I got new rules, I count 'em

I took about a half of a year off from contributing to this blog. Things started popping up everywhere. Life things. Sometimes it was stuff that I wanted to give my attention to, like playwriting. That’s not to say those other things were more important than the blog, just more immediate at that time.

A Career Coach friend of mine is a big supporter of the idea of “being of service”. That means being open to the possibility that something you know or something you have will be beneficial to someone other than yourself. And you are willing to share it.

Lately, I’ve had an overwhelming number of friends and colleagues decide to get back into show Business or to start actively pursuing a career in the Performing Arts. Some of them have turned to me for guidance. So, I have put finger to keyboard and started blogging again...to be of service. I’ve decided to start with ten things an actor needs to be aware of during their career.

The obvious place to start is the fact that YOUR TIME MANAGEMENT SKILLS WILL BE TESTED.

There are so many things an actor does in any given day, week, month, year. Some of which are considered normal activities, like going to work. Issues start to arise when that “work” isn’t in the arts field of their choice. We’re talking “day jobs”. Having a day job that allows an actor to audition freely, and allows them to take leave to perform (and then return) is a rarity. If you find a job like that, keep it. Forever. Because a lot of places won’t even consider hiring actors, even restaurants.

That means if an actor is like ninety percent of the other actors working towards getting a performing gig, they have to plan auditions around a work schedule. Which, for Equity actors can be quite difficult. (More on Equity auditions in another blog). It’s a bit easier if you have an agent, but then there’s more pressure. If an agent gets an actor an audition, and it can’t be rescheduled, that actor has a choice. Go to the audition and miss work, or bag the audition and go to work. Either way, someone is going to be pissed. And the actor is the one who loses out.

An actor also has to factor into their scheduling the myriad of acting classes, voice lessons, dance classes, gym time and upkeep on any special hirable skills they may have (for example Tuba playing). On top of that, add in the other mundane things humans need to do: laundry, grocery shopping, cleaning, and showering. The hours just get eaten away.

A working actor has to focus on the task at hand, whatever that is for them. Because to do everything at the same time, you’ll need 10 days in one week with each day being thirty six hours long.

The other option is to hire people to manage those things. If an actor can afford to employ a cook, a maid, a personal trainer, a stylist, an assistant, a secretary, and private lesson instructors, that’s amazing. They should go ahead and do that. The rest of us poor slobs have to work on fitting it all together like a billion pieced puzzle, doing what we can, when we can.

Which brings me to the next point: YOU WILL BE LATE.

I can hear my bestie Thurston protesting. “I’m never late”. And truth be, told he isn’t. But, and this is a big but, when he comes to NYC to audition that’s all he does. He doesn’t have a day job, or take classes, or lessons or go to seminars or anything. He only auditions. Plus, he stays at places that are within walking distance of the audition studios. He is the master of his time.

For the rest of us, however, we are at the mercy of outside influences, the MTA (subway system), traffic, or a boss who won’t let us leave at the promised time. We have no control over those things and many, many more. And since we have no control over them, we have to take them all in stride.

Don’t let Thurston fool you. He has his things to deal with. He’ll show up at an audition two hours early for fear of being late. Two hours. Which moves right into the next issue: YOU WILL HAVE TO WAIT.

In this business nothing moves quickly except finding an emergency, last minute replacement for a show that’s already begun. Outside of that, it’s all about waiting. An actor will have to wait in line (physically or cyber-ly) to sign up for an audition. Then wait for transportation to the audition. When they arrive, they wait for their name to be called to audition. An actor waits in line, on deck, to go into the audition room. Then they have to wait to hear if they’ve been cast, or who has been cast instead.

And yes. YOU WILL BE REJECTED.

That’s the entire nature of show Business. Rejection after rejection after rejection. If an actor coming to one of the main hubs of film, TV or theatre (New York, L.A., Chicago, Atlanta or New Mexico for example) from being the “wunderkind” back home, this will be a huge wakeup call.

