Cast at last...

I had an audition this past weekend. I didn't mention it because, while I enjoy being honest, my tenuous grip on my self-esteem requires that I not broadcast all of my failures. But it was a good audition. And my work paid off. I got cast.

But I wasn't thrilled. I wasn't disappointed either. I was just hesitant.

The production is Twelfth Night, which I think I mentioned everyone is doing right now, and the part is Maria. I just think this is an odd choice. Not necessarily bad, just odd. This is not how I would cast myself in this particular play. But, of course, casting wasn't my job. And I do trust that there was a reason that makes complete sense for the choice, I just can't see it.

After the initial shock, I thought about it. The last show I was in I played a part that was perfect for my "type" (which is a four letter word, indeed). The show wasn't good, I wasn't great, and, were it not for my determination to maintain a positive attitude, the whole thing would've been a bad experience. A few shows ago I got cast in another part I didn't think I'd ever play. And it was awesome. I felt like maybe I should stop worrying about it and embrace it. After all, learning to see yourself in a different light can be liberating. Or, at the very least, educational. Plus, this is a wonderful opportunity to work on my wonderful comedy skills. Mad comedy skills, I tell you. So, while I think it's a weird choice, I'm going to go with it. And my Twitter friends seem to agree with this choice, so it must be a good one.

I think the most damaging lesson I learned in theatre school was about "type." Because, frankly, "type" is crap. And it is really not helpful to most of us. And it's a lazy, lousy way to cast a show. Sure, it's important to know how other people are going to view you when you walk into an audition, but this knowledge can also make it far too easy to pigeon hole yourself. And really, you don't know what anyone is thinking the first time they see you. I was told I'm an ingenue. I didn't like it. I learned to embrace it. And I've been cast against it 75% of the time since. So is this really helpful? I'm skeptical.

But every weird opportunity that comes your way is probably just another opportunity for growth. And, of course, for the making of new theatre friends. I will keep you all posted on how it goes--read through this weekend, wish me the best!

What "classics" will this moment in history create?

If you have any interest in arts or culture (and I assume that since you're here you do), you should read this post at The Williamsburg Yorktown Daily. It is written to an American public, but I think it has universal appeal. After all, what with Obama-mania hitting Ottawa today (and the White House liveblogging about it), it is our moment here in Canada, too. And throughout much of the world. Change. What will emerge out of this moment in history? And what will each of us contribute to it?

I have been plotting my contributions for some time. I don't have an answer yet. But I feel as if I'm on the verge of something.

Not having the internet is incredibly frustrating.

Well, I think the blog post says it all. It's been a theme this month. For which I apologize because, as themes go, it isn't terribly interesting. It's taking me some time to get into the rhythm of my new life--the one without a 9 to 5 job. Most days it's wonderful, but it can also be boring. It's a work in progress--isn't everything?

Not having the internet at my fingertips has really made me consider how dependent on it we have become--I don't think it's just me, although I certainly am. My late night Google urges have gone unsatisfied. I no longer have easy access to Google Reader or The Globe and Mail online (pro: the library has the paper version, which I actually have a greater appreciation for, even if it leaves inkstains on my fingers). I feel a little bit like I'm losing my mind without it all. And then as soon as I get online, I am so overwhelmed by everything that after 15 minutes I can't take anymore. And yet it doesn't seem like I'm terribly motivated to deal with the lack of access at my apartment. Clearly, or I would be hooked up by now. So, while I miss it like an addict does their substance of choice, I must be enjoying the disconnect at least a little bit, right? After all, I've been through two books in the last two weeks (one having been the 700-odd page tome that is Harold Blooms's Shakespeare: The Invention of the Human), time I normally would have spent surfing the web instead. This is the silver lining.

So my question for all of you out there is what would you do with all the time you spend on the internet if you didn't have the internet to spend it on?

Question...

Why does it seem that everyone is producing Twelfth Night this spring/summer? I have no objections, I am just curious. I have seen audition notices for at least six upcoming productions, and today the NY Times announced that Anne Hathaway will be playing Viola in the Shakespeare in the Park production of the same this summer.

