My first encounter with a previously unknown blog reader.

Thursday night was…funny. It’s a good thing I can laugh at myself, otherwise this whole “being an actor” thing would probably make me cry. Frequently. How very Strasberg that would be…(and I can say that, I bawled my eyes out studied there for long enough…)

I went to my 10:30 PM audition and I really think that the best thing you can possibly do at 10:30 PM in front of people who have been watching countless auditions all day is be fun (well, and good, obviously). It’s called “play,” after all. And fun I am. And fun they were. But my favourite moment was our discussion of my resume (and seeing all my Shakespeare credits highlighted, methinks I probably need to start branching out…) and my latest production, the Twelfth Night…

One of my Twelfth Night castmates had auditioned earlier in the day and told the panel all about the production: the who, what, when, where, and how…but apparently one of them hadn’t been present for this. So Lovely Lady 1 told me to tell Lovely Lady 2 about the show…

Simple enough. I start giving my version of the who, what, when, where, and how, and all of a sudden Lovely Lady 2 gets this look of recognition on her face and blurts out, “OH, YOU’RE A BLOGGER!”

My reaction to this was half laugh, half cringe, a big  wow-someone-is-actually-reading-this (other than Sterling, HI STERLING!) and, “Yes, yes I am…”

So Lovely Lady 1 asks 2 how she knew that. Obviously, because I blogged about playing Maria in Twelfth Night. Which of course made me think about some of the things I blogged about Twelfth Night. And whether or not I should have blogged them…Fortunately, both Lovely Ladies were quite wonderful and fun and therefore this did not become the big awkward fest it might’ve been…

But it did all make me think on my long walk home about what I’m doing here on the interwebs. It’s inevitable that if I keep writing about these things and keep auditioning that I’m going to get “bloganized” (which is “blog” + “recognized” in case you didn’t catch it. Thanks for that, @magicalmudge) now and then. And I’m okay with that. I have a policy about not saying things behind people’s backs that I wouldn’t say to their faces. And obviously The Starving Artist here is only half the story—my half. As is any blog, really…so take it with a grain of salt…

I guess what I’m trying to say is that I started this blog because I was frustrated with what I perceived to be a lack of blogs/real stories about actors just starting out. Especially locally. I wanted to share my journey in the hopes that it might teach other people something and that they, in turn, might teach me something by sharing their stories. So far it’s going reasonably well. Plus, let’s face it, this is cheaper than therapy!

But if my mission is our mutual education (and it is) I think I have a responsibility to my readers (and seriously, if you’re reading, leave me a comment so I can properly say hello, please) and to myself to be as honest about my life as a theatre artist as possible. Because not being honest about the situation is not helpful to any of us. Honesty is educational. And, well, my candour just makes it more fun. But I do promise to do it all in the most fair and respectful way possible because, really, it is only my side of the story and I’m certainly not here to make anyone look and/or feel bad.

In the end, it was a nice audition night. And hopefully it will result in another show, but whether or not it does, it was nice to be reminded (as I frequently am these days) that there are all kinds of great people out there in the Toronto theatre community. And it was also nice to feel just a little more sure of myself, both in the virtual world and in the real one…

Dress-ing the part.

I have another audition tonight. At 10:30. Which is kind of late. But since I don’t function well early in the day, maybe this will be a good thing. I figure it can’t possibly be worse…knock on wood.

This evening’s audition is for yet another Shakespeare play (sensing a theme?). One that I really want to be in some day. Hopefully, you know, now. That would be nice. But we’ll see how this audition goes. Monologue required, but I’m pretty comfortable with mine at this point. I actually even have fun doing it. And hopefully that translates…

But the reason I’m auditioning at 10:30 at night is because they apparently had way more people submit than they originally expected. Which means a lot of competition (although I hate thinking of it that way). Which means making use of every opportunity to distinguish myself and to really make them see me in the play (and hopefully in the part I want). This is something you should do at every audition, but it’s all the more important when you know you’re up against stiff competition. And the beauty of Shakespeare versus all others is that you can probably go in with some idea of what to expect. By which I mean, wear a dress. Or a skirt. Unless you’re a boy. In which case, wear pants. Although, Shakespeare did appreciate cross-dressing…but I digress.

It might sound silly, but if you think about it, most females in Shakespeare (or all of classical theatre, really) didn’t wear pants. Or, at least, they don’t start out wearing pants…I’ll concede that maybe you can get away with it if you’re trying to play Viola or Rosalind or any other heroine who dressed up as a boy. But even those heroines are dressed as women at some point in the play. It baffles me to see actresses at classical auditions wearing jeans. And I have seen it a lot. Yes, there are a lot of modern dress productions (and I love them…) but chances are Juliet, Ophelia, Miranda, Hero, Marina, Perdita, et al. probably still won’t be in pants. Let alone jeans.