When someone makes the trek to “the big city”, no one there knows who that actor literally is, or what they can do. There are casting people and theatres that will take a chance on someone new. But most likely if an actor was a “star” back home, they will try to be a “star” on Broadway or in feature films. With millions upon millions of dollars at stake, investors and producers are not so willing to go with an unknown.

Let me put it this way, I once knew someone who had worked consistently, as a lead, for almost ten years, in higher tiered regional theatres nationwide. He was billed as a “star” across the country. He finally got his “break” to be on Broadway and was hailed as a “new comer”. Ten years.

Rejection can stem from the three things that no actor ever wants to hear, can’t understand or admit. But nonetheless, they are true:

First, YOUR LOOK IS NOT ORIGINAL.

I come from mixed race parents. My genetic makeup is unique. That makes my look unique, or so I thought. It turns out that even I have doppelgangers out there. One of them is a chorus boy and the other is a Broadway star. The people behind the tables sometimes think that I’m the chorus boy. Fellow actors sometimes mistake me for the Broadway star.

I went to see a friend in a show in Brooklyn. It was one of those experimental type shows where they keep the lights on. The audience is almost part of the play. During the performance, I noticed one of the actors noticing me. It was a little uncomfortable but I chalked it up to the immersive part of the production. Afterwards the actor came up to me and introduced themselves and thanked me for coming. The friend I was there to see came up and was like “Hey, I see you met my friend Evan”. The actor apologized because they thought I was the Broadway star, and that made them stare at me during the show.

If you think your look is quirky, fun and outrageous, it may be. But one thing it’s not, is unique. If you doubt what I say, just go to a commercial audition where you feel the breakdown is specifically asking for your look/type. I guarantee you will walk into a room full of not so unique “yous”.

The same principal applies to what an actor performs in front of the table. YOUR AUDITION MATERIAL IS NOT ORGINAL. Unless of course an actor has written the song or monologue that they’re using. And has given it to no one else. In that case, then yeah, it’s original. Most people behind the tables don't want to hear those types of things though. Some even go so far as to say that in their breakdowns. For example, The Phantom of the Opera openly states it in their casting breakdowns. That show has been running for a hundred and fifty years. The people behind those tables know a thing or two about the Business, and longevity. Take their word of advice. Don’t use original stuff unless it’s specifically asked for.

So, outside of a performer literally writing their audition material, there is a finite number of good, solid audition pieces, be they songs or monologues. If an actor is lucky enough to have found one, they can bet someone else has found it as well.

I once traveled over one thousand miles to audition for a show that I am perfect for. I had the perfect outfit and the perfect song, which I thought no one sang. Several people in front of me on deck was a man who was the same type as me, singing my song. And not only that, he was singing the exact same cut I had planned on using. I had personally made this cut, believing no one would ever sing it. And here he was, being all me and junk.

I forget who, but someone once told me that for every person you hear singing your audition song at an audition, there is another hundred singing it that you don’t hear. And statically speaking, at least one of those people is doing it better, because SOMEONE IS ALWAYS MORE TALENTED THAN YOU.

Unless you’re a rare combination of Audra McDonald/Pavarotti, Nijinsky/Ana Pavlova, Laurence Olivier/Meryl Streep, and Mary Lou Rattan/ Mitch Gaylord, then there is someone who is more talented than you are. I know some people will doubt this. But the truth is, talent is completely subjective. There is no true way to measure it. The only thing that counts, is the viewer’s interpretation. In short, it’s one hundred percent personal taste.

However, that being said, TALENT DOES NOT ALWAYS GET THE JOB. The actor who is liked gets the job. The actor who knows someone gets the job. The actor who looks the part gets the job. The actor who everyone wants to sleep with gets the job. The actor with name recognition gets the job. The actor who produces gets the job.

The actor who fits the costume, gets the job.

The bonus is if that actor is perceived to have talent. As you can see, there are other factors that go into getting cast. Most are out of the actor’s control. An actor should only be concerned with what they can control in the entire process, which is showing up, being prepared, and being personable and polite.

Do that, and you will eventually get cast. Do all of that well, and be perceived to have talent, means you will be confronted with a horrifying situation. The day will arrive when YOU WILL HAVE TO TURN DOWN A JOB.

