Trying to Find Balance

A few months ago, I thought I had it figured out. Why not go to New York and try to make it? After all, I was unemployed and hadn't been able to find any kind of job around here. I was unemployed anyway, so there was nothing to lose! And, I said, I'd rather be an out-of-work actor than an out-of-work cubicle-dweller.

But now I do have a job. More important, I have a job I love. So now I'm confused.

For the time being, I've decided to focus on my new career. It would be stupid to throw away a great job to move to New York after only a few months on the job. Plus, the economy sucks. So I've decided that I'm not even going to audition for any upcoming community theatre shows. At least not for a while. (I've also stepped away from my voice lessons. Since I'm not in auditioning or performing mode, there's less of a need. Plus I wanted to save the expense, at least for a little while.)

I feel good about that decision ... but it also scares me. Am I selling out? Am I deferring my dreams yet again? Can I be truly happy in this new career, or do I eventually need an acting career to feel fulfilled?

It's all about balance.

Having no job but a thriving theatrical life is fun at first. But after a while, the lack of balance begins to be too much of a negative. I think I did need a) something else going on in my life and b) for the financial/emotional turmoil of joblessness to end. For right now, focusing on a new exciting job is great. And after a while, I'm sure the lack of a show will begin to really bother me.

At the moment, I'm enjoying where I am and what the immediate future holds. And I'm trying to figure out what the hell to do next.

Casting results

Well, huh.

I came home at 1 a.m. to a voice mail offering me a spot as a cut dancer in A Chorus Line. Cool! This is fine by me because I know I'm not as good a dancer as the people who got cast as main characters (though I reserve the right to believe I'm a better singer and actor). So, knowing my limitations, I don't feel I was treated at all unfairly.

Plus — and this is what I'm really excited about — it will give me a chance to learn and grow. The dance audition was challenging and fun. So I'll be in the opening number and the finale, which will give me a chance to do more dancing on stage. Yay!

I just have to call the stage manager back tomorrow.

Auditioning practice

After the last show, I had sworn off auditioning for Lyric Theatre. In seven auditions, I had never even gotten offered a chorus/ensemble role (to the bafflement of more than just myself). I said I didn't want to waste my time on an unfair process.

My resolution didn't last long, and I auditioned tonight for their next show. And I feel good about it. I totally shifted my attitude. If I go into an audition wanting to be cast, I'm likely to be disappointed. If I go into an audition even wanting to be treated "fairly" or cast ahead of people who are less talented, I'm likely to have wasted my time. But what if my goal is to use them and take advantage of the audition? Maybe they'll never cast me. But if they're going to waste my time, I'm going to waste theirs. They're going to have to sit there and watch my audition.

More significantly, I decided to use the auditions as an opportunity to practice auditioning. I especially wanted to get more experience with learning choreography in a dance audition (as well as dealing with nerves while singing).

So I got exactly what I wanted. I did a good job. Maybe I'll even get cast. Probably I won't. But I got a nice opportunity to practice my auditioning.

The dancing was challenging for me, and I did mess up. But, boy, was it fun! I really do love dancing. I got a little bit of a workout, did a fun dance and worked on my auditioning skills. That's not a waste of time at all.

Hmm...

I am in a seriously contemplative mood.

Nothing ever seems to get "crossed off." From issues with the dog to my life and career in general, few things have been resolved lately — even when I take action on them. (Or if they resolve, they fall apart again or immediately get replaced by new issues.)

Yesterday I voiced my frustration at how confusing things are. I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing. I don't know what any of the answers are.

But maybe that's the point of this time of my life: soul-searching, asking questions, exploring options. Maybe it's not about taking action or forging my path (yet). Maybe it's about exploring the territory and trying to figure things out. Maybe it's about becoming comfortable with uncertain situations (e.g. joblessness) so that when I face them again, I'm better prepared to deal with them. Maybe it's not about finding the answers (yet) but about learning how to ask myself the questions and being comfortable with that.

My mom said to me today that she thinks this period in my life will be very valuable to me some day because it is forcing me to look at my life in a different way and it could have a huge impact on the person I become. That comment surprised me and opened my eyes.

Where is the Universe Pushing Me?

I've been unemployed (and searching for a job) for 10 months. And I've realized why this is so depressing and frustrating to me.

I never realized looking for a job (any job) would be this fraught with rejection. That was theoretically why I initially chose not to pursue an acting career — it's so hard to find work! But if I'm going to be rejected, if I'm going to be unemployed, if I'm going to be stressing and working hard to find something ... why am I not going through all those things in order to find the job I want, the job I'll love? Why am I going through all that to find a job I don't really want anyway?

Maybe the universe is trying to give me a kick in the pants and push me where I need to go.

Sometimes I think that and brush it off. Sometimes there's just such a thing as crappy luck and there's no cosmic plan involved. Other times I'll feel reassured because it makes so much sense. That's why I haven't been able to find another day job in Vermont! I'm not supposed to have another day job in Vermont; I'm supposed to pursue an acting career (which means moving where the work is).

