Growth, Gratitude

Take Five Growth, Gratitude November 6, 2011 Jenna Lamia Judy Chen, NY City Over the past few months, I have constantly felt as if I have been merely spinning my wheels. Regardless of how ambitious I can be at times, it truly takes a lot of persistence just to make a little headway in this industry, especially with all the auditioning each day. Whenever doubt surfaces about whether or not I made the right decision to leave behind a completely different career, I simply remind myself that there is no reason I can't make a living in a field that makes me so happy. (Note: Making a living and being rich and famous to me are very different things.)In last month's column, I shared my decision to produce my own play next spring. Needless to say, in an attempt to realize these lofty goals of mine, I have been buried in books on play production these past few weeks. Reading about the entire process is not only a huge learning experience but an interesting and motivating one as well. There are so many different components involved, and my next step is to determine who has skill sets that I do not possess so that I can bring the best group together. I never realized all the line items that go into the budget for a single productionsuch as lighting and marketing. How much should I charge for tickets? What set pieces can be used in multiple ways to save on cost? Let's have the actors wear their own clothes. These are the decisions and questions circling my head that make me realize that there is no such thing as a truly "glamorous" profession.Of course, I don't stop there. What's next? Once the idea for the play was planted in my mind, I subsequently wondered why I couldn't also produce films, given my innate curiosity and love of reading. I enjoy fiction and nonfiction and, if I had more time, could easily read a few books a week as I did when I was younger. There are definitely still plenty of untapped stories to be told that can captivate an audience with their originality. Smart writing and interesting topics will always bring to light great entertainment and broaden people's horizons. So in an attempt to start small, I am working on a short film about a professional gamblera career path and lifestyle that I have always found fascinating.I never thought I could achieve the things I read about other people accomplishing. It certainly didn't feel like it could ever pertain to me, but when it came time to provide a reason why not, I realized that I didn't have a good excuse either. I agree with the adage that luck is preparation meets timing. However, I would rephrase luck as being preparation meets timing for the absolutely persistent individual.Ed Stelz, NY City Today I sat at FoodParc on 6th and 29th, watching monologues, scenes, and burgers fill the mouths of a group of actor friends. We coached. We worked. We played. We socialized. We even came up with a genuinely amazing, hilariously unique concept for a television series (so Kevin Reilly at Fox, if you're reading this...nudge, nudge). On my return from a trip to the lavatory, I heard my buddy Marcus declare, "I think I might revisit those 'networking' places. I just may take some classes again." "Yeah, me too," I said as I flopped into my chair. This shocked the group, for I had once sworn never to return. I had heard stories of agents and/or CDs who attended these "networking" places solely for the purpose of lining their pockets with extra green goodies. Granted, these stories may be few and far between, but who are we to know which ones they are? "I feel there is one key element to them, though," I casually suggested between delicious burger bites. "To not care." "Right, right!" Marcus quickly agreed. "To be honest, I just don't give a hoot anymore," he said. "I don't have any more anxiety about instant acting success and stability. It's freeing." It's unfortunate that the "instant success" vibe these networking companies give off adds to the already high level of breaking-into-the-business anxiety we have as actors. Then, when we don't get it, our anxiety is multiplied tenfold. But why, evil people, why?A buddy of mine, Aaron, recently booked a recurring role on CBS' "A Gifted Man." He is everything the industry is looking for: attractive, tall, talented white male. But, it has taken him a solid five years to even get to this point. He was unrepresented for the first three. For the next, he bombed many auditions, including one where he put onion slices in his pocket and rubbed them on his eyes. The result: smelling like onions and being unable to stop crying. For the last, he got amazing representation, leading to this show. He mentioned recently that he didn't have any anxiety about when or how to break in. He just worked his butt off and rode the wave. For me, I spent my first year out of school dropping a fortune on the networking companies. I had the major, overtly anxious need for stability early on. It wasn't until recently, when I had a paid seminar with a Gersh agent, that I let that anxietyor "care," if you willgo. Guess what? He called me into his office.At every networking class I've ever been to, 98 percent of the attendees cared too much. So remember, no matter where you are, the goodsyour talent and charismawill get you in the door with someone at some point. The badsanxiety, neediness, hurriednesseasily overpower the goods and slow