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.