Well, I'll think on it.

Fear of Aging

I remember being 10 years old. My grandma had a bottle of Oil of Olay (the kind in the glass container and before they had 50,000 different products). She said, "It will make you look 10 years younger!" That was the reason to use it. And my 10-year-old self derived a great deal of amusement out of this. Here was a lotion I could put on to make me look like a newborn! Of course, I wasn't surprised when it didn't work that way, but it made me laugh anyway.

I had a vague concept of why women wanted to look younger, but I didn't really understand it. At that time in my life, the greatest compliment in the world was to be mistaken for a 12-year-old. Even after I turned 21, there was a time when it felt good not to be carded.

So when did that change? When did getting carded go from being an insult to being a compliment? I used to love it when people thought I was older than I was. When did I start loving it when people thought I was younger than I was?

I've always looked younger than my age, which I'm grateful for now. But I also realize I don't look like a teenager. Gray hairs don't bother me. I've had some since before I was 20, and they can always be dyed. But wrinkles! I'm a little freaked out over the signs of aging on my forehead, eyes and hands.

I suppose everyone has hang-ups over their age and physical appearance. But it's especially tricky for an actor. There are days when I'm okay with it. After all, I'm not yet old enough to play Mrs. Lovett. I have to keep aging if I ever want to play that role. I also have come to terms with the fact that I'll never play Leisl. I don't want to shoehorn myself into roles (like 30-somethings in Grease).

I was flipping through a copy of The Coast of Utopia and took great comfort from the fact that Jennifer Ehle and Martha Plimpton played characters that were considerably younger than their actual ages. I was technically too old to be Hope in Urinetown, yet I could pull that off age-wise because I do look younger.

But there are days when I just feel old.

And I think the reason is that I'm years behind in the game. I didn't go to theatre school right out of high school. I didn't start auditioning right after college. My career hasn't even started yet. And that's scary. It makes me fear that I'm too late, that I'll be "too old" before I get anywhere.

What I Say ... and What I'm Really Saying

I've taken important steps toward stating my goals in positive, clear terms. I included it in my most recent bio. I tell people about it (friends, interviewers, fellow castmates, etc.).

I want to perform professionally. I want to act full-time.

And the challenge is not to qualify or weaken that statement. I've gone from saying "I think I might want ..." to "I want ..." most of the time. And that's an important change.

I felt good telling people at the cast party "I want to do this professionally." I knew that was important for me to do.

But I also realized that I was actually saying something slightly different. My actual words were "I want to do this professionally" or "I want to be a professional actor." What I was actually saying was "Don't laugh at me but ..." (That in itself is a good example to learn from acting-wise, how what we say can be different from what our meaning is.)

Or I sometimes said to people, "I'm thinking of going to theatre school." It's true. I am thinking of it for two reasons. First, it would give me more credibility and experience and boost my resume. Second, I am sincerely interested in improving my craft and in learning to be a better actor. But what I was really saying to people was, "You might not think I'm good enough to be a professional actor. I guess I'm not good enough. I'll go to theatre school so I can become good enough."

It's time for me to stop apologizing! This is what I want. I want to be a professional actor. I want to perform as often as possible. And I believe I am good enough. I am a very talented singer and actor, and I already have the skills to merit a career. I am just going to get better from here.

Pursuing an acting career has to have this weird balance of confidence and humility. Cockiness and ego are inappropriate, but at the same time, I have to have confidence in myself and belief in my talent in order to get anywhere. And as much as I believe that I am good, I know that I am far from perfect. I can improve. To stop learning and growing would be boring. I want to take my talent to new levels. That is something I look forward to very much.

Photos and compliments

When I came out after the show, the one thing people invariably said to me was "Your costumes were amazing!" Friends and acquaintances told me how gorgeous I looked and gushed over the final dress.

I did joke a bit about how I could have forgotten all my lines and I would have gotten the same reaction. (How was my acting? Was that any good or was it just about the costumes?) Nevertheless, it felt good to be told how well I looked on stage. Many people commented on how much I looked the part, too.

And I got some lovely compliments on my performance. The music director of Urinetown told me he was proud of me. Former Urinetown castmates said I was "amazing." Well, there were a lot of nice compliments — from my looks to my singing and acting to my dancing. And the choreographer of Urinetown gave me the one compliment I think I most wanted to hear. She said, "You've developed a lot since last year." I said, "Thank you. I've been working really hard."




This dress was amazing. Vintage (from the 1930s), bias-cut satin. Girly-girl that I am, I adored it. And everybody commented on it. People would walk up to me and say "Oh my god, that dress!"




All photos © Adam Silverman

Meaning

Last year, when I was in Urinetown, it was a big deal for me. It was my first musical in years, my first lead in a musical in 11 years. I wanted everyone to be there. I e-mailed everyone I was somewhat decent friends with. My parents came all the way from Illinois to see it, which meant a lot to me. I was excited, and I wanted people to share my joy with me.