It isn’t necessarily wrong and it’s such a small thing, but it just makes it that much easier to see you as an actress in a period play if you help them by wearing a dress. Even Michael Mayer, the director of Spring Awakening on Broadway, once told a class I was in that without fail the women who showed up to audition for him wearing dresses or skirts were always easier to envision within the world of the play. They had a much higher success rate than their pants-wearing counterparts. Ultimately, of course, casting for them was about talent (as it should be). So wearing pants didn’t keep anyone from being cast (because that would be absurd), but wearing a dress actually helped some actresses land the role.

So it’s a small thing and it’s kind of silly, but it’s also really easy. And if it might help to give you an edge (and it certainly won’t hurt you), why wouldn’t you do it? Also, most of Shakespeare’s fun romantic heroines are about 14. And most actresses who play them are not. The right dress or skirt can also help to age you down in a way that jeans never will. Another bonus.

Now the only hard part left, which dress should I wear?

Me in a dress. On set for Film Production Class. I think I’m PAing. Circa 2007.

Update: This was the most on time audition I've ever attended, so I didn't get to wait with/study the masses (Yay!) but I did get to see the girl before me and the one after. And they were both wearing pants. Just saying...

Social awkwardness: I think the internet has robbed me of the ability to function face to face…

Sunday I auditioned. Before noon. For and with a really smart, cool group of individuals. Who know where to find this blog (hi) so I’m not going to talk too much about it, especially since what I’m interested in talking about really has nothing to do with the actual audition. In a nutshell, I managed not to psych myself out, to be present, to participate creatively, and even to have fun. I like them and I really want to know all of them. But I walked away completely frustrated. With myself.

After much thought and a careful cataloguing of all my symptoms, I have diagnosed myself with a serious and persistent case of shrinking violet-itis. And it certainly reared its ugly head at this audition. Which is completely ridiculous and, well, frustrating. Also, it’s completely by my own invention. I’ve discovered a whole new form of self-sabotage for myself.

Basically, what happens to me (and this audition isn’t the only time it’s happened, just the most recent occurrence) is that I come into a group of people where I don’t really know anyone, I only know them well enough to know I want to know them better, if that makes sense... anyway, they’re people I admire or respect or am maybe just a little bit in awe of…and I freeze up. Because I don’t know what to say or how to start a conversation or whatever. I get all shy and reserved and awkward. Which makes me freeze up even more because I’ve never been shy or reserved or awkward (socially speaking…there are many other kinds of awkward that I am an expert in) in my life and I don’t know how to handle it. Because it isn’t me. Except that apparently lately it is. I feel like I’ve completely lost my ability to articulate anything when I’m talking to people, which is so foreign to me that I don’t know what to do with it. Or how to fix it.

As a sidenote, my mom loves to tell the story of when I started French Immersion in SK. Apparently I was sick for a year. I say apparently because I was five and don’t remember. It’s all hearsay. Her theory on this is that I was so traumatized by suddenly having been robbed of my ability to communicate…because everyone was speaking a different language…that I made myself ill. This feels like an encore to that. Only minus the getting sick part. So far. Back to my point…

Eventually I end up frustrated because this stiff, unnatural version of myself that I become in these situations isn’t me. I don’t recognize myself and I would bet that no one I know outside of these moments would either. It isn’t an accurate representation of who I am as a person, or as an actress, in the case of this audition. So it’s sort of an acting problem, but I’m more bothered by it as a personal problem. It isn’t conducive to making new theatre friends. And it’s frustrating. And there is nothing more frustrating than being frustrated. Which is where I’ve been festering for the last several days.

An acting teacher once told me that “frustration is just anger without energy.” He was trying to demonstrate that playing frustration is impossible/not a strong choice. I think it’s a wonderful example of how acting lessons can cross over into real life. If you’ve ever been frustrated by something, you probably get what I’m saying. So my frustration needs some energy. Which is what I’ve been giving it for the last few days by not blaming all my issues on lack of sleep and having to be up and functional before noon on a Sunday (although I’m sure those are contributing factors to the awkward). And now I’m officially mad at myself for being so ridiculous. And in such an un-fun way. Hopefully the anger will propel me toward the solution…I’ll let you know.

Forecast: Anxiety with a strong chance of scattered ridiculous antics

I have two auditions next week.  Both of them are really f&%^ing awesome.  And I’m actually excited.  As opposed to nauseous.  Which would’ve been my feeling two or three months ago.  I think we’ll call that progress.