the process. The more the latter wins, the more you'll feel free. Jenna Lamia, Los Angeles I fear I may have written about something similar earlier this year, so I am wary of repeating myself, but this month I'm thinking about gratefulness. In our business, jobs are notoriously hard to come by. You tell people you're an actor, and they make that face that looks like you just told them your cat died, sucking air through their teeth and furrowing their brow. "Ooh, that's a hard road." Yes, it is, and for every job we get there are 99 people who didn't get it. That's why I think it's important to always behave in a way that communicates how happy we are to be there, how grateful that someone wants to pay us for our talents. It is not just politeness; it furthers one's career to always say, "Thank you for having me." I recently had a new actor do a co-starring role on "90210." The part was small, but he made a meal of it. He had to take the subway and two buses to get to the beach where we were shooting, 90 minutes south of Los Angeles. He showed up early and stayed late, and he made a point of thanking everyone for having him. He was prepared, and polite, and so clearly grateful for the opportunity that he made a big impression on me. I am writing another episode, and he is in the forefront of my mind"How can I get that character back into the action?"and all because I remember how gracious and professional he was on the one day he worked. I am not advocating making a nuisance of yourself, or hanging out at video village trying to "friend" every producer on Facebook, but a sincere thank-you goes a long way, and you'd be surprised how rarely we hear it. Just as actors want to be respected for their contributions to character, writers get a charge out of actors who are excited about their rolesthe roles we wrote. We may seem quiet or distracted, but that's probably because we are implementing the fourth set of notes from the studio, not because we don't want to meet you. I remember guest-starring on shows and feeling like it wasn't my place to approach video village, and certainly not the writers. But I can say, at least from this writer's perspective, that a little personal connection goes a long way. Endearing yourself to the writers and producers is a very good idea, and it's surprising that some actors don't make that effort. Find the writers at lunch, or after wrap, and introduce yourself. They're probably too shy to do it themselves. You're the extroverted actorgo for it! It can only help your karmaand your career.Deborah Strang, Los Angeles I am sitting in the back of the theater with my laptopor rather, the A Noise Within box office laptop. Onstage they are rehearsing a dance sequence from our upcoming production of "Twelfth Night," the opening show of our inaugural season in our new permanent theater. It is rather cool to be here and still be able to process tickets, reply to email ticket requests, and still make my entrance at the right time. It is a rare moment of technology being my friend. I have, over the years, taught myself many new and wonderful things concerning computers, the Internet, databases, etc., but at 60 years of age I am far removed from digitals (people born in the digital age) or millennials (I forget the definition of this one, but it's the group just prior to the digitals). Mostly it makes me weep.This is not something I like about myself. I would prefer not to panic when I set the DVR (I started to call it a VCR, so you get my point). When I can't get our new ticket scanners to work, my brain starts to burst while Wendy, our development director, a true millennial, can calmly start punching buttons to try to figure out what's wrong. Wendy is also a multitasker. She can be eating her lunch, checking the mail, carrying on a conversation with an intern, and doing data entry all at the same time. And doing all of it well. That is not I.Sometimes I feel that the whole business has made a revolutionary change in my lifetime. I remember when we had to drive from one studio to another to pick up audition sides. Most of us didn't even have fax machines. Now everything is online. My agent expects to email me and have me receive the info immediately on my smart phone (which I don't have). I can't keep up with all the various websites where I should be listed, much less the technology required to adjust the size of my pictures for each of them. I need a 12-year-old digital to manage my career and a full-time assistant to answer my emails. None of this is saving me time.But eventually each day, I log out of my computer and turn off my cell phone. I enter the world of live theater, where it is a poet's words and actors and an audience and humanity. We tell a story; someone listens and responds. It's very immediate and real, and I know the directions.Somewhere between the typewriter and now, someone has left out the directions for the next step. And until I step on the stage, I am left feeling inept and untutored. This is not what I want. I am smart, I am capable, I can learn how to make this &%*#@$@ scanner work. And age will have nothing to do with it.KC Wright, Los Angeles I had a great October. I went on location for a shoot, I took a bunch of cool classes, and I auditioned for a variety of interesting projects. It was my busiest month in a while and also my most artistically satisfying. I can't