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...

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!!

Changing how you think of yourself changes everything.

My first year at university the head of the drama department told us that the difference between actors from our school and actors from other schools is that actors from our school have ideas. I wasn't sure what exactly this meant at the time, but I know it sounded exciting. What he meant was that when we graduate, it is with ideas about what is means to be an actor and what it means to be an artist. These ideas are not, I would argue, specific to me and my fellow alumni but my alma mater did take painstaking care to instill them in each of us. Over four years of very intense training, equal parts practice and theory, we developed our own sense of what each of these titles meant to us. Always, we were encouraged to view ourselves not just as actors but as theatre artists.

This concept of myself as a theatre artist was frequently challenging for me. While I have more than a few ideas about acting, about theatre, about the world, I always felt false referring to myself as a "theatre artist." To me, it sounded pompous, arrogant, pretentious...Perhaps because I have seen it portrayed as such so many times. But it doesn't have to be. In fact, thinking of yourself as a theatre artist can be liberating. This is what I am learning now.

Creating a career in theatre is a Herculian task, requiring an iron will and unwavering determination. Any advantage you can give yourself in this pursuit is invaluable; thinking of yourself as an actor only is limiting, stifling even, and discounts your worth to the theatre world. Any well-trained actor is capable of contributing to more than just what is happening on stage (in my opinion not only are we capable of it, but it is our responsibility). And when you realize this, you begin to understand how the potential for a career in theatre is infinite.

I have an unexpected and intriguing interview today for an unpaid internship with an artistic development program. It isn't my dream job; it isn't on stage. It isn't a job for an actor. But it is an opportunity to grow as an artist and to engage in the theatre in a new and meaningful way. It is an opportunity to demonstrate the breadth of what I am capable of. If everything goes well it has the potential to lead to a productive relationship with a prominent theatre group and to further ideas and opportunities. I think this is the modern day version of "paying your dues."

Tom Stoppard's Coast of Utopia was on stage at Lincoln Center in my final year of university and one night a favourite professor (also a well-respected theatre critic and editor) decided to use his second comped ticket for a good cause. Namely, me. It was the best seat I ever had in a New York City theatre. And not just for the fantastic view of the stage. As we sat there talking about my future plans and pipe dreams he told me something I have carried with me every day since: It is very difficult to make a living in the theatre, but, if you want to, you can make a life in the theatre.

So I propose that the difference between "actor" and "artist" is this: to be solely an actor is to limit yourself to the neverending pursuit of a near impossible living, whereas to be an artist is to open yourself up to the possibility of a life.

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...

File a brief. Or something legal. For free!

The TAPA Blog just posted about a clinic offering free legal advice and services to artists in Ontario. Artists' Legal Advice Services, or ALAS, is a collection of lawyers and law students who donate their time to help address the legal needs of Ontario's actors, artists, writers, filmmakers, dancers, musicians, et al. They generally deal with "contracts, defamation, copyright, trademarks & royalties or other payments." For more information, click the link above, or click here.

Strike A Pose!

My favourite Ginger co-worker just alerted me to a new yoga studio in our office neighbourhood. Trinity Yoga has opened its doors this week. Located at 65 Bellwoods Avenue, Unit 3, it is offering free yoga and pilates classes for the month of January! The fine print: they ask for a one-time $10 donation to The Redwood, an organization that helps victims of domestic violence; you have to register (but it's super easy); and you are limited to three classes per week. As far as fine print goes, not bad. They haven't yet announced what their rates will be after January but it is definitely worth checking out, what do you have to lose?


I am registered for a class this weekend and three next week. I need to get myself back in shape and I need some exercise. But I hate going to the gym. Loathe. It's fine once I'm there, but it's an ordeal to drag myself there and, no matter how well it goes, it will be an even bigger ordeal to drag myself back. This is a much better solution to the problem.

I think we all need exercise. But I also think you have to find the exercise that makes sense for you. You want whatever you do to be sustainable. It should enhance your life, not make you miserable. I would encourage you to look into what works for you. I'll be at Trinity!

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?

The Blogging Bug.