I’m not spilling any details right now.  But there are three possible outcomes:

1) Nothing. Other than that I go to two more auditions. But this is a boring outcome. So let’s ignore it.

2) I’ll be in another play! Or maybe two!! Let’s keep our fingers crossed…

3) I’ll do something ridiculous and either embarrass myself or just provide you all with yet another example of what not to do.  In which case we’ll all learn something and have a good laugh.

I suppose there’s a possibility that both 2 and 3 could happen in concert…which would leave us with the most potential for fun and stories and learning, wouldn’t it?  Well, rest assured, I’ll keep you posted.

NYU's Newest Undergrad!

My lovely little protege, a friend of The Photographer's sister, has been on an exhausting audition tour of basically every prestigious theatre school in the US of A. She has been everywhere from Minnesota to Juilliard, learning the ins and outs of auditioning for theatre programs. And I have been supplying advice and encouragement via email throughout the journey (despite my own audition issues, I do give pretty good advice)...oh, and I've answered about six million questions. Which I loved doing because I wish I'd had someone to answer all my questions when I was making the rounds as a fresh faced, idealistic 18 year old.

Well, I'm pleased to announce that as of yesterday she has been accepted to her number one choice, New York University. She'll be joining the ranks of their musical theatre program (CAP21) in the fall..and I am sure she'll be amazing! So proud!!

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.

When it rains, it pours.

When today started, I had one audition booked for next week. The kind that I just scheduled, not submitted for. Now I have three auditions booked for next week. With two on the same day. And I got them from submitting. And now I'm all panicked and agitated.

I don't consider auditioning to be my strong suit. And very, very rarely do I find it fun. I need to get over all this, I realize. But I wasn't expecting to have to do it all next week. And one totally threw me off since I submitted to them in, I don't know, October maybe?

I am, of course, prepared for none of it. Which is my own fault, without a doubt. I think I know what I am going to do for each one, so we're a step ahead of last time already. But I would hardly say the plan has formed beyond that.

But, of course, I've already thought about what would happen if I got each of them. Or any of them. Jumping the gun, I know. I can only do one of the three projects (if I'm fortunate enough to land any of them) because they're all theatre and they all interfere with one another. As luck would have it, too, it then becomes a matter of prioritizing: one is a good career move (I think), another is a good financial move, and the third is a consolation prize but would definitely make me a better actress.

Nothing happening in your career is frustrating. But something happening in your career could be just as challenging...

Getting an audition is just the beginning of the battle. If you're fortunate enough to get a foot in the door, what do you do next? This is what I'm still learning. And I will let you know what I figure out.

11 things I learned from my latest audition saga.

Finally, here is the story, as promised, of my latest audition adventure. While it is absolutely ridiculous and I in no way condone my general unpreparedness, I'm quite proud of myself. Turns out the "No Excuses" rule in my life is working. So here it goes:

Backstory to this: I found a really great monologue in a book and I really want to do it for something. I haven't worked on it. I haven't memorized it. I haven't really done anything beyond make that decision. When I scored this audition I was sure I was going to use this new monologue. And then it was the day before the audition. Oops.

1. Keep a book of monologues you have worked on. This makes picking one as simple as turning the page.

I decided to go with the old standard audition monologue. A wise decision, given it was made the day before the audition. And only after a frantic internet search for the text. The plus here was that I actually liked the internet version's cut better than my own, even if mine is closer to the play. This did present a last minute re-memorization predicament, of course. And I feel all this procrastination may have been the result of my well-documented hatred of audition monologues. Or it may have been because I forgot about the audition...

Okay, technically speaking, I didn't forget so much as it just crept up on me. I swear I thought I had more time! Apparently I did not take into account the impact of the holiday insanity on my preparedness. But, in the midst of a chaotic work week, I pulled it together. Sort of.

2. Rehearse your monologue. Remember, a polished monologue takes time!

I located the text of my monologue on Wednesday, memorized it in 2.5 seconds that night (the real reason for choosing something I was already familiar with), repeated it a few times in the A.M. and had a minor panic attack due to the lack of minutes between me and the audition. To calm myself, I decided in my non-committal way to come home between work and the audition. I effectively gave myself a loophole: staying downtown to kill the significant amount of time between work and audition would have forced me to actually go to the audition. Going home meant I could go or I could not go. Nothing like a little last minute vacillation.