This year, in Annie, fewer of my friends/family are seeing the show. And that's okay. In a way this show is less of a big deal.

And yet, I think my performance in Annie has much more personal meaning for me. It's not about support from friends or congratulations or compliments. For me, this show has been about growth: working, learning and my quest for excellence. So this show has intense private, personal meaning for me.

In addition to my artistic goals (i.e. acting, singing and dancing well), I have some attitude goals. One of those is to have a healthier level of confidence. In Urinetown, if I had a period of no compliments, I started to get paranoid. Lately, I've been feeling good about myself even if I don't get compliments, which is a good thing. As an aspiring professional actor, I have to find confidence within myself.

Mid-Run of Annie

We are halfway through performances of Annie. Our first five performances are over; five remain. The show is a joy to do. As always, I feel that intense mingling of bliss at performing ... and sadness that it's about to end. So many people I do shows with say, "I'll be glad to get my life back." I've never said that and doubt I ever will. This production has just reaffirmed my desire to do as much theatre as possible. I really want to do this professionally. Once the show ends, hopefully I will ease my blues with serious action. And while it lasts, I'm going to enjoy every last moment.

I'll try to post pictures this week.

Reality-Show Perspective

I've been watching some performing-arts reality shows recently. I caught a few episodes of Step It Up and Dance. I watched the first episode of the Legally Blonde casting show (the title of which is too long for me to bother looking up or typing out). And I watched the audition episodes of So You Think You Can Dance.

On every show there is the professional. Been there, done that. They know what it is to work hard. They know what success feels like. And they also know what rejection feels like. So they're less likely to blow the reality-show rejection out of proportion.

And then there are the "passionate" amateurs. I put the word in quotes because they pretend a passion they probably don't really feel. They're melodramatic. Or maybe they're just young. Lord knows I've been there, too: devastated by a rejection and feeling things are over. But watching from an outside perspective, obviously, I'm not as emotionally involved as if I were competing.

I want to give these people a knock upside the head. If you really want to sing, being rejected from American Idol does not mean your singing dreams are over. So You Think You Can Dance is not the only way to make it as a dancer. It's not even the best way. If you give up after one rejection, either you're a fool or you didn't want it that much to begin with.

Instead of yelling at my TV, I file this wisdom away in my own brain. I've needed it before, and I'm sure I'll need it again. Keep trying. Pursue other venues and opportunities. No single rejection means the defeat of an entire career.

A 19-year-old on So You Think You Can Dance said she'd give up if she were rejected. The judges found the attitude troubling. She was probably just being overly emotional and not really so defeatist. Still, the point was powerful. If you give up so easily, maybe you don't deserve if after all — even if you're talented. If you give up so easily, it must not mean that much to you.

How much do my dreams mean to me?

I want to act (and sing) so much that I couldn't ever imagine stop dreaming it and trying for it. Maybe my goals will change form, becoming larger or smaller as circumstances dictate. But I will never stop working for what I want. I will never let rejections kill my dream.

Stress Relief

I have had a very stressful and upsetting past couple of days. I'd kind of been crying off and on for most of Thursday and Friday. Friday night I had a rehearsal. As I drove the 45 minutes by myself, I cried some more. (And the fact that I had makeup on was the only thing that kept me from completely dissolving into tears.)

I knew I needed to leave my outside troubles outside. Not the easiest thing to do. Before the rehearsal started, I felt ready to work but still rather depressed.

Once I got on stage, though... Ah, this is why I do what I do! The real world falls away. It's my character and the world of the play. I thought it might be difficult to focus or be in character when I was so upset. Not a bit. (If anything, it might have been easier.)

"Playing pretend" was my greatest joy since I was a little kid. And it still is. I felt so much better for having been someone else for a couple hours. I felt so much better for having a productive and creative rehearsal.

I have theatre to keep me sane. I don't know what I'd do without it.

Turning

I told a fellow cast member (our dance captain and the best dancer in the show) that I'm not very good at turns. Turns require strength, coordination, balance and technique (i.e. spotting). I'm okay with simple turns, maybe an occasional single pirouette. Probably the biggest reason I'm not good at turning is that I have never learned to spot effectively. (And that probably comes from not actually taking dance classes.)

Tonight the choreographer asked me to do three chainé turns in a section of the dance. Chainé turns I can do — more or less. But I'll definitely need to practice them. And she asked me whether I could do pirouettes. I said, "I'm learning. I can do a single; I can't do a double." (And I don't think I could learn to do a clean, consistent double before the show.)

Time to practice my turning. And time to learn how to spot.

A Professional Level

I got a comment on my Facebook from our former accompanist, who said, "you're always so professional, prepared, and ready to get right to work." It's absolutely true, but it still makes me feel good. It's nice to know my efforts are noticed. I really feel a difference in myself. Since I really set my mind to performing professionally, I realized that one thing I could do right now was to start behaving as though I already am. It may be "just" community theatre, but that's no reason for me not to work as hard at it as possible. I've made it a point to be attentive, know my lines, etc.