I have no objections, I am just curious--why this play now? Thoughts, anyone?

News Update.

I am still behind on blogging. I've accepted it. It will be solved when it's solved. And that's all I can do about it for the moment.

That being said, it is frustrating to be behind in the conversation. I've been doing my best to keep up on the news, but I am clearly still missing bits and pieces. Mainly, I mean the conversation on the Canada Prizes for the Arts and Creativity. The conversation gets ever more interesting over at Praxis and MK at One Big Umbrella has alerted me to these two great articles (here and here) in The Globe and Mail. The whole thing grows sketchier by the second--particularly in the way the whole thing appears to have been proposed, using what seems to be false information to make it appear more legitimate (and more embraced by Canadian artists) than it actually is, to date. But Aaron at Tracking Righteousness really seems to get it--that what the Government failed to grasp when throwing all those dollars at the "artistic community" is that we aren't looking for a handout, we're looking for a little respect.

And, completely unrelated to that debate, I find this article to be inspiring--"A Pounding Patriotic Heartbeat and Scent of Gold." About the upcoming Vancouver 2010 Olympics and the impact on our nation. From yesterday's Globe and Mail. Refreshing.

One Year. The Countdown Begins.

Tomorrow we will be one year away from the Opening Ceremonies of the Vancouver 2010 Olympics. I, for one, am very excited. I am not a huge sports fan (except for hockey), I am not an athlete, I am not even an Olympic nut (I don't much care for the summer games). But there is something really cool about the Winter Olympics coming to Canada. And I am going to celebrate it. Sadly, I only have 4:12 left on my library computer, which is not enough time to link, but there are lots of events happening across the country tomorrow in honour of the One Year mark. I'm sure if you live in Vancouver, you won't be able to avoid them. If you live in Toronto, the festivities are down at Nathan Phillips Square from noon till 2:00. Anywhere else, you will have to Google. And you should, if you can. Because the Olympics are a pretty amazing show. And because this is an opportunity to display your patriotism, your pride in being Canadian. And to let everyone else on the planet know that we look forward to hosting you, just 365 days to go.

A monologue, a read, and a non-starter: just another week in my life.

I've been off the blogging for the last week or so because I no longer spend eight hours a day in front of a computer. There are approximately 437 unread posts, no exaggeration, in my Google reader. I feel out of touch, disconnected. I no longer know what the conversation is about because 15-30 minutes a day on the internet is not enough time to figure it out. These are the time limits imposed by the library and the demand for their limited number of computers. Yes, I have to go to the library to get online, which I have never actually had to do in the past. All I will say is that it's an interesting venue for the mid-day character study, the best to date having been a small, well-dressed woman with fuschia lipstick ranting about the wrongfully convicted rotting in prison while their exonerating files lay neglected in the bottoms of recycling bins nationwide. "What else is in those recycling bins?" None of this is terribly conducive to either blogging or to staying informed (I missed the memo on Wrecking Ball the other night, too).


The silver lining is that instead of typing I've been outside enjoying the rare winter sunshine. My new day job involves dogs and the great outdoors--a pretty sweet gig, I must say. I also went to the Air Canada Centre for the first time this past weekend to see the Toronto Rock play. Apparently they're our lacrosse team. Who knew. I've also been getting myself as organized as I am capable of being for more than a week at a time. And, of course, I've been auditioning. I had three this past week, which left little time for other things. Especially since I decided to try being prepared for a change. So now that it's over, here is how it all went down:


Audition #1, Tuesday morning:


This was the one I really, really wanted. Great part, good for the resume, and a paying gig to boot. Ideal. I actually felt like I might have a shot at it, too. Until I got there, which is when my self-confidence deflated like a big balloon, spluttering sounds and all.