Anyone who has been in the Business for any length of time will concur on a couple of things. First, no job is ever certain, even after you sign the contract. That means that until the gig is over, an actor should still be pounding the pavement submitting themselves for projects and going to auditions. I’ve had more than a few colleagues have contracts fall through, even after starting rehearsals. And because they did the whole “put their eggs in one basket” thing, they ended up being unemployed.

The second thing to note is that when it rains it pours.

There is a certain energy that an actor puts out once they’ve been cast. It’s not really easy to explain, but it’s palpable. It’s that extra something, swagger maybe, that an actor has after booking a gig. That energy is intoxicating and the people behind tables get drunk on it.

The tricky part to having multiple offers is balancing them and knowing which to take and which to turn down. In some cases there are legal ways to renege on a signed contract, for instance. Sometimes, even with the legal ways, that bridge will go down in a fiery inferno never to be crossed again. But sometimes the people behind the piece an actor’s leaving, completely support that decision. In the end, honesty is always the best policy.

Living a life in show Business takes effort and commitment and diligence and talent and money. Actors need to have a realization that most things are truly out of their control. There are only so many hours in a day. Someone or thing will be responsible for their tardiness. There is a lot of waiting; for the right time, the right part, the right company’s attention. But there’s even more rejection, and it’s constant. Knowing these, and the fact that their audition material and their look are not original, an actor still has to go into each and every audition room and give it their best.

The Business has gotten so extreme and so specific and much more encompassing than it ever has been in the past. There is something for everyone. Hopefully someone will believe you’re talented enough to book a gig. Or maybe two or three gigs at the same time. Then you’ll have the luxury of being able to choose. But remember, talent isn’t a prerequisite for landing a job. And that’s a good thing, because there’s always a more talented option.

The one thing you need to remember is:

IF THIS IS WHAT YOU WANT TO DO, THEN DO IT.

I’ve tried living without theatre. That world just doesn’t work for me. I’ve found that I need to be constantly acting and singing and dancing and writing and directing. I need to be around other people who are doing the same. That’s Life for me.

Hi. My name is Evan Edwards and I’m addicted to creating. Without it, I end up...

“...talking in my sleep at night, making myself crazy...”

Think it o-o-ver...

Wow. May is done. Before it started I noticed I was getting more and more work scheduled from my day job. So much so, I decided to put a hold on everything else. That meant taking no classes, no lessons, and going to no auditions. I would just make money to pay my bills.

I was ok with this. Auditions had slowed down considerably. There wasn’t anything that I just had to be at or die. I had wanted to get back to voice lessons. I just didn’t get a moment before May to set them up. I also wanted to go back to Dance class. With the schedule of work that I had, that would be impossible. One week in May, I put in 75 hours of catering. Seventy-five hours! The physical toll on a body from catering that much is like working a 200 hour work week at a desk job.

There wasn’t much I could do besides eat, sleep and work in May. I did, however, get a chance to sit behind the table at a pretty big audition though. It was enlightening to see and hear all those hopefuls display their wares, searching for a buyer.

Time is still at a premium for me, but I want to take a moment to share with you what I witnessed at that audition. Instead of interesting stories and connecting anecdotes about my, or my friends, related exploits in the Performing Arts world, I’m going to cut right to the point-

Stop.

Stop singing iconic songs like “Somewhere over the Rainbow”. You may sound amazing singing the song. You may believe you have a new and interesting take. One or the other or both may be true. But you cannot compete with the people behind the table’s memory of the song being sung by (in no particular order)

Judy Garland

Israel Kamakawiwo’ole

Sam Harris

If your amazing version of “New York, New York” could outsell and outlive Frank Sinatra’s version, then you need to not be singing it at an audition. You need to professionally record it and share it with the world.

Know where your strengths lay and what will get you noticed.

Stop.

Stop asking questions that either:

A.) You already know the answer to.

 
or 

B.) The answer is easily found in the information on the monitor’s desk, on the internet or in the text of the piece you’re auditioning for.