I also need to find an opportunity to talk to the director and tell him I don't mind being pushed. I think there's a natural (and appropriate) inclination in community theatre to let a good performance go without much criticism. But, really, I would like to make a good performance into a great performance. I'm willing to hear more constructive criticism and be pushed and challenged. I want to take my game to the next level.

And a random off-topic comment: I've been practicing my poi lately. I really want to spin fire again this summer. Also, poi is a unique special skill that's neat on my performance resume.

Casting News

I got cast as Martha Jefferson in 1776.

Also, my husband got cast as Edward Rutledge, and a good friend got cast as the Courier.

It Goes Both Ways

At Sunday's rehearsal for Annie, I felt extremely frustrated, leading me to feel very cranky. I was upset over the inefficiency of rehearsal (due to a combination of the way it was structured and people not knowing their material). I griped to my friends about how irritating the rehearsal was. After rehearsal, I made a polite request to the director that we make time for the one song that we never seem to get to. I complained on the way home. And then I decided to let it go, stop being so annoyed and find more patience and an easy-going attitude.

And then, once I wasn't wallowing in frustration I realized that while I was upset over other people being what I thought was unprofessional ... my attitude was just as unprofessional (and possibly moreso). Now I feel embarrassed and ashamed.

Moving on. I'm looking forward to rehearsal tonight to redeem Sunday (both in terms of rehearsal itself and in terms of my attitude).

Outgrowing Community Theatre?

Well, I'm cranky today ... for a number of reasons. And I'm not going to get into the major reasons. This is my theatre blog, though, so I will talk about my theatre-related crankiness. (Shocking that the thing I love so much can make me cranky!)

I auditioned yesterday for 1776. Only two women's roles in the whole show. It's far away, but I think it would be a relatively fun show to do. And Adam and Jeff auditioned, so I could possibly do a show with my husband and a friend, which would be nice. I think I did a good job, and I'm not desperate to be cast in this show — so on the whole, I feel pretty comfortable. But ... I feel discontent. Am I becoming complacent? Am I getting into that rut I've feared of only auditioning for community theatre shows and not reaching beyond? I worry that I'm being egotistical or deluded when I think "I am so much better than this! I deserve more than just hoping to be cast in community theatre!" But I don't think I am either cocky or insane. I think I've kind of outgrown standard community theatre.

And it's not because of talent. There are a lot of very talented people in community theatre (and some moderately and some not-so talented people).

It's because of how seriously I take it. Here's the current situation that has been happening recently. The cast has a rehearsal to learn the dance. They get it down pretty well. Then a week or so later, we do that same number. They've all forgotten the dance. So the choreographer has to teach it again. They get it down. Then at the next rehearsal, the dance is forgotten again. The choreographer teaches the steps yet again. Meanwhile, I stand there patiently and politely (because I'm not in this dance, though I'm onstage singing).

Last night, after learning the same dance for the third or fourth time, we moved on to a dance (that I am in) that we had done only once before. Some of us were practicing the dance while we were on break, and they said, "Ooh, Kristin's got it!" I said, "Well, I practiced it." They looked at me as though I'd grown an extra head. Seriously, I don't have some kind of magical talent unavailable to the rest of the cast. I go through my dance steps a couple times a week. Simple. It doesn't take that long. So I work on my stuff, and then find myself among people who haven't thought about the dance since the last rehearsal and then wonder why they've forgotten it. At 9:27 the choreographer said, "Let's go through this a couple more times." A cast member said, "It's 9:30. Rehearsal is over." If you're so desperate to leave, why are you there?

I love theatre so much. I care about doing as good a job as I can. So I put work into learning my lines and my dancing and my music and being professional and attentive during rehearsal. I long to be with other people who take it as seriously as I do and who care as much as I do.

The Fairest Rejection

Several months ago, I had responded to a call for resumes/headshots for a summer production of Man of La Mancha (for a local professional theatre company that occasionally hires Equity actors in addition to non-Equity actors). My voice teacher said, "Oh, they'll definitely at least see you (for an audition)." But I never got called in for an audition.

Yesterday, I decided to see who will be playing Aldonza. It's Emily Skinner. I guess if you have a Tony nominee, you don't need to see local actresses for the role! Ha!

Losing Weight

Today I had yet another person say to me, "Have you lost weight? You look so skinny!" I've heard that so many times that I think it must be true.

That makes me feel good for two reasons: One, I've lost weight. Yay! Two, I maintain a very healthy attitude about my body/weight. If I were obsessive about dieting or my weight, when people asked me that question, I'd say "Yes" — and probably know exactly how much weight I had actually lost. Instead, I don't even own a scale. I think I've been eating healthier in general ... but I still eat ice cream regularly. And I've been exercising more — though not for the sake of exercise. I've been stretching, doing sit-ups and push-ups, and taking dance class, plus rehearsals for Annie. That keeps me pretty active.

