a way that they feel like they've known these people living in this world forever.

This is what I love about theatre. A moment as mundane as dropping my pants in front of a man I met twenty-four hours earlier turned into a moment of "I look exactly the way I am supposed to right now." How awesome is that?