This does not give you an opportunity to make a personal connection to the monitor or people behind the table. It’s like screaming “I am not prepared” at them. And in fact, hinders any connection you could establish. Use those precious moments to concentrate, focus and do whatever you need to do to let your personality shine through the work.

Stop.

Stop making excuses. If you’re late to a call simply say “My name is ______. My apologies. I’m late.” And be ready to drop your stuff and walk into the room, More often than not, the monitor will ask if you need a minute to collect yourself. That is, if they'll still see you.

However the monitor is not going to relay the message that your cat wouldn’t take his medicine, ran under the bed and wouldn’t come out, to the people behind the table. Nor does anyone care that there was a “sick passenger” on the train causing it to go out of service.

The only thing the people behind the table want to know is, how well you are suited for the available parts in the show that is currently being cast. And if you’re talented and lucky, the next show that they’re casting.

Stop.

Stop spewing your neurosis all over your fellow auditionees. You know if you talk a lot when you get nervous or upset. Someone in your life, be it your parents or friends or teachers, has already told you this.

If auditions trigger incessant talking, you have a couple of choices. You can find someone else who has the same reaction. Then the two of you can go off, in a far corner, and talk till your tongues fall out. You can step away from the others who are preparing for the audition. In a far off corner, and blather to yourself in a soliloquy form.

Holding rooms are not the place to let your "eccentricities" roam freely. That stuff follows you into the audition room and displays itself to the people behind the table.

Get help in identifying and controlling your nervousness. That in itself will improve the quality of your auditions. It will also probably greatly improve the quantity of auditions as well. And we all know it's a numbers game.

Stop.

Stop trying to psych out your competition. You know who you are. I see at least one of you at every audition. At vocal calls, you ask what someone is singing and then make a face at their choice. At dance calls, you sit in a center split or stand with your leg up the wall because you “feel tight today”. At acting calls, you somehow figure out how to announce, to the entire holding room, that you’ve worked with the director, the playwright, the casting people or anyone else who happens to be behind the table.

The audition is about you and how you can best serve the piece at hand. If you want to get cast in a piece and do what you know in your heart you were born to do, focus on being prepared. Focus on being polite. Focus on looking and sounding the best that you can at that particular moment.

Focus on you. Have confidence in yourself and your talent. Everything else just gets in the way. So just...

“Stop.

In the name of love...”

The internet is for porn...

The Art of performance boils down to one thing: interpersonal relationships, having them in real life and mimicking them on stage and screen. The concept is quite simple in theory. It’s getting much harder in practice.

I think we all understand how this works in real life. We see it played out in person time and time again. Someone gets something because they’re charismatic, or good looking or a genuinely nice person. Where the problem comes to light is on line.

I play World of Warcraft. There. I said it. I admitted to the world that I play WOW. If you happen to not know what WOW is, it’s an MMORPG. For those who may not know what that stands for, it means Massively Multiplayer Online Role Playing Game. It’s much easier to say MMORPG.

Like most MMORPG’s, in WOW the player has the ability to choose his avatar: an icon or figure representing a particular person in video games, internet forums, etc. The player has the ability to choose, within the parameters of the game design, what they look like and what they wear. Once that’s chosen, the avatar is ready to go into the game universe and do stuff. In my case it’s cast spells and kill crap.

My avatar represents who I am in that world. It can be a complete representation of who I am irl (in real life), who I want to be, or just some combination of what the RNG (random number generator) comes up with. Any way it’s done, that is who I am in-game.

When auditioning for theater and film, the people behind the table want you to be the best you can be. They want to see a complete representation of who you are, irl. That representation has many aspects. The more aspects that complement each other, the easier it is to be cast. A well-known casting director recently said that people behind the tables “have no imagination”. They want you to bring yourself to the role you’re auditioning for.

The conundrum lays in the fact that they people behind the tables also want you to be the character you’re audition for. (Thanks reality TV).

At any rate, an actor creates their avatar. They decide how to present themselves at an audition. They decide what material to prepare, how to dress, and, when and if they prepare for the audition, to name a few things in the equation. All of which manifest in the mini-performance for the people behind the table.