And that's exactly how I like it! Losing weight through doing things I love (dancing, etc.) and not working at it! Because, honestly, being a few pounds overweight, I'd rather be happy eating things I love and not working out than obsessing over trying to obtain an impossible body image.

What Don't I Know?

Last night I was talking to Chris Bohjalian. He was telling me about his upcoming books, and I said to him, "I can't imagine how much research you do! Do you do a lot of research?" He said, "I do a ton of research."

And then he said, "I never get writer's block. If I don't know what to write, it's just a sign that I don't know enough about what I'm doing. So I go talk to somebody who knows more than I do about a topic." [emphasis mine]

How easily that idea can be taken from writing and applied to goals at large! If I get stuck, maybe it's a sign that I don't know enough about what I'm doing or where I'm trying to go.

Letting go of bitterness

Last night I went to see Godspell, which, of course, I had auditioned for and not been cast in. One of my major goals recently has been to let go of bitterness and resentment. And so I was only very mildly annoyed while watching the show.

How easy it is to let go of bitterness has something to do with desire and desperation. Godspell wasn't the only possibility I had for a show, and, in fact, I got the rejection call as I was driving home from an excellent audition for Annie (which I did get cast in). Knowing that I'm happily cast in a show makes it much easier. Also, Godspell was in no way a dream show for me. Actually, I don't like the show that much. I think auditioning for it was as much a desire for validation as it was for wanting to perform in the show.

And that's something significant I've discovered about bitterness and resentment. How closely it is linked to insecurity! Feeling confident gives me the ability to say "It's their loss" — in a way that's neither cocky nor deluded. Feeling confident in my talent makes me better able to let go of bitterness and resentment because I see how getting cast (or not) in a community theatre production has nothing to do with who I am or how good I am. I am about more than community theatre casting. I am destined for bigger and more interesting things than any individual show.

Ogunquit Playhouse auditions

I suppose today would count as my first audition for professional musical theatre. So regardless of the outcome and how I did, I am thrilled. I got my first one under my belt. I'm getting out there and actually giving it a try. My plan is to start auditioning and build to a point where I'm auditioning more and more frequently (and thus justifying a possible move).

They requested 32 bars of an uptempo song. The season is Fiddler on the Roof, High School Musical, My Fair Lady, The Producers and Les Miserables, so the request seemed a little odd. But I picked out 32 bars in consultation with my voice teacher. We settled on the last 32 bars of "Here I Am" from Dirty Rotten Scoundrels.

I typically get nervous in a vocal audition. More specifically, my nerves are unpredictable. I can feel nervous before and fine while auditioning or fine before and nervous once I start singing. The audition went something like this:

Ah, the way to be to me is French (Okay.)
The way they c'est la vie is French (Hey, I'm feeling pretty good!)
So here I am... (What the hell is the piano player doing?!?!?!) Beaumont sur Mer
A big two weeks on the Riviera (Where am I? I have no idea what's going on with this song.)
If I'm only dreaming please don't wake me. (Tempo is back. Now what are those notes he's playing?!)
Let the summer sun and breezes take me (Oh, god, this is bad. Please get me through this.)
Excuse me if I seem jejeune. (I feel totally thrown off and nervous. I started out so confident.)
I promise I'll find my marbles soon. (They can see how totally uncomfortable I am.)
But everywhere I look (Accompanist, what are you doing?!)
It's like a scene from a book. (I don't think that's right...)
Open the book and here I am. (Was I off tempo there or was he?)

And that was less than 16 bars! They asked me to start again. The second time wasn't really any better. But it was a valiant and desperate attempt on my part to plow through the song and ignore the piano. Rather than the accompaniment, the guy was playing bass chords. "Bong. Bong. Bong. Bong." (The piano player was causing problems for everyone, and the audition team knew it.)

They did not ask me to sing another song. (Too bad. I would have loved to have done a legit piece.) They did, however, ask me to read. So, I take that as a sign that my audition was fairly successful all things considered.

So, in my quest to pursue an acting career and to learn from my experiences, here's what I got from today:

• I went to my first audition for professional musical theatre. Yay!
• I have more control over my (often uncontrollable) nerves than I do over things like the competency of the piano player.
• Just go with the flow.
• Simple is probably best when it comes to audition songs. And sticking with my gut instinct on what type of song to sing (legit) is also probably a good idea.
• You can't prepare for everything. Some things (like the accompaniment issue today) are just going to blind-side me. I'll have to figure out a way to adapt more quickly. Until then, my best bet is just to not freak out and beat myself up over it.
• I just need to audition more, so I can get better at it.

The end. :)

A Learning Experience

Yesterday I auditioned at the NETC auditions.

What is the value of an experience? Is its value measured only by its outcome? I think not. I learned a lot, and that alone was valuable. Notes from the weekend:

• I was under-prepared. My monologues were memorized, and I think I performed them well. But it would have gone better if my memorization were more solid and if I'd delved deeper into the monologues.
  