complain, and yet, to my surprise, I have been staring at an empty page for an hour, trying to figure out what to write. After a lot of frustrated attempts at sentences, I'm realizing why I find myself stumped. I've spent the past two years trying to convince everyone around me that I know what I'm doing. But I've learned so much in the past four weeks, moved so much closer to my goals, and grown so much as an actor and an adult, that I am ashamed. It's as if copping to my discoveries will expose how much I really don't know. After growing up in the theater, four years of Carnegie Mellon, and two years of high-level Hollywood auditions, admitting to my lack of expertise feels like a death sentence. So please don't revoke my actor card for this: I learned more about filmmaking on a weeklong shoot than in four years of school and two years of classes. My theater training gave me the essentials of character, relationship, truth, and listening, but none of the sense of frame and space that film acting requires. The more I work on-camera, the more I discover the importance of a screen-acting skill set. When I first moved to L.A., purists extolled the similarities between screen and stage; others declared "screen is exactly the same, just smaller." It's taken me a while to realize how different the technicalities really are, and learning the process by working on a film is immensely helpful. It has already changed the way I audition.This brings me to the best part of the month: working on location. I spent about a week in the mountains, filming "Eaglewalk," and beyond getting out of L.A. and working on an amazing set, I got to live out a childhood dream of starring in a horror movie. It was exactly what I hoped: intense and scary and so much fun. The camaraderie between cast and crew and the unique environment allowed for such rich storytelling, and there's something indulgent about escaping real life to live and breathe a project. On top of all that (and it really was fun), I got the chance to test my knowledge of and learn about screen acting from a more experienced cast and crew. It was a bit of trial by fire but an incredible opportunity to grow; I'm proud of myself for the work I did but prouder that I let go of the false bravado and allowed myself to learn.Why is the word "inexperienced" so cutting? Maybe because it belittles the work I've done so far, or the distance I have traveled. Maybe because the career I want rests on expertise, or at least the illusion of expertise. Opening myself up to learning opens me up to admitting the scary truth: This work is the most important thing in the world to me, and yet I am still just a beginner. Who knows what the next month will bring? Growth, Gratitude November 6, 2011 Jenna Lamia Judy Chen, NY City Over the past few months, I have constantly felt as if I have been merely spinning my wheels. Regardless of how ambitious I can be at times, it truly takes a lot of persistence just to make a little headway in this industry, especially with all the auditioning each day. Whenever doubt surfaces about whether or not I made the right decision to leave behind a completely different career, I simply remind myself that there is no reason I can't make a living in a field that makes me so happy. (Note: Making a living and being rich and famous to me are very different things.)In last month's column, I shared my decision to produce my own play next spring. Needless to say, in an attempt to realize these lofty goals of mine, I have been buried in books on play production these past few weeks. Reading about the entire process is not only a huge learning experience but an interesting and motivating one as well. There are so many different components involved, and my next step is to determine who has skill sets that I do not possess so that I can bring the best group together. I never realized all the line items that go into the budget for a single productionsuch as lighting and marketing. How much should I charge for tickets? What set pieces can be used in multiple ways to save on cost? Let's have the actors wear their own clothes. These are the decisions and questions circling my head that make me realize that there is no such thing as a truly "glamorous" profession.Of course, I don't stop there. What's next? Once the idea for the play was planted in my mind, I subsequently wondered why I couldn't also produce films, given my innate curiosity and love of reading. I enjoy fiction and nonfiction and, if I had more time, could easily read a few books a week as I did when I was younger. There are definitely still plenty of untapped stories to be told that can captivate an audience with their originality. Smart writing and interesting topics will always bring to light great entertainment and broaden people's horizons. So in an attempt to start small, I am working on a short film about a professional gamblera career path and lifestyle that I have always found fascinating.I never thought I could achieve the things I read about other people accomplishing. It certainly didn't feel like it could ever pertain to me, but when it came time to provide a reason why not, I realized that I didn't have a good excuse either. I agree with the adage that luck is preparation meets timing. However, I would rephrase luck as being preparation meets timing for the absolutely persistent individual.Ed Stelz, NY City