THE REEL DEAL – 10 Things I’ve Learned.
I’m currently vying for a spot on Season 1 of The Reel Deal, a cutting edge new reality show.
Below are 10 things that I’ve been reminded of on this journey –
1. Actors are Awesome!
Actors often get wrongly accused of being self-centered or egotistical. The group of 112, The Reel Deal finalists, are so generous and supportive of each other. We went from being complete strangers to a passionate and inspiring community; sharing tips, articles, strategies and encouragement via Social Media.
2. I Love Working with Female Filmmakers!
When I produced my short film, Nothing Happened, I was so proud that it was a story about women, produced, written and directed by women. In an industry that is still dominated by men, I love that The Reel Deal is led by 3 creative, inspiring women – Adryenn Ashley, Bonnie Gillespie and Tina Davis. Next up – I want to join the Femme Fatales in NYC.
3. Every Actor should take a turn being a Casting Director!
Watching everyone’s auditions and callbacks on YouTube was very enlightening and was an opportunity to be on the other side of the table. I realized how quickly I decided whether or not I liked an actor. Watching the same monologue done by different actors also highlighted how bringing your own unique essence is essential. There is definitely a level of subjectiveness too and I’m very intrigued to see if my favorite finalists are cast in Season 1.
4. Social Media is an Amazing Tool!
See #1.
5. My life will Unfold as it is Meant!
If I get cast on the The Reel Deal, I’m don’t know the who, the how, or the cost, of taking care of my son. But I’m letting go worrying about the logistics and trusting that it will work it out somehow. One of my current mantras is “life can be wonderfully easy” – as I sometimes have a tendency to assume something will be difficult, when in fact it might not be!
Living the Suitcase Life
Something about the fact that I am close to leaving my home of the last four years made me want to get out of town and explore the local cities, knock off those things still hanging on my bucket list. It has been a great time but now I find myself surrounded by laundry, trying to unpack so I can pack up everything I own and move across the country.
I am going to be surviving this summer on only what I can bring in two suitcases. Everything else gets sent back home with my parents. It was my bamboo plant that made me realize this blog post: I can’t even bring my lucky little green plant with me wherever I go. Or a mirror, wall hangings, my tea mug, my stage weapons, a bookshelf – and this is the life that me and most of my classmates are about to embark on: a life on the road, living out of our suitcases and eating at restaurants or with whatever doesn’t require cooking utensils.
I don’t know where I am going to be in six months. I don’t know what the weather is going to be like when I get there, let alone in six months’ time. All these cool things I got for my apartment this year suddenly have to be boxed up for weeks/months/years until I am settled in a place where I can unpack my bags. Meanwhile, I’m trying to garage sale off what I can to lessen the load and under-going really frightening student loan counseling sessions. The thought of never seeing the people that I have spent the last four years with is even more so. I see far too many theatre jobs with unlivable salaries (if there is a salary offered at all). My parents’ health insurance may not cover me out-of-stage if something should happen. Not being able to take my stage combat weapons through airport security with me would just suck.
I. Am. Job.
If you know what movie that’s from, we will be fast friends.
I want to be a lot of things. Luckily, I live in New York City, where you can be and do just about anything. I came here because I love theater (musicals, especially, and I’m not ashamed to say it), and I wanted to be a professional actor. It would seem that half the earth’s population had a similar idea. After six years of soul-sucking rejection, insignificant survival jobs, and teetering on the poverty line, I’m realizing that I may not value a life in the theater as highly as I thought I did. I want to marry my wonderful boyfriend. I want to buy a house that has a lawn and a porch. I want to travel! I want bleeping health insurance, for goodness’ sake. There was a time when being a professional actor would have topped this list 10 times over, and although I know that my priorities have shifted, there’s a part of me that feels sick over thinking about throwing in the towel.
I’m one of those people who actually love living here. Yes, it is expensive and dirty, but it is also full of beauty and life. I always pictured myself living here, regardless of whether or not I ended up acting for a living. However, there is something about the thought of continuing to live here without the daily audition struggle that makes me so depressed I can’t stand it. As miserable as it frequently makes me, I can’t be here and not try. Somehow, I have to find the means to keep theater in my life in a significant way, maybe one that even still contributes to my distant dream of being a working actor, but I’ve got to figure out how to reach some of these other goals, too.
Finding my (Fight) Family
I am now six months post-injury that had me sidelined from all stage combat/dance activities last year. Since the doctor gave me the thumb’s up, I was really eager to get back into my classes again and I am realizing that my body is now stronger than ever. I thought the best way to celebrate my return to fighting was to officially, finally join the Society of American Fight Directors (!) but a friend suggested an ever better way: going to The Louisiana Tech Stage Combat Workshop (The Boil).