• I had time called on me. I was just a short sentence away from finishing, but I had to stop. That was embarrassing, but I was confident in the knowledge that I couldn't have been the first (or last) person who had that happen. I should have done a better job of timing out the monologues.
  
• I got pretty nervous, and my mouth was dry. I think the reason for my nervousness had nothing to do with desire for a certain outcome and everything to do with the newness and bigness of the situation. I still need to learn how to handle my nerves and be more confident.
  
• Everyone seemed the same in a way. The average age was young. There were a lot of college students there. But I would include myself in that sameness. There were a ton of thin, pretty, brunette white girls who could play 20s. There were some minorities and different ages or body types, but not a lot.
  
• There were a lot of serious performers there who had auditioned to get into their serious prestigious acting programs and some of whom had professional gigs under their belts. I tried my best to not feel insignificant or intimidated. (And I think I did that pretty well.)
  
• There were some good regional theatres there auditioning for their seasons — but they were, for the most part, in the musical theatre audition room.
  
• Some of the ones in the acting-only room were auditioning for people to join their $100/week elementary-school tour of Jack and the Beanstalk. (That's not a specific example and is a bit of hyperbole.) It's not really that I'd look down on a gig like that. I wouldn't. (Hey, I'm coming from community theatre.) But I couldn't afford to take a gig like that, even if it were offered. College students have a definite advantage here because they're more likely to be able to actually take some of these offers.
  
• I got called back by two theatres. Both were educational-type tours. And they both seemed interesting. I don't know whether I could afford to take them. But I don't need to worry about that until and unless I am actually offered a job.
  

Making Sure to Take the Next Step

It's been a while since I've updated this blog — and to a certain extent, I've been slacking in terms of my real world acting-career progress as well. I was very sick for a week ... blah, blah, blah. It gets so easy to make excuses.

So I find myself in March. It's been six months since I lost my job. It's been two and a half months since the new year began. What do I have to show for it? Some auditions that resulted in rejections. An audition (for Annie) that resulted in my getting the part (Grace) I wanted. Continuing with my voice lessons and dance class. I'm making progress in those areas. But am I making enough progress? It's hard to judge. I don't want to beat myself up over a pursuit that can be abusive enough as it is. I don't want to get complacent, either, and think that a moderate effort is enough.

VATTA auditions (Vermont combined auditions for maybe 20 theatre, film and commercial producers) were March 1. I was registered. And then I ended up getting sick. I couldn't prepare for the auditions, and on the day of, I was still too sick to perform.

This weekend is the NETC auditions. I applied (with the required fee) and waited to see if I would receive an audition slot. I didn't get one for musical theatre (what I really wanted), but I did get one for acting-only. Maybe this was meant to be. I'll audition ... and who knows?

I want a professional acting career — and one of the biggest steps toward that goal is to actually audition for professional theatre (instead of just community theatre). I'm taking my first major step (other than a Vermont Stage audition) into this world!

Compliments

How do we manage to keep realistic perspectives on our own talent? Creating that balance seems to me to be one of the most difficult aspects of an actor's life.

I've known my share of egotistical actors, people who think they're better than everyone else. And maybe they are more talented. But that doesn't excuse diva attitudes. Or, if actors aren't full of themselves, they're insecure and fearful that they're not very good. (I've been the second, and I hope I never have been or will be the first.)

What is the value of a compliment? At auditions for Annie, I remarked to someone how his father and his voice teacher (who is my voice teacher as well) are always bragging about him. He said, "Well, I don't want to get a big head." I said that I believe compliments should be passed on. If I hear something good about someone, I don't think that should remain secret. A compliment can fall like drops of rain on parched soil.

If we hear nothing but compliments and never a word of criticism, that's when (improperly inflated) egos can develop. Nobody is ever perfect. And I don't want to be fooled into thinking I'm good enough to stop working on my craft. I want to know where I can develop my skills further.

But if we haven't heard a compliment in a while ... oh! how good that feels to receive one! The really good kind, too. Not a friend saying "I think you're good. You have talent." Of course they say that; they're your friends. But when it comes from a stranger or from someone with a critical or professional perspective, that can mean more. Or maybe it's the kind of compliment that's phrased in just the right way to be joyfully reassuring.

I have received certain compliments that I treasure, and I return to them when I need reassurance. When I get rejected from a show or feel less talented than I would like, I remember the person who said I should be singing professionally or the voice teacher (not mine) who said I sounded great (or other, similar compliments). But still, fresh compliments are always better (and more elating).

I received a few really good compliments while auditioning for Annie. Outside of the whole audition process and what it means, etc., etc., that just made me feel so happy. It's interesting: I thought I had a great audition for Godspell, and I did. But now that I think on it, I realize I didn't actually receive any compliments on my audition. Does that mean I wasn't good? Certainly not. I was good. But I wasn't cast. If I did receive a compliment, it was of the tossed-off "great job" variety.