Today I sat at FoodParc on 6th and 29th, watching monologues, scenes, and burgers fill the mouths of a group of actor friends. We coached. We worked. We played. We socialized. We even came up with a genuinely amazing, hilariously unique concept for a television series (so Kevin Reilly at Fox, if you're reading this...nudge, nudge). On my return from a trip to the lavatory, I heard my buddy Marcus declare, "I think I might revisit those 'networking' places. I just may take some classes again." "Yeah, me too," I said as I flopped into my chair. This shocked the group, for I had once sworn never to return. I had heard stories of agents and/or CDs who attended these "networking" places solely for the purpose of lining their pockets with extra green goodies. Granted, these stories may be few and far between, but who are we to know which ones they are? "I feel there is one key element to them, though," I casually suggested between delicious burger bites. "To not care." "Right, right!" Marcus quickly agreed. "To be honest, I just don't give a hoot anymore," he said. "I don't have any more anxiety about instant acting success and stability. It's freeing." It's unfortunate that the "instant success" vibe these networking companies give off adds to the already high level of breaking-into-the-business anxiety we have as actors. Then, when we don't get it, our anxiety is multiplied tenfold. But why, evil people, why?A buddy of mine, Aaron, recently booked a recurring role on CBS' "A Gifted Man." He is everything the industry is looking for: attractive, tall, talented white male. But, it has taken him a solid five years to even get to this point. He was unrepresented for the first three. For the next, he bombed many auditions, including one where he put onion slices in his pocket and rubbed them on his eyes. The result: smelling like onions and being unable to stop crying. For the last, he got amazing representation, leading to this show. He mentioned recently that he didn't have any anxiety about when or how to break in. He just worked his butt off and rode the wave. For me, I spent my first year out of school dropping a fortune on the networking companies. I had the major, overtly anxious need for stability early on. It wasn't until recently, when I had a paid seminar with a Gersh agent, that I let that anxietyor "care," if you willgo. Guess what? He called me into his office.At every networking class I've ever been to, 98 percent of the attendees cared too much. So remember, no matter where you are, the goodsyour talent and charismawill get you in the door with someone at some point. The badsanxiety, neediness, hurriednesseasily overpower the goods and slow the process. The more the latter wins, the more you'll feel free. Jenna Lamia, Los Angeles I fear I may have written about something similar earlier this year, so I am wary of repeating myself, but this month I'm thinking about gratefulness. In our business, jobs are notoriously hard to come by. You tell people you're an actor, and they make that face that looks like you just told them your cat died, sucking air through their teeth and furrowing their brow. "Ooh, that's a hard road." Yes, it is, and for every job we get there are 99 people who didn't get it. That's why I think it's important to always behave in a way that communicates how happy we are to be there, how grateful that someone wants to pay us for our talents. It is not just politeness; it furthers one's career to always say, "Thank you for having me." I recently had a new actor do a co-starring role on "90210." The part was small, but he made a meal of it. He had to take the subway and two buses to get to the beach where we were shooting, 90 minutes south of Los Angeles. He showed up early and stayed late, and he made a point of thanking everyone for having him. He was prepared, and polite, and so clearly grateful for the opportunity that he made a big impression on me. I am writing another episode, and he is in the forefront of my mind"How can I get that character back into the action?"and all because I remember how gracious and professional he was on the one day he worked. I am not advocating making a nuisance of yourself, or hanging out at video village trying to "friend" every producer on Facebook, but a sincere thank-you goes a long way, and you'd be surprised how rarely we hear it. Just as actors want to be respected for their contributions to character, writers get a charge out of actors who are excited about their rolesthe roles we wrote. We may seem quiet or distracted, but that's probably because we are implementing the fourth set of notes from the studio, not because we don't want to meet you. I remember guest-starring on shows and feeling like it wasn't my place to approach video village, and certainly not the writers. But I can say, at least from this writer's perspective, that a little personal connection goes a long way. Endearing yourself to the writers and producers is a very good idea, and it's surprising that some actors don't make that effort. Find the writers at lunch, or after wrap, and introduce yourself. They're probably too shy to do it themselves. You're the extroverted actorgo for it! It can only help your karmaand your career.Deborah Strang, Los Angeles I am sitting in the back of the theater with my laptopor rather, the A Noise Within box office laptop. Onstage they are rehearsing a