A caravan of friends and I road-tripped it out of the still snowing state of New York and drove all the way south for twenty-four hours straight, arriving in the wonderfully sunny state of Louisiana for a whole weekend of stage combat. I have never seen so many people casually carrying around swords and whips! Even at my school, which is super invested in stage combat, it’s still confined to only what our two teachers can offer. It’s one of those things I’m noticing, the closer I get to graduation – I have been in my little college bubble for so long that I can only judge based on my “bubble level” and my classmates who are also in that bubble alongside me. Getting off-campus, out of my comfort zone helped me pop some of those illusions.
In two days, I took TEN classes of my choosing. A year and a half of training has me pretty firmly placed on a intermediate level but because I’ve had such good training, I was able to keep up in the advanced classes too. I even got to try new things, like smallsword and how to fight while handcuffed (!). But I also got a different perspective on what is stage combat and how to apply it by studying with other teachers and students. One teacher in particular reminded me how important it was that “actor” came before “combatant” in the title “actor-combatant” while another helped me reach an epiphany in the first five minutes of class, an epiphany that I’ve been trying to grasp for years.
The First Review
Any of those who have read my last post, knows that I’ve recently accepted an opportunity to see shows and write about them. While I’m not allowed to include the actual review in this post as part of my contract, I can write the experience and things I’ve learned from my first time writing my thoughts on a show that got published.
1. You’re treated as anyone else in the experience. When I went to see the show, I had my free tickets waiting at the box office and from then on out was treated just like anyone else. I had some pretty good seats, but not particularly best seats of the house variety. No one mentioned it, and no one came up to me about it. Quite frankly I prefer it that way. After all, someone there to write about a show is still an audience member, with the only difference being their opinions on it will be public. So why should there be special treatment?
2. Research is your best friend and your worst enemy. I did a lot of research when I was sitting down getting ready to write. The good news was I found a lot of helpful info, like meanings of key words and concepts in the show along with interviews with the writer/director/etc. Although in that research I’ve found links of other reviews- sometimes included in the helpful info. I personally wanted to avoid other people’s thoughts till after mine was published since I didn’t want to be tainted (both by noticing something I didn’t originally and by writing a review similar to their’s). Research can really help understand certain elements of a production, but it’s important to make sure it still your perspective that will come through in the writing.
3. Writing about shows professionally isn’t the same as educationally. When I started my undergrad theatre degree, one thing I did all the time was see shows on campus and write about them. I did it so much I became quite good at them, and the majority of them I got easy A’s on. Now that it’s more than 5 years later and I finished that degree quite some time ago, not only was getting back in that mindset took longer then I thought, but it turns out it’s a different style of writing! Professionally written should be much shorter yet still cover all the main points from synopsis, thoughts/feelings, and including all major aspects of the production. My shortest college “review” was 2 pages, this had to be no more than 500 words (which isn’t even a page!).
Don’t Touch That Phone!
I read this opinion article from CNN about the amount of people who reach for their phones as soon as they wake up and the detriments of that action. As a Stage Manager, I am extremely guilty and have fought the urge to pick up my phone for the past year now. I recognized that whenever I looked to see if I got emails, texts, or calls, I couldn’t let things end there before making tea, showering, and eating breakfast. Before I tossed the covers off, I had to go further and find out who was contacting me and why. It would bother me if I didn’t satiate this curiosity. More often than not, I’d open the email or text and the message would be something that instantly caused worry, stress, anxiety, frustration, or annoyance – sometimes all the above. And then I couldn’t stop myself from dealing with whatever I read. Fortunately, if I responded, it was in a professional and level headed manner. But the damage to my psyche and start of day was done. Every time I look back on each circumstance, I realized that none of it was so urgent that it couldn’t wait until I had showered, had my cup of tea, and read the morning news.
So, I made a vow: don’t touch my phone until I have done my morning ritual. I only got as far as turning my phone on to see how many messages arrived but I managed to stop myself right there. And I did rather well until last week.
This is the first entry in a series I am doing on my work directing Porch Light Productions Next to Normal. The show opens June 20th at Porch Light Theater in Glen Rock, New Jersey.
I first saw Next to Normal in 2011 with my best friend Anna on Halloween night . I had heard it was “a must see” and “something I would like”, so when I got the free ticket offer through American Theatre Wing’s Springboard Program Alumni list, I jumped at it. Marin Mazzie and Jason Danieley had just taken over the roles of Diana and Dan. I have loved their work for as long as I can remember and was thrilled to see them onstage together.
Notes, Set design sketch, Director’s Binder
To say I was undone by the show is an understatement. Next to Normal was the first time I had ever seen the issue of mental health, illness, loss and a family grappling with these things honestly portrayed on the commercial stage. I knew the show had a cult following and arrived a bit late to it. Anna recently reminded me that the first (and only) thing I said to her following curtain call was “I will direct that show one day.” When the opportunity to direct this piece presented itself (3 years from when I first saw it), I jumped at it.
We have just finished preproduction and casting. My vision of Next to Normal differs from the Broadway show (one of the beauties of directing – creating the world as you understand it through the text and music). I have no interest in recreating someone else’s vision. One of the reasons I am drawn to directing is for the opportunity to be at the artistic helm of a project and create new worlds.
The Green Room 