3. Every well-prepared actor should have a stockpile of headshots and resumes. You never know when you might need one.

I managed to block the whole impending audition thing out during my day at the office. In fact, it wasn't until my driver (AKA uncle) was standing in front of me with his coat on at 5:30 PM that I realized I had neither headshot nor resume printed. Thank goodness he's a patient man. So I ordered prints online--not the most cost-effective way to do it, I assure you, but I need new headshots so I don't want fifty of the current one hanging around--and printed my resume. All at lightening speed. And as I settled into my heated leather seat for the ride home, I was still undecided--to audition or not to audition? Apparently, that was the first question...

4. Establish a pre-audition routine that works for you. Go into it relaxed and ready!

At home, I spent an hour on my back channeling all my years of Alexander/Feldenkrais/Strasberg/Yoga training and technique--my attempts at relaxation. I feel like I've been wearing my shoulders as earings for months now. It isn't pleasant. Then I dragged myself to the shower, got dressed, put makeup on, checked the clock every other minute--if you've ever done anything by rote, you get how this went. Mindless. Machine like.

And then I left. It wasn't so much an active decision that moved me out the front door. It was more like something inside me just knew I was going to go and said, "Stop making excuses and start moving..." And, really, who am I to fight these forces? So I walked to my local Black's feeling pretty decent about the whole thing. Until: lights out, doors locked. Insert expletive. In my lightening speed, I read the wrong store hours and assumed they were universal. Again, expletive. Defeat. Sort of.

5. A first impression is key to casting: arrive early and prepared.

So I stood there staring at the closed store for a while. And then I decided, screw this. I showered. I put make up on. I told my friends I couldn't hang out because I had an audition. I'm going. The worst they can do is not see me and maybe that will teach me a lesson about being prepared. And yes, I will look like an A*hole for not having my headshot, but I think that would be categorized under "things that are my own fault." It was a whole "you made your bed now lie in it" conversation in my head. And off I went. Being angry (even if it's with yourself) can be productive. It's kind of exhilirating.

I was riding that high until the theatre came into view. Then the panic set in--the tightening of the chest, the short breaths, the whole bit. Here is my issue: I hate being late for anything but I also hate having to sit around waiting for upwards of fifteen minutes. It throws what little focus I have in audition settings. My cure is to keep moving. It settles me. It puts me in my zen place. Or whatever. So there I was, circling the block while reciting my monologue. Trying not to let anyone see my lips moving. Just another crazy person.

6. Thinking of auditions as competitions is counter-productive. It isn't really about being better than everyone else, but about being the best you can be.

Eventually I went in. Still early enough to satisfy my anal retentiveness, but not early enough to have to sit in some stuffy room forever with every other actress auditioning. I don't like the intimidation game, I don't believe in it, and this situation almost always leads to it. And by some miracle, they were running on time. Early, even. Several people didn't show, apparently--I should add that I had no contact number for the audition. I couldn't call to cancel. I probably would have after the Black's debacle, but I firmly believe that the only thing worse than showing up unprepared is not showing up at all. And I took this as a good sign. To the best of my understanding, auditions were scheduled by playing age. No shows means less competition amongst the 18-24 female set. Bonus.

7. Always follow your instincts. When nerves hit, instinct is your most reliable tool.

Enter the audition gauntlet. It was a crowd. Seriously. Easily fifteen people. I was not expecting this (I'm not sure why I wasn't since I knew it was an audition for multiple plays). Secretly, this was really exciting. My audition monologue works way better with a crowd. I rejoice. And then I sit down. Wrong move. This is not at all the right physicality for this monologue. And now I don't know what to do with my hands. Expletive. Too late, I'm already talking. Well, you win some, you lose some. Mental note to figure that one out beforehand in the future.

8. Don't be afraid to take risks. They might work out.

They seemed to dig the monologue. It is, after all, a darn good monologue. And they seemed to be enjoying passing my resume around (score one for my big name university with its even bigger price tag). I relaxed a bit, given that I knew I could handle the rest. I eat cold reads for breakfast. Okay, maybe not, but I do like them better. And then this:

"Can you do a French accent?"

"Yes." (I haven't done a French accent in at least three years.)

"Could you do the beginning of your monologue with a French accent?"

(Internal monologue expletive at exactly the same time as:) "Sure!"

And I pulled one out of you can probably guess where. A pretty good one at that. Confession: I am kind of a perfectionist when it comes to technical things like this. I am actually a big dialects nerd. I was forced at my fancy schmancy school to learn the International Phonetic Alphabet in first year. As soon as I figured out how this made dialects happen, I was hooked. And I am actually really, really good at them. It's the one thing I will give myself. But I like the IPA approach and that takes time, off the cuff is another story. Even I impressed myself by pulling that one off. And acting like it was nothing. This was turning out okay after all.