I woke up early and nervous on Tuesday morning. I hadn't slept well but I was excited and determined to stick to the pre-audition routine I had plotted for myself in the days before. Taking the TTC to this audition was an expedition, but I had timed it perfectly so I wouldn't have to sit in the waiting room longer than ten, maybe fifteen, minutes. I did not, of course, take into account that the audition might be running really late. Like forty-five minutes late. Which was especially bad because I was the third person scheduled for the morning and the first still hadn't gone in. These things happen, I know. But to borrow from last week's episode of Being Erica, auditioning makes me feel like I'm the only kid in a room full of grown ups. And the waiting room is worse. I always feel like I don't belong there, like I shouldn't be there. There is a subtle type of psychological warfare that occurs in quiet rooms crammed with actresses all auditioning for the same part. I don't think it's meant to be malicious, it's just what happens with all that nervous energy in one place. I try not to get sucked into it, generally unsuccessfully. This one definitely got the better of me.


Eventually I did make it into the audition room, every iota of my small store of self-confidence having been eroded by those forty-five minutes in a folding chair. The director, who I had met before and liked, asked how I was and I told him "petrified." I am nothing if not honest. And I find that admitting to nerves is better than pretending not to have them. So he put me a bit more at ease and I did my monologue (oh, how I loathe audition monologues). It was okay. My nerves still got the better of me and the monologue is still newer to me than I'd care to admit. Mr. Director was good enough to go through it with me a second time and to work on it, which made me feel worlds better. The second time is always better. Because by the second time it feels like a rehearsal, a process, not an audition. And I like rehearsing, I like the process. I do not like auditioning. It literally makes me physically ill. I'm a good actress, I have even been known to have the occasional flashes of brilliance. In rehearsal. In performance. Not in auditions. Auditions are my kryptonite.


But I kept my game face on and did my best under the circumstances and actually even almost had fun. It was by far the most honest audition I have done to date. And then, in about ten minutes, it was done. I left knowing I wasn't going to get the part. But I'm glad I went. Because part or no part, it was a productive audition. And it made me consider more about how I audition. I consider it to have been a personal success.


Audition #2, Tuesday afternoon:


When I got this audition I was really excited because it sounded like a good, steady gig. Until I started to think about it more. It was going to take up all my time, all my productive time, anyway, and it didn't seem like it was going to be much of a resume builder. So I went in feeling awkward because I was fairly certain I wasn't going to accept a part if one was offered. It just didn't seem like the best fit for this moment in my life. I did decide to audition, though, because I figured they deserved the benefit of the doubt. Maybe I was just being close-minded. I went to see what they were about (after an intense debate with myself on the issue). I considered bailing after Audition #1 due to exhaustion. I know they've done studies on the amount of energy expended by actors in performance. I don't remember the details exactly, but it's something akin to running nonstop for hours. I wonder what a similar study on actors auditioning would show? I imagine we use more energy auditioning than performing. As soon as I figure out the best way to test my hypothesis, I will let you know.


Being a big girl, I dragged myself to the audition, which is way off my beaten track, only to then spend fifteen minutes searching for a hidden door. I am positive that this is a sign I should just go home. But I persist. Because I am being a big girl. Finally, I find it and go in and immediately I know I should have gone with my instincts. They were nice and nothing was wrong, per se, it was just the vibes I got from the minute I walked in the door. My suspicions that it was a day job masquerading as an acting gig were confirmed. But at that point I was trapped in yet another waiting room (by myself this time) with no hope of escape. In my endless attempt to remain positive, I figured it would at least make for good audition experience.


Alas, this was not to be. As soon as I got there I filled out the typical "audition info" sheet--you know, phone number, conflicts, etc. In the spirit of honesty, I listed three conflicts: two of them on weekends, all in the late spring, and all important family events. Well, apparently this was a huge problem. HUGE. After consulting calendars and schedules for another fifteen minutes, the man in charge finally decided to see me. I really couldn't have cared less at this point. I mostly wanted to go home and eat some soup. But into the audition room I went, sat down on the special audition chair, and he changed his mind. I was interrogated further on these alleged "conflicts." Hadn't we discussed the commitment required on the phone? We had indeed, but he had made it sound like a Monday to Friday commitment. I was in no way aware that it involved sacrificing my weekends. And I was certainly not under the impression that one Saturday four months from now was going to be cause enough not to cast me. Frankly, if this was an indication of the working environment, count me out. I was taught always to err on the side of my life. Of having one, that is. I took this as a golden opportunity to get out. Although I think I did it graciously enough not to have burned any bridges. So Audition#2 was a non-audition. But sometimes auditions are also about finding out who you do or do not want to work with.