dance sequence from our upcoming production of "Twelfth Night," the opening show of our inaugural season in our new permanent theater. It is rather cool to be here and still be able to process tickets, reply to email ticket requests, and still make my entrance at the right time. It is a rare moment of technology being my friend. I have, over the years, taught myself many new and wonderful things concerning computers, the Internet, databases, etc., but at 60 years of age I am far removed from digitals (people born in the digital age) or millennials (I forget the definition of this one, but it's the group just prior to the digitals). Mostly it makes me weep.This is not something I like about myself. I would prefer not to panic when I set the DVR (I started to call it a VCR, so you get my point). When I can't get our new ticket scanners to work, my brain starts to burst while Wendy, our development director, a true millennial, can calmly start punching buttons to try to figure out what's wrong. Wendy is also a multitasker. She can be eating her lunch, checking the mail, carrying on a conversation with an intern, and doing data entry all at the same time. And doing all of it well. That is not I.Sometimes I feel that the whole business has made a revolutionary change in my lifetime. I remember when we had to drive from one studio to another to pick up audition sides. Most of us didn't even have fax machines. Now everything is online. My agent expects to email me and have me receive the info immediately on my smart phone (which I don't have). I can't keep up with all the various websites where I should be listed, much less the technology required to adjust the size of my pictures for each of them. I need a 12-year-old digital to manage my career and a full-time assistant to answer my emails. None of this is saving me time.But eventually each day, I log out of my computer and turn off my cell phone. I enter the world of live theater, where it is a poet's words and actors and an audience and humanity. We tell a story; someone listens and responds. It's very immediate and real, and I know the directions.Somewhere between the typewriter and now, someone has left out the directions for the next step. And until I step on the stage, I am left feeling inept and untutored. This is not what I want. I am smart, I am capable, I can learn how to make this &%*#@$@ scanner work. And age will have nothing to do with it.KC Wright, Los Angeles I had a great October. I went on location for a shoot, I took a bunch of cool classes, and I auditioned for a variety of interesting projects. It was my busiest month in a while and also my most artistically satisfying. I can't complain, and yet, to my surprise, I have been staring at an empty page for an hour, trying to figure out what to write. After a lot of frustrated attempts at sentences, I'm realizing why I find myself stumped. I've spent the past two years trying to convince everyone around me that I know what I'm doing. But I've learned so much in the past four weeks, moved so much closer to my goals, and grown so much as an actor and an adult, that I am ashamed. It's as if copping to my discoveries will expose how much I really don't know. After growing up in the theater, four years of Carnegie Mellon, and two years of high-level Hollywood auditions, admitting to my lack of expertise feels like a death sentence. So please don't revoke my actor card for this: I learned more about filmmaking on a weeklong shoot than in four years of school and two years of classes. My theater training gave me the essentials of character, relationship, truth, and listening, but none of the sense of frame and space that film acting requires. The more I work on-camera, the more I discover the importance of a screen-acting skill set. When I first moved to L.A., purists extolled the similarities between screen and stage; others declared "screen is exactly the same, just smaller." It's taken me a while to realize how different the technicalities really are, and learning the process by working on a film is immensely helpful. It has already changed the way I audition.This brings me to the best part of the month: working on location. I spent about a week in the mountains, filming "Eaglewalk," and beyond getting out of L.A. and working on an amazing set, I got to live out a childhood dream of starring in a horror movie. It was exactly what I hoped: intense and scary and so much fun. The camaraderie between cast and crew and the unique environment allowed for such rich storytelling, and there's something indulgent about escaping real life to live and breathe a project. On top of all that (and it really was fun), I got the chance to test my knowledge of and learn about screen acting from a more experienced cast and crew. It was a bit of trial by fire but an incredible opportunity to grow; I'm proud of myself for the work I did but prouder that I let go of the false bravado and allowed myself to learn.Why is the word "inexperienced" so cutting? Maybe because it belittles the work I've done so far, or the distance I have traveled. Maybe because the career I want rests on expertise, or at least the illusion of expertise. Opening myself up to learning opens me up to admitting the scary truth: This work is the most important thing in the world to me, and yet I am still just a beginner. Who knows what the next month will bring?