9. Listen and absorb all notes in an audition. You are here to show, more than that you're right for the part, that you can be directed.

I read for two more things--one well, the other not as much. The one that I read well was fairly easy. I got it, I could relate to it, and I think I took the note I was given in the couple of lines I had to work with. The one that didn't work so well, I should have asked the question in my head when I was given the note instead of assuming I got it. I had seen the side in the lobby before and had already decided the part was not for me. Which was unfortunate because it seemed like a really good part. It was just way outside my realm of experience. But maybe if I had asked my question I would have been more believable than I was. Or maybe some things just aren't believable (see: Tom Cruise in Valkyrie). Or maybe I should just stop casting myself while at auditions--after all, casting directors will probably pigeon hole you all on their own, why help?

And then it was done.

10. Post audition: evaluate without over-analyzing.

I walked away feeling good about the whole thing. Then, of course, the "I shoulda" rant came on in my head. This is the hard part--waiting without going crazy. There will always be things I could have done differently or should have done differently. But obsessing really won't get me anywhere. Evaluation is important--figure out what worked and what didn't and take productive steps from there. But you can't change what's already happened, no matter how much you dwell on it. So auditions ended on Sunday and call backs are on the weekend (ring phone, ring!). I'm cautiously optimistic. Despite all the ridiculousness, it wasn't a terrible audition. And, whatever the case, there will be other auditions. Even ones I will be prepared for! But this rather fubar-ed audition reminded me of these words of wisdom from my former dialects teacher:

11. "Don't worry so much about being great that you can't even be good."

Perfection isn't always possible. Things happen. Don't make excuses. Roll with the punches. Do the best you can under the circumstances. Then, keep going. It's all you can do.


And, as an added end of night bonus, a lazy-eyed, leering, seemingly drunken Eastern European man stalked me onto the subway and, after watching me for five stops or so, he gave me his card and said, "When you have the courage, drop me a line."



I think I'll stick to auditioning, thanks, where just being good really isn't so bad...

The neck bone is connected to...

Today I want to talk about one of the many bits of wisdom I picked up in Theatre School. Now, Theatre School is quite different from, say, Business School or Medical School or any other kind of School. It’s unconventional, to say the least. The good Theatre Schools are, anyway, and my alma mater certainly falls into that category.

Today’s lesson is about how Casting Directors have no imagination. You, as an actor and potential castee, must spell it out for them. For some casting directors (and I do know some) this is not the case. But for many, especially the ones who don’t love their jobs and aren’t particularly successful, it is. And here is a story to illustrate my point.

In my final year at Theatre School, I spent a semester having my soul sucked out by a camera learning how to act for film and television; it is a completely different art form than theatre. As part of this foray into the dark side we were required to meet every Monday night with industry professionals. These included casting directors, commercial casting directors, agents, and managers. It was, well, interesting.

The majority of people who came in were nice and encouraging. Some were even intelligent. The best of them tended to be of the agent or manager persuasion, though there were a few bitter ex-actors thrown in: word of advice, you don’t ever want to work with one of these. The worst tended to be commercial casting directors. My disclaimer is, of course, that not all casting directors or commercial casting directors are like this. But you should probably go in expecting them to be; if they aren’t, consider it a pleasant surprise.

My group’s first encounter was with a commercial casting director who we’ll call “Horace” (Why “Horace?” Why not?). The idea was for him to impart the wisdom of his experience to the eager little actors before we took turns reading mindless drivel commercial copy for him. The reality was that this man obviously had not much of a personal life and viewed this as a phenomenal opportunity for him to command an audience and run the show. He certainly thought he was charismatic. And maybe in real life Horace is a wonderful person, but all signs pointed to Loser. It was almost sad. Almost.

Horace rambled on at length about everything we absolutely must do in order to get a job. None of it was original, insightful, helpful, or even accurate. I was fortunate enough to have had a much better source of career advice the previous semester. Anyway, in the course of regurgitating the text of every bad book on how to break into show business, he starts on the topic of headshots, a topic frequently obsessed over by actors, significantly less so by everyone with the power to actually give you a job. And out of the pile, he grabs mine.

My headshot is, admittedly, a faux headshot. My senior picture was a black and white headshot and used to serve this purpose incredibly well, but that picture was taken when I was 17. I look a bit different now. The current headshot (and I do need to have new ones done) is actually an impromptu snapshot of me taken by my boyfriend, The Photographer, with a professional camera whilst walking through the woods in England. How romantic. I am wearing a cashmere scarf/shawl, my hands are in the picture, and I look about to laugh or do something mischievous. So it isn’t really a traditional headshot but here is why I use it:

1. It looks like me on a good day. So I look good. But it also looks like me when I walk into an audition. Subsequent comments on this headshot have, indeed, included, “Wow, this actually looks like you.”