A few things have happened since I started this blog not so long ago, and I think they are positive changes in my personal development. I am exploring the vast reaches of the internet to a greater degree and with more serious intent (which, on the downside, has significantly contributed to the number of hours I spend on the internet). It is teaching me a lot about a variety of subjects, not the least of which is what I care about--in reality, in a clicks-per-day kind of way, not just in my head. I am definitely experiencing a quarter-life crisis of sorts, which is apparently the signature of my generation, not that I find that terribly comforting, but blogging is helping me, I think, to figure out what I am doing and how I am going to do it. It's all still in the nascent stages, but it's coming along. As am I. And I'm hoping it is something I will carry through and not give up on--I think it has to be.

Right now Brazen Careerist is featuring a whole series of posts about blogging--why it is great, how it can help you, etc. And if you need more encouragement, Penelope Trunk can point you in the right direction. It has been a great help and source of direction for me. And if you don't know where to start, surf the web and see what others are blogging about--everything from technology to art to design to families to travel to food to politics to well, everything.

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.

Spreading Holiday Cheer On A Budget.

Apologies for the lack of activity today, I'm not feeling all that well. It's the cold that just won't go away (note to self: more than six-ish hours of sleep per night would probably make an enormous difference). Oh, and the day job. And the holidays, for which I am sadly unprepared...which leads me to what I do have to say today.

Having now lost my mind completely, I decided it would be a good idea to cross some items off my Christmas shopping list this past weekend. At the Eaton Centre. What was I thinking? Excellent question. Well, it appears I was very concerned with spreading the holiday cheer at bargain prices. Either that or there is no other time in my life between now and December 25 in which to get it all done. Regardless, I, along with approximately 8.73 million other people, ended up shopping the Eaton Centre this weekend. And, I have to say, despite the insane hordes of holiday shoppers, there were some beautiful things to be seen.

First, the Swarovski Christmas tree is up in the middle of the mall and impossible to miss. I should have taken a picture to post here (a task at which I failed all weekend), but you really have to see it in person to appreciate its glowing goodness. I am actually a big proponent of the more Charlie Brown-esque features of Christmas trees and, while beautiful, it isn't really my holiday tree ideal. But it is worth seeing and appreciating. And it does benefit charity, I believe. Although I'm not totally clear on how. My head is a little fuzzy.



Moving on, I elbowed my way through the masses at Indigo for the book lovers on my list (including me) only to discover that The Canadian Tenors were singing and signing. Now, I didn't go in for the signing, largely due to time constraints, but they sounded just as beautiful as they looked. They did a really lovely version of Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah. They also have a new CD out and are performing tonight and tomorrow in Toronto.

As a side note, I found a really great book at Indigo that I've been meaning to read for a while: A Complicated Kindness by Miriam Toews. If you are female and at all interested in finding alternate sources for monologues, this is one you should definitely check out. This is giving away trade secrets because I certainly intend to use it at my next audition. If you're not interested in these things, I still recommend it as a good read.

Finally, Christmas shopping on a budget is difficult (duh). Especially when you really do want to find nice things for people with more $$$ than you. But, unfortunately, part of being a "starving artist" is that you generally are not rolling in the dough. So, may I propose a few Christmas gift ideas that are particularly good under these scenarios, and especially for the kind of people who basically already have everything--like, say, The Photographer's parents. If anyone on your list enjoys cooking, check out Williams-Sonoma. They have neat kitchen gadgets that are fairly inexpensive as well as lots of really delicious sauces, drinks, etc. I highly recommend drink mixes that can be given with mugs--such as hot chocolate or mulling spices or anything of that nature. It is, after all, the spirit and intent that are most important...but you still want to give something nice that will be appreciated.


Another option is a nice framed picture, if you have a particularly good picture of the recipient or a place that is special to them...this is probably easier when your boyfriend is The Photographer. If all else fails, the picture frame itself will do. Pottery Barn has an excellent selection.

Finally, As a personal touch, I also include with all my gifts a Christmas ornament that in some way relates to the recipients' interests...Pottery Barn can also be good for those, amongst other places.


Happy holiday shopping! I hope you all manage to find some beauty in the insanity of it all, too. And I promise to be more put together tomorrow...

Is this a prop knife I see before me?

The Guardian theatre blogs have been all over this story today...

By the way, I know I expressed my wonder at the amount of theatre-related content they generate yesterday (so much that I don't even have time to tackle any of the other arts talked about in that particular publication) but I decided today that what I really love is that they don't have an "Entertainment" section and they don't divide the arts up so you have to hunt them down in different sections. Rather, they have a Culture section. Ponder that, Stephen Harper, while you enjoy your time off...