Easy, right?

Well, it used to be.

I have played WOW almost since the beginning. There is an in-game function that can tell you exactly how long you have played the game, the character and the level you are currently on. I’m not going to say how long I’ve actually played. I’m not ready to admit that. But I’ve played long enough to see how the game has evolved.

Way back in vanilla (‘vanilla” is what gamers consider the initial years of a game), one had to traverse the game world to find quests. Quests are just that, quests. Once in a while, you meet a fellow player or two who were doing the same quest as you. You’d type a message to those players and ask if they wanted to tackle it together. You did what you had to do, kill the monster, rescue the fallen warrior, invade the camp or stop a summoning ritual. Even though you had help, you essentially did it alone. Each individual got the entire loot for completing the quest. Then you all went on your separate ways.

Soon came the invention of guilds, groups of like-minded people who would quest together and share the loot. If the guild wanted to have a meeting, all of the members had to be online, in the same online world location. Then came the ability to send guild messages on a private in-game channel. Soon after came markers on the map which told you where the quests were. Then markers on the map to say where you could complete the quests. The ability to group up and do quests with people from around the globe was introduced. You no longer had to be on the same server (in game world) to get things done. Then came third party voice chat systems that allowed gamers to talk to each other in real life (irl) while playing the game, then, whether they were playing the game or not. Finally, links to your real life were introduced: Facebook, Instagram and Twitter.

This all became possible based on the available technology and its advances.

I’ve been in the business of Show since I was a teen. I’ve studied theatre history, both ancient and modern. I’ve been in it long enough to see how the “game” has evolved.

Once upon a time there were only a handful of places an actor could go to try and get cast in a show or (back then, god forbid) a movie. Once these actors had to literally walk to producers’ offices to try and get an audition. With CV (curriculum vitae) in hand, thespians would pound the pavement, knock on doors, and hope to get seen. Much like questing in an online game. Unscrupulous businessmen would take advantage of said actors in a variety of ways, forcing them to band together for protection: a guild. Casting directors spawned from a need to weed out the talented from the non-talented, in theory. Agents submit an actor for a role, basically pointing out where to go to “quest”. With the advent of the World Wide Web (that’s what “www” stands for when placed before an online address), an actor could be submitted for a role no matter where they were physically. Now with online signups for EPAs (Equity Principal Auditions) and chorus calls, any union member anywhere on the globe can attempt to get an audition.

And finally, in my opinion because of the popularity of reality TV shows, actors are sometimes required to divulge how many followers he or she has on social media. That effectively links up real life with online life. This adds another facet to who you are as a person, a product and a brand.

This all became possible based on the available technology and its advances. And this is where the problems can begin. The people behind the tables are starting to not only pay attention to who you are in the audition room, but also who you are online.

No matter what any person or online platform tells you, there are some hard and fast rules about being in cyberspace.

1. Nothing is ever truly private.

2. Nothing is ever truly deleted.

3. No one is truly anonymous.

4. There is no way to know another’s intention (or inflection) when reading
    their post.

5. Pictures can be manipulated to lie, but ultimately that lie will be your
    undoing.

6. There will always be someone who is offended.

On Facebook there is a group for performing artists. The members of the group cover the entire gamut of professional theatre: actors, writers, directors, choreographers and casting people. There is one common thread. We are all members of Actors Equity. Stories are shared, commiseration is had and yes, actors are sometimes sought.

If we are friends on my professional Facebook page, you are no stranger to my rantings about the current procedure for signing up for an audition. I covered the new method in a blog last year. Suffice it to say that it is not working the way many believe it should.

One such person was Vivienne.

I personally found nothing wrong with the post. She was mad. She vented. Game over. Move on. However, the present climate in our country gave way to this:

I personally don’t have a problem with the word. We used it as kids to mean something was dumb. I don’t use the word now because it offends people.

Poor Vivienne then sealed her fate with:

And then...