2. It is interesting. At least, I think so. It says something about me and isn’t just me posing nicely for the camera. Your headshot is supposed to get people interested. There is nothing particularly interesting in just smiling for the camera. My point is, this picture shows my personality. Another subsequent comment: “Great picture.”

3. I like it. Plain and simple. Given that I could not (and still cannot so much) afford “real” headshots, it was and is the best alternative.

Horace’s comment?

“Look at this! This is a bad picture. I can’t tell what you look like, I can’t even tell if you have a neck!?! Do you have a neck?”

Well, Horace, if I don’t have a neck, how do you suppose my head is attached?

Self-Sabotage. Or Is It?

I have an audition tomorrow night and, true to form, no audition monologue. Or, rather, I have options and have just not yet chosen one. I've been tempted to cancel the audition approximately 6,315,479 times in the last week but I will not allow myself to be such a cop out. It's my own fault because this is how I roll, but I honestly did think I would have more time to work on it and that time all just flew by. I will no doubt be memorizing something at my desk tomorrow. But then again, this is how I got into theatre school. And RADA. So it has a reasonable history of success. How will it serve me this time? I shall keep you posted.

How to audition for theatre school.

I was recently asked to give some advice to a friend of The Photographer’s little sister (we’ll call her The Camper—the sister, not the friend—because, though we are all campers in his family and in mine, she has been on the longest, craziest canoe trip and therefore is most deserving of the title…) who is auditioning this winter for my obscenely expensive prestigious alma mater. I have sent said friend a rambling email or two at this point, which she claims has been helpful much to my relief, and I thought I should share some of my insights here. I don’t really claim to be an expert (yet), but I did audition for, attend, and graduate from (with honors, thank you very much—and minus the u as it is an American school) one of the top drama schools in the U.S., if not the world. So I would think my advice does carry some weight…plus, she is not the first person to ask for my thoughts and there are some common questions. So here I go in five simple steps…

1) Auditioning for drama school is not the same as auditioning for your high school play. Or any other play for that matter. Generally, when you audition for a play whoever is casting that play is watching you to see if you make sense as a specific character. They’re looking at you for “type” (which is one of the worst words in theatre, but we will talk about that some other time) and to see how you would fit into a production on the whole. When you audition for theatre school none of those things apply—no one is looking for you to be a certain “type” or character or to fit you into a preconceived production aesthetic. They aren’t even necessarily looking at whether or not you’re a good actor. They are looking at whether or not you are mouldable. It’s all about whether or not they can turn you into a great actor, which has very little to do with already being one. Think about it, if you are already perfect, why would you need to go to theatre school in the first place? They want to see how you take direction, how you think about and process things, how you are capable of changing—this is very much a rehearsal and not a performance. That is generally how I feel about auditions anyway, but especially in this case, focus on working with the person conducting the audition and don’t worry about being perfect. They’re looking for potential, not perfection.

2) Don’t try to be anything you’re not. I realize that seems really simple, but so many people overlook it. This applies to basically everything about the audition, but mostly to the audition monologues. Now, I hate audition monologues on principle and I think that “contrasting, contemporary monologues” are the three most evil words in the English language, but the fact of the matter is they are important. Now, “contrasting” can mean just about anything, so feel free to branch out from “dramatic” and “funny.” Especially “funny.” “Funny” for females in less than two minutes is hard to find, plain and simple. The difference can be subtler, like “anxious” and “in love.” The point is not to do two monologues with the same feeling—but don’t stress too much, no one is going to cross you off the list based on the degree to which your monologues contrast (or don’t). It is far more important to pick something you connect with, that resonates with you, than it is to pick something because it’s different from the first thing you picked.

Also, “classical” does not necessarily mean Shakespeare. Although for my intents and purposes, it usually does. Shakespeare is great for theatre school auditions because, frankly, there’s a lot for an eighteen year old to choose from (but don’t do it if you don’t understand it or if you can’t do it well, there is other classical material out there). This brings me to the second part of this section: in high school or community theatre productions, we often play more of what we aren’t—think high school students playing Jean Valjean in Les Mis or someone under the age of 105 starring in King Lear—and there is definitely a place to push those boundaries. This is not it. Stick close to what you know; this will make it easier to connect to the material and to focus when you are shaking and terrified in your audition, which will make you less shaky and terrified.