I want compliments to be meaningful. That goes for compliments I give and forward as well as those I receive. I'm not in the habit of telling people they did a great job acting or singing if I don't believe it. When I give a compliment, I want people to know I'm giving it with my whole heart. It's more meaningful that way.

When I give (or repeat) a compliment, it's because I want you to hear it, because I believe you deserve it and deserve to hear it — and because I want you to take it and water whatever dry part of your confidence needs it. I will take compliments with gratitude and grace. And while I might forget some of them, I will take the most special compliments and cherish them.

A friend said to me today, "It's so great that now you're so talented that nobody can deny that. Even if they don't cast you, they can't say you're not talented. And they can't take that talent away from you."

It is because of regular (though not huge or overwhelming) receipt of compliments and reassurances from friends, colleagues, strangers and myself that I am finally finding myself able to fully believe in my talent (and not in an egotistical way). The value of that is a) finding myself — astonishingly — better able to cope with audition nerves and b) not let casting rejections get me down (as much).

A Great Audition

The hardest thing for me — and for many performers — is to conjure up a sense of confidence while feeling vulnerable and needy. Desperation — to be cast ... to have a validation of talent ... to not face rejection yet again — can turn me into a quivering, warbling mess.

I auditioned tonight for Godspell. I want to get in. I think I'm good enough. I want that validation, and I don't want to be rejected. ... But aside from those feelings, which I can never completely dismiss, my audition was about two things: 1) having fun and 2) believing in my talent regardless of the specific outcome.

It was helpful that I was auditioning for a welcoming theatre company, not a cliquey one. And the production team is specifically looking for people who can work well as a group and be free from ego. I also was there with one of my best friends, which helped me have more fun.

They invited people to sing songs from the show other than the specific audition piece at the end of the night. So I sang a song I wanted to sing. I messed it up (because it was my first time singing it other than with the CD and the counting was tough), but I didn't stress out about it. And then I blew the roof off with the high A that ends the song!

Remember that high G that I used to be worried about? This is a full step higher. And I hit it in full, strong voice with no problem. My voice lessons have paid off. (And my voice teacher says I regularly sing to a C or C# and vocalize to an F above high C. So G's and A's should be nothing to worry about.)

I'll find out Friday or Saturday whether I got in. I'm crossing my fingers. And I hope that this audition sets the stage for a great audition for Annie on Saturday.

My Thoughts ... in a Song

I found this song while browsing around on YouTube. The guy who wrote it (Scott Alan) has channeled thousands of musical theatre performers. It's like he plucked the words right out of my head and created a song. Amazing!

Live a Little Bit More

Frank Sinatra supposedly said of Judy Garland that she died a little bit inside each time she sang; that's how much she gave to each song. I understand his point, but ...

I would rather live a little bit more each time I sing. I'd like to find a richer experience, a fuller life each time I sing. I want to be more alive, to have feeling enough for two lives. If somebody could one day say of me "She lived a little bit more each time she sang; that's how much she gave to each song" I would consider it the highest compliment.

Action: Submitting?

This notion of submitting is new to me. In community theatre, they hold open auditions. You just show up and audition. Occasionally, you might need to sign up for a time slot in advance.

So, I've sent out several submissions — photos and resumes, essentially. If I clear that first hurdle, then I'll get invited to audition.

• StrawHat Auditions (large, "combined" auditions for non-Equity performers for summer stock, regional theatre, etc.)


• NETC Auditions (same as above)


• A professional (Equity and non-Equity) Vermont production of Man of La Mancha


• A SAG Indie film shooting in Illinois this summer

We'll see if any of these things develop further!

Moving On

So, I got the expected rejection call yesterday. That brings with it the usual mix of emotions and confusion. "They're a bunch of idiots who don't recognize talent and only cast the same old people." (True.) Or: "If I can't even get cast in community theatre, how can I hope to make it professionally?" (Less true, based on the truth of the previous statement. Still, I can't always stop the insecure part of my brain from thinking it.)

I made up my mind never to audition for this company again. This has two advantages. First, I immediately feel my sanity return. No more getting my hopes up or thinking things might be different when they never are. What a relief to never waste my time or emotion on them again. Second, I finally felt emboldened to use a line I've long wanted to use. When they said they were "unable" to offer me a part, I said "Unable? I'm sorry. I thought the production team had control over casting." The woman who called said, "They do." I said, "But you just said you were 'unable' to cast me. You know, you reject me; that's fine. But I'd appreciate it if you had the balls to stand behind your decision." Haha! I'm not big on burning bridges, but that one felt so right. (And for the record, the lead went to the producer's daughter. Quelle suprise.)

Now I pick myself up and move on. And here's the hard part: How? Do I really? I've said I'm going to "aggressively pursue" an acting career in 2008. So far, action on that has been auditioning for a community theatre show and having my headshots taken (still unedited). Not good. I ask myself: What's standing in my way? What's preventing me from moving deliberately, aggressively and promptly? Why do I drag my feet? Is it laziness and fear? Or is there something else stopping me? I can't think of what that something else would be. Laziness and fear are enough. They are insidious and can eat away at all of my good intentions.