Anyway, back to the story (I am linking to this blog post because I liked it the best and it's my blog so I can do that. Also, the Phyllida Lloyd production of Mary Stuart referenced in the above link is one of the most exquisite things I have ever seen on stage. But I digress). Apparently an actor accidentally slit his own throat in an Austrian production of Schiller's Mary Stuart after someone left a real knife in place of the fake one he was supposed to use. Fortunately, he missed his carotid artery and, like a trooper, was back on stage the following night. The lesson here? Check your props. And not necessarily because someone might be harboring a grudge, but because people misplace things and accidents happen. And you don't want to wind up dead as a result. Therefore, you should especially check any prop that is a weapon.

More even than that, respect your props. I can't tell you how many stories I've heard from stage combat experts about actors who have accidentally died by messing around with prop weapons. The classic example being prop guns: actors have accidentally killed themselves or others even using blanks if they are shooting at point blank because firing the gun still results in an explosion and a forceful column of hot air and gas. This can kill you just as dead as a bullet. You should treat any fake weapon as if it were real. In turn, this will also help you as an actor...one of the biggest problems actors have in stage combat, and in general, is believability, if you will. You want people to believe it's real. So how can anyone believe your prop gun is real if you don't treat it like a real gun?

These are just my thoughts after reading the post. And this comes from someone who didn't really get all this until she fired a real gun (with The Photographer and his family in Utah, by the way, quite the family outing). I used to walk around the RADA in a skirt with my prop knife sheathed in my Ugg boot. Killer.

Patience & Anxiety: Helpful Hints

Patience is a virtue. Or so I've been told. I wouldn't really know as it certainly is not one of my virtues. An unfortunate character flaw, and one I am always working on, but a reality I have nonetheless come to know and accept.

Being an artist requires a great deal of patience. On the one hand, you have to go out there and make things happen! But on the other hand, you have to patiently trust that as long as you keep trying, eventually, things will happen. It's contradictory, messy, and a breeding ground for anxiety. But this is what you, as an artist, have gotten yourself into. If you can't handle it, you may want to get out while you can. If you aren't sure whether or not you can handle it, you probably can. Most of us can handle more than we give ourselves credit for.

Every now and then the anxiety, the "what-the-hell-am-I-doing" hits me. Generally at odd intervals, when I'm doing not much of anything, or when I think of a submission I haven't heard back about yet. It got me for a while last night, but I managed not to let it get out of control. Amazingly, I have developed some ways of coping recently.

1) Take deep breaths. Seriously. If you have any kind of training in relaxation, which you probably do if you have any kind of training in theatre, now is a good time to use it. Things that are useful in theatre are often also useful in life.

2) Focus on the positive. Think about the things you have accomplished. And think about what you consider to be an accomplishment. I once had a teacher, a well known agent/manager/producer, tell our class that most of us are too hard on ourselves--if all you do in the first year after you graduate is manage to pay the bills and live on your own, be proud of that. It is an accomplishment. So don't make it about what you think you should have accomplished or what other people have done. If managing to get out of bed in the morning is a big deal, celebrate the fact that you have done that much. Give yourself credit.

3) Think about what you can do in the future. This includes thinking about things you could do differently--I believe nothing is a total failure so long as you've learned something from it. It also includes all the things you haven't yet done. I guarantee there will always be something you haven't yet tried. I, for example, was worried about submitting to auditions. Then I thought about the fact that I haven't even begun submitting to agents...So there is still work to be done. And a lot of anxiety has to do with feeling like you're at a dead end.

4) Find a temporary distraction. A book, a movie, a tv show, a friend, a game, anything (well, anything not self destructive). If you think about anything for too long, you will lose your mind. Take a break. Give yourself permission to take a break.

5) Get it out. If you are having a freak out, sometimes all you need to do is get it out. Put it out there in the universe, get it out of your head. Keeping things in only makes you dwell on them more. This could mean talking to friends or family. Or, if you're like me and for whatever reason just can't talk about it, write a journal or start a blog! Or dance about it. Or paint it. Just get it out!!

Those are some of my hopefully helpful thoughts for this morning. I did notice I've had some hits on this blog in the last 24 hours, so I hope there is someone out there a) reading this and b) benefiting from it. Or it could just be people clicking that "next blog" tab up top. I do that sometimes. Whatever the case, it's kind of neat!