3) Drama schools admit people. So be a person. The real upside to drama school auditions is that they’re interested in who you are as a person. No one may ever be again in the entertainment world, or at least not for a while, so take advantage of that. And think about it beforehand. Most of these auditions also involve an interview of sorts. It’s important to be honest and not just to say what you think people want to hear or expect to hear—I will never forget the reaction of the man I auditioned for when he asked how my parents felt about my proposed career and I said “Good” as if it were nothing. This is an opportunity for you to make your case and to express yourself in your own words—so do it well! Granted, this may be more difficult if you aren’t adept at speaking off the cuff, but there are some questions you can probably expect to hear: Why do you want to go to school here? Why do you want to be an actor? On the former, do your research, on the latter, “because I want to be famous” is not an acceptable answer, even if it is true. Remember, drama schools are interested in turning out quality actors, and most quality actors are people first.

4) Make yourself memorable by dressing the part. Technically, you should already be memorable because of your dazzling conversational skills and brilliant monologue choices. But in case that isn’t enough, there is something really simple you can do to stand out and to stick in their minds after the fact. For some reason actors really love to wear black. Don’t. Or not all black, at least. Guaranteed at least half the people you audition with will be clad all in darkness but, please, embrace color. Black is classic and wonderful but will not distinguish you in this situation. And what you wear is another opportunity to show your personality. Ideally, you should look like yourself but a little more put together, not necessarily dressed up. If you wear jeans and a t-shirt every day of your life, don’t change that. Just make sure it’s clean, not wrinkled, and maybe consider throwing a button down shirt over that. Keep in mind, too, that you may need the freedom to move for your audition, so be comfortable. It sounds so simple, I know, but look around at your audition and see how many people don’t do it.

5) Prepare. Prepare. Prepare. And then stop worrying about it. Preparation means a lot of things. First, do your research before you apply and know exactly what the school has to offer. This will help you to formulate ideas for the interview part of your audition and to have a clearer understanding of what, exactly, you’re getting yourself into. Next, don’t leave your monologues until the last minute because it will just stress you out: I am the Queen of Procrastination. I actually hold that title. I memorized one of my monologues on the plane to my audition and pretty much wanted to vomit the whole time. I really don’t recommend it. Granted, last minute panic works for me, but it isn’t terribly pleasant. Now, you’re bound to come up with some questions while you’re doing all this—see if you can find someone to ask. If you can find an alumnus to talk to, that is definitely the best bet, especially if they’re a recent grad or current student because the experience will still be fresh for them. Plus, they’ll have the most up to date info. Failing that, call the school to see what they can tell you or who the can put you in touch with. If it’s a general question, there are forums all over the web. There’s me! And ask anything and everything. Even if it seems silly or trivial. The more info you have the more comfortable you will feel about the whole thing. And finally, forget about it. When everything is said and done, after you’ve auditioned there is nothing more you can do. So don’t worry about it. It is out of your hands. And, provided you did everything you should have before the audition, you shouldn’t have anything to worry about after.

Saturday Audition Adventures

I went to an audition on Saturday night. I haven't been on an audition in quite some time--for many reasons. So I went. And it was...well, it was.

For some auditions, you walk in, you do your thing, you don't get much back from the other side of the table. And then you walk out and it's done. It doesn't feel like anything has happened. And you don't really feel anything in particular about it; you wonder what you should eat for dinner. That kind of audition. This was very much that kind of audition.

In all honesty, I think I realized halfway through the audition that I'm probably not right for the project. I would certainly do it if I got it, but it isn't really the most appropriate choice for me. On paper, I am intellectually attracted to it. But there's no pull, no tearing at the guts, no have-to-do-it feeling. It's also very sensitive subject matter; I have no immediate personal connection or relationship to it, so speaking the words feels a bit like trespassing. It would certainly be an interesting challenge and it would be tough, but it isn't necessarily right.

And it was bad cold read copy. Sort of. Some of it was. It was the kind of material that is really easy to do poorly. To sentimentalize it instead of to make it a reality.

Anyway, I went in and read through all of the monologue choices. There were way too many, literally there had to have been at least twelve. I got there 20 minutes early (early is on time, on time is late, and late may as well not even bother) and probably spent the first ten minutes just picking a monologue. My point is, it would have been easier if there had been fewer choices. There was no need for that many choices.