Poor Vivienne didn’t get it. Even after responses like:

She shot back with:

And it all just escalated from there, bringing in race and the "N" word, I.Q. differntials between cultures, abortions and a whole host of unpleasent things. Five hundred and thirty-two comments worth at the time of this posting.

Now you’re probably thinking “I would never say things like that, not even online”. And that may be true. But again, online, you are not in control of how someone perceives your posts.

My friend Lisa and I grew up together. Went to school together. Lost touch after school but a few years later we were back in touch in New York City. Lisa is someone I have known, literally, all my life. We are (were) friends on Facebook.

One day I saw a post of hers. She was complaining about how baristas never spell her name correctly. It’s a fairly easy name, but it can be spelled many different ways. She decided that she was going to call out, on social media, every place that spelled her name incorrectly.

After reading that post, I replied saying that if it bothered her that her name was incorrectly spelled she should just spell it out for the baristas. It takes two seconds to reply with a spelling: My name is Lisa. L-I-S-A. She refused, saying that she should be asked how to spell her name because that would be good customer service.

“Lisa, if it involved your career, say for example you were on ‘Late Night with Seth Meyers’, you would make sure your name was spelled correctly beforehand.”

This didn’t sit well with her. She wrote a reply. Then she deleted it. I still got an email from Facebook with the reply. I can only guess that she took down the post. I can no longer see anything recent on her walls, and she doesn’t respond to my posts.

I contacted her and invited her to a table read of one of my plays. No response. In fact I haven’t heard from her, whatsoever, in four months. We used to talk two or three times a week.

Now you may be saying “So what? You lost a friend on Facebook.” Well this friend, this life-long friend, has a mid-level career in theatre and television. And she’s rising. Not only is the friendship non-existent, that’s a contact gone, an ally turned. As one person on Vivienne’s post said:

Spelling her name wrong causes her stress, I lost Lisa as a friend trying to help alleviate that stress. Vivienne lost about 200 allies from her career. These are people who noted her name, banned her from the group and vowed never to work with her.

I got the raw end of the deal, however. Vivienne can go work in Po-dunk Kentucky doing community theatre in someone’s basement. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, it’s just isolated from the world of NYC. I lost a lifelong friend and colleague.

The Performing Arts is just a huge MMORPG. You decide how your avatar represents you in the world. You go out into the world on your quest. You can meet people who are on the same quest or a parallel quest. You can help each other out or you can deter each other. You can share the glory or you can hog it all for yourself.

But remember, the people behind the tables are playing the same MMORPG as you are. They want to play with amiable characters. They have access to your social media. If they have questions about who you are as a person, they will go online. They will look at your personal website. They will troll your Facebook, Twitter and Instagram. Because at a certain point in the game, everyone has the weaponry to kill the monster; everyone has talent. The people behind the table will look for any differential to help them in their quest: casting a show.

When you get lost in the game, sometimes, an NPC (non-player character) will point you in the right direction:

Vivienne is an extreme case. But please don’t think anyone is being fooled by someone only posting cat videos, or food pics, or saying every production they see is awesome and amazing. Be as human online as you are irl. And maybe, a teeny, tiny bit nicer. Because online:

1. Nothing is ever truly private.

2. Nothing is ever truly deleted.

3. No one is truly anonymous.

4. There is no way to know another’s intention (or inflection) when reading 

    their posts.

5. Pictures can be manipulated to lie, but ultimately that lie will be your 

    undoing.

6. There will always be someone who is offended.

Cyber space is an intangible thing. I’m sure there are some who read this will think “So what? Some random people I don’t know won’t work with me.” Or “I lost a friend because of something I posted. That just means that person wasn’t really my friend”. But cyber space can have very tangible, hard-felt consequences.

In 2014 Seyi Omooba, an actress, posted what she believes is true on Twitter:

The actress and daughter of a pastor went on about her day to day life. She was doing shows and living the dream.

This year she then landed the role of “Celie” in The Color Purple at the Curve Theatre. In the show, “Celie” develops a romantic relationship with a woman. This will be a pretty major production in England. After casting was announced, a fellow tweeter, Aaron Lee Lambert called Seyi out on her almost five year old post:

Within a week, Seyi had been removed from the cast, with the full support of everyone involved:

If that isn’t a tangible, hard-felt result, I don’t know what is.