So... I'm not going to beat myself up over not having done "enough" in the first two weeks of 2008. I can't change the past. All I can do is change my future behaviors. My vow: I refuse to let laziness or fear destroy my dreams!

Feeling like a Fool

I feel like a fool. First of all, for being naive enough to think that this time things would be different and that this time the audition process would be fair. Second of all, for being so emotional and upset.

I was crying quite a bit. But I've recovered somewhat. I'm angry, but I'm also ready to move on. And what is it they say about success being the best revenge?

I've had it with the cliques and the stupidity. I'm through with trying to get into such a ridiculous organization. All they are is big. They're not good. They don't cast based on talent.

I know it all sounds a little bit like sour grapes. But I'm through. I deserve respect even if I don't get cast. So for my own sanity, I've got to call it quits with getting my hopes up that this organization, which always disrespects me, will suddenly treat me with respect.

A friend has repeatedly offered this advice: "If you don't trust them to reject you, don't trust them to direct you." Meaning if by rejecting you they would show an appalling lack of recognition for talent, they're not the kind of people you want to have directing you anyway. I'm beginning to see how wise that advice is. I had previously said I'd accept any role. And I would have had no problem with playing a small role. What I would have a problem with is playing background to someone who is distinctly less talented than I am. They probably won't even offer me a chorus role. If they do, I don't think I would want to take it.

Inspiration!

I have been putting myself in a good mental place by reviewing these thoughts and these thoughts and similar words of wisdom from acting/auditioning books, etc.

Then I thought how nice it would be to compile all those healthy productive thoughts in one place. (My own words and interpretations, though, not other people's work.) And then I thought how nice it would be to "illustrate" them with nice lettering and decorative borders. It can be in two formats: a small, portable book to look through as needed and art pieces to hang on a wall or put near a mirror.

This is a great way to combine my love of acting and my art. First I plan to do this for myself. Then, assuming the results are as good as I hope, I can sell books/prints. It would be perfect for so many actors.

What I Want

One of the columnists on Backstage.com had a new year's column about pursuing what you really want from a career. Fame and fortune, a movie career and Academy Award are the stereotypical dream. And that's a dream that's not right for everyone. So, what do you really want?

Me? I want a career on the stage. I want to be in musicals and plays (both).

Sure, Broadway is the ultimate dream. But I just want to be a regularly working actor. I want to be in rehearsals during the day, not at night after my "real" job. I want to be in a tour or in regional theatres, summer stock or dinner theatre. I want to have as many opportunities as I can to work on my craft, to grow as an actor, to improve as a singer. I want to not feel guilty or like I'm an impostor if I call myself an actor. I want to surround myself with other talented people and learn from them.

I just want to be doing it. I want to be acting as a career. I don't care if I'm a gypsy. I don't care if I'm not a star and "only" in a small role. I just want to be acting and singing on stage professionally.

2008

I'm not normally the type of person to make New Year's resolutions. After all, what is the new year, really? It's a new day. New days happen all the time. If you really want to change your life, you'll do it at any time. I quit smoking on June 20, a date with no special meaning. I didn't even have my last cigarette at midnight. So nothing about the timing was important. What mattered was that I made up my mind to do it. And I did it.

So, as I look forward to 2008, I find myself making resolutions for the first time. 1) to aggressively pursue opportunities to further my acting career, 2) to practice my voice lessons at least once between lessons, 3) to be more physically active and improve my dance skills.

All of these are resolutions related to my acting career. And, I suppose that is my first subconscious change: to think of it as an acting career. True, I'm not making money on it (yet). But I've started to think of it as a career, even when it's community theatre and local classes.

My dance class and voice lessons are professional development. I call myself an actor and singer and try to avoid saying things like, "I want to be an actor/singer." I am those things! I'm also learning to stop feeling apologetic about acting. Here's something I had written last March:

I've been asked twice in the past week, "What is it you want to do?" And I say, "Well, I really want to be an actor..." I've realized that when I say that, I sound apologetic. Why am I apologizing? Maybe for two reasons: 1) It's that acting is not a "real" job mentality. We all have to work for a living. We don't like to work. We don't like our jobs. Why should I be so special? I guess part of me feels like I've answered the question with "Well, I really want to be rich and just shop all day." 2) It's like I'm crazy. It's the knowledge that it's so difficult to "make it," even with talent. It's slightly embarrassed for having such an impossible dream. Like I'd answered the question with "Well, I really want to found a colony on Mars." Oookay then, Kristin. You go ahead and do that. And it's that self-conscious feeling that I don't have enough talent to do it.

So, enough with being embarrassed. Enough with feeling like the odds are too long or my talent is too small. It's time for me to aggressively pursue whatever options I can.

Adam will be taking my headshot tomorrow. That's a very important thing to do for my career goals.