I finally picked one, read it over a few times, and just tried to relax. I had total indigestion (more a result of pizza and coffee than nerves, bad pre-audition choice) and just felt icky (okay, maybe some nerves). Eventually I went into the room and sat down and did my thing. On the one hand, I didn't think I was very believable. On the other hand, I didn't think I was totally unbelievable either. I took the minimalist approach and tried to just tell it (which was a traumatic experience, by the way) as much like one of my own memories as I could. I don't know if it was what they were looking for, but it's what I did. And I think I did it pretty well. At least, I definitely felt when I wasn't doing it. In that respect, I was proud of myself.

After that they gave me another piece to read. Same idea, more or less. They didn't really say anything. And I don't know if that was because they'd decided it wasn't worth it or because there just wasn't much else to say. I think it was the latter. So they stopped me partway through the second piece, gave me the rehearsal schedule info, and told me they'd be in touch in the next week or so. Short and sweet.

I may get it, I may not. The audition didn't really give me any indication one way or the other. And, really, I don't much care one way or the other. Which is sometimes a great way to audition, especially if you're just getting back into it. Every audition can't be a matter of life or death. Not that you should treat any audition as less important, but, let's face it, reality says that some of them are. If I don't get it, no worries. If I do, it will be a challenge and I'm sure I'll learn something. Nothing to do but wait and see!

Also, I'm glad I went, if nothing else. It means I started, which is sometimes the hardest part. And now all I have to do is keep the ball rolling...

So if you're thinking about doing something, stop thinking, and just do it. Jump in.

Audition monologues are basically the devil.

I submitted for a whole bunch of general auditions this past week and went home last night with this total sense of accomplishment. I was all gung-ho and totally excited about being so pro-active (because it really is harder to send in a headshot and resume than one might think...I was actually so wishy washy about one of them that I waited until the absolute last moment and had to have it couriered...ridiculous. But I digress). Until I realized that submitting is one thing, but if I actually get an audition, I am beyond screwed. Why is that? Because most general auditions require an audition monologue, no reading sides, and...

Audition monologues are the devil.

I am one of those rare actors that would so much rather read sides, cold read, do anything that is not an audition monologue. Here is why:

1) Audition monologues psych you out because they feel like a performance.
There is a whole performance mentality that comes into play when you get into audition monologues. It's something you have (supposedly) prepared and it's very difficult to go into it without thinking of it as a performance. Because what is it really? It's not a performance but you would gather that whoever is conducting the audition is expecting to see something more polished than if you were to walk in and pick up sides...For many people, myself included, this is crippling. It takes away from the idea that auditions are supposed to be (at least a little bit) fun and that they're about playing, exploring, taking direction, etc. and not about being perfect.

2) Picking an audition monologue is like trying to decide you'd rather be stabbed or shot while someone is standing over you with a knife and a 9 mm.
Finding the right audition monologue is unique to every audition because you want whoever is casting to see you in a particular role. I was told at drama school to treat casting directors like they're idiots and spell it out for them. Now, not all of them are idiots, but I did have one tell me once that based on my headshot, in which I am wearing a scarf, he wasn't sure whether or not I had a neck. I didn't ask what exactly he thought my head might be attached to if not a neck? The point is, even if they're not idiots, it is beneficial to you if you can help them. Which is why picking a good monologue is a key part of getting the part. And why you may frequently find yourself crying on the floor of your bathroom with a million Samuel French scripts scattered about you... Let's just say, it can be ugly. And "contemporary contrasting monologues?" Don't even get me started.

3) Cold reads are just a better way of assessing your skills as an actor (which may be why so many actors despise them--it's harder to hide).
Now, in reality, the best way may be to use both the cold read and the monologue. But if we're saying you have to choose between one or the other, the cold read is the better choice, in my opinion. They allow you to be more open and to make strong choices, "strong but wrong" is more acceptable in this environment, given that you don't know the material as well. In monologues, many of us tend to play it safe...Also, cold reads feel like acting class, a little bit dangerous, mostly supportive, and always creative. You discover things as you're doing it, which may just be what you need to illuminate your brilliance as an actor, in a way that is much more difficult to do with a monologue. From a casting standpoint, I would think it would be easier to assess whether or not someone is right for a particular role, how they work, what they might bring to the table in terms of creativity, and whether or not they can take direction.

There is obviously a certain bias to my statement that audition monologues are not, indeed, where it's at, but I really do believe that there are many good arguments against them.

Of course, that doesn't eliminate them.

So, if I am fortunate enough to score an audition or two out of my recent submissions, I guess I'm going to have to figure it out. I have an old favourite that is sort of appropriate (it's maybe a little old for me). I have never been good at finding audition monologues. So if anyone knows of any good resources, I would love if you passed them on to me! And I would certainly share them because I'm sure I'm not the only one with this frustration...