Reflections before the final push:


After my adventures on Tuesday I went home and thought a lot about the day. I thought about why I feel I don't audition well, why I don't like auditioning, and what I can do to improve the situation. Because, while it is an unfortunate reality, it is a reality. And I don't like it because I don't think I'm very good at it. I sat down and made a list of all the things I don't do well in audition situations. I am happy to say it's a much shorter list than I expected. And everything on it is something I can fix or work on. So, after writing it all down, I decided I will pick one or two things from my list to work on with every audition. And I will keep doing this until I can cross things off the list. With this attitude, I went into Audition #3.


Audition #3, Saturday morning:


This last audition was for a really good part in a play I don't particularly like. It was also, mercifully, a reading from sides. Sides that were actually even available beforehand. That was almost enough to make me cry tears of joy. And, after my reflections on Tuesday, I went in ready, working on breathing well and taking my time. This helped to calm my nerves and to give me focus. I didn't have to waiting-room-it for long, either, and I felt pretty good going in. I would have liked to spend more time preparing the sides, but my other two auditions had sort of gotten in the way of that (since they required monologues that I didn't have prepared, a greater feat...). Still, I think I gave a good reading. And I appreciated that their audition reader was not a total automaton. Yes, I felt like it was a solid audition. Not brilliant, but solid.


And then I didn't get a callback. Which is discouraging. Because I really felt like I was going to get one. I gave a good audition and I just had a feeling. Turns out I was wrong, what are you going to do? And, really, who knows why not? I can't dwell on it and I'm not complaining: it is what it is. But it is disappointing. And I so desperately want to do something. Just about anything.

Shake it off. Here's the thing: auditioning is a big game without many hard and fast rules. You can give a brilliant audition and get nothing. Because they want someone taller. Or shorter. Or older. Or younger. Or skinnier. Or blonde. Or just something you aren't. There is only so much you can control. So, it would follow that your focus should be on controlling what little you can. This is where I've turned mine. And since auditioning makes me incredibly, ridiculously anxious and I can probably count on my fingers and toes every audition I've ever done (and most of which I've landed, which is why rejection is kind of new to me...and which doesn't make me lucky, by the way, because the result is that I don't really know how to deal with it), I have to accept that there is a learning curve. Learning from each one is what I can control. And getting better with every audition. Which I think I am. And I have a plan. It's just a slow and painful process and patience, as it turns out, is not one of my virtues.

But I will keep dragging myself to auditions, I will keep working, I will keep chronicling my adventures here, and sooner or later something will stick...believe it.

The Library.

I am on the express computer at the Toronto Public Library right now. This is an interesting experience, to say the least. I have been neglecting my blog because I lack the internet and because I am actually out in the real world auditioning at the moment. But I thought I'd take a minute to say I miss the internet. And all of you out there in it. Keep it real. I'll be back soon! Like later this week...

The Day The Music Died.

Ritchie Valens

J.P. "The Big Bopper" Richardson

Buddy Holly

Today marks the 50th anniversary of "the day the music died." On this day in 1959, Buddy Holly, J.P. "The Big Bopper" Richardson, and Ritchie Valens died when their plane crashed in an Iowa field. Called "the first rock 'n' roll landmark" by Jim Dawson, a rock historian, it was an event that helped cement rock in the pop culture landscape of the up-and-coming generation. And while the origin of the phrase "the day the music died" may be lost on younger generations today, it is forever embedded in our minds, immortalized in the Don McLean song, "American Pie," that children at my former summer camp begged us to sing at least once every two weeks. Today, we pay our respects.