The things you put out on social media platforms will come back to you. Sometimes it comes back in a bad way, like losing a friend or a job. But if you use it correctly...

“...The internet is really, really great...”

Faggots, Lezzies, Dykes, Cross-dreseers too...

So this year’s live televised musical extravaganza was Rent, by Jonathan Larson. I remember hearing the music to Rent when it originally hit Broadway. I wasn’t in New York City at the time, so all I could do was listen to it, over and over again. I had no clue of some of the things they were singing about. But there were other things I related to so much, that I almost became obsessed. And thousands of people did. My dad, however would not be one of them.

My dad hated musicals, in all forms. He thought they were stupid and insipid. He liked westerns and war movies and dramas. Much to his chagrin, born unto him was a son who revered the musical theatre art form.

Being from a small town, we didn’t have much in the way of theatre. Buffalo was the cultural center of the area. We lived too close to Buffalo to actually have a live, thriving theatre scene. It took the same amount of time to get from my parent’s house to Buffalo, as it does for me to get from my apartment in Queens to midtown Manhattan.  So I relied on the movie musicals to get my fix.

I would watch every movie musical that would come on TV. Hello Dolly, Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, and My Fair Lady were a few of my favorites. I wanted to watch them every single time they would come on. My dad placated me for a while. But I guess it got to be too much for him. After a few years, he started to put his foot down. He refused to watch them, especially if there was something else he wanted to watch.

“You’ve seen [insert any movie musical title here] a hundred and seven times. We’re not watching it again.”

“But it’s so good. I’m sure I missed some part of it ‘cause I was singing along. So I have to watch it again.”

“Nope.”

I would inevitably wail about the unfairness of it all.

“No one promised you fairness in this world.”

And truer words were never spoken. You see, instead of watching a movie musical I had seen a hundred and seven times before, he would watch a war movie he had seen a thousand and seven times before. So I would storm out of the room, unless he was watching Star Trek (the original) in syndication. We both loved that show. We found common ground there.

At elementary school, during recess we kids were always looking for some new game to play. We had three playgrounds and two huge courtyards around our school, in addition to the Olympic sized track and field area. One day we decided we were going to play Star Trek. We were going “exploring”. I believe it was my friend Dick’s idea. Little did either of us know that we would grow up to be actors. Perhaps this is where it started.

Dick and I went through all of our education together. In high school we both joined the Drama Club. We both had our debut performances in Jesus Christ Superstar. He played Jesus and I played apostle number twelve.

Throughout the high school years we did a number of shows, which coincidentally happened to be among my favorite TV musicals. We did The Music Man. Dick was Professor Harold Hill. I was chorus boy number three. Senior year the Drama Club decided to do My Fair Lady. I was in heaven. I had always wanted to be "Freddy Eynsford-Hill".  The character’s stuff was just so romantic and magical. I was cast as "Colonel Pickering", however. And surprise, Dick was cast as "Henry Higgins".

One of the ensemble men could not dance, so he was recast as "Pickering". I was recast as ensemble.

At any rate, all of us guys in elementary school, and it was only guys because third grade boys didn’t play with third grade girls and vice-versa, decided which character we each would play. Then we would set off to explore where no man had gone before...one of the other playgrounds we weren’t on.

Dick picked Captain James T. Kirk. I picked Spock. Little old musical theatre emotional me wanted to play the science officer. I’m sure that would have made my dad proud. Besides, I thought it would be a fun character to play. It was so opposite of who I was. But I wasn’t allowed to play him.

In reality, I’m more akin to "Mark" from Rent. He’s the observer, the one trying to make some sense out of the world by watching it through his camera lens. The problem is, the world doesn’t make sense, and is unfair. (Just like my dad said) So he doubts his talents, which keeps him stuck in his situation. I related to "Mark". I wanted to play him.

Looking back, I realize why that musical drew me in. Rent is raw emotion. There’s only fleeting references to science and medicine. At the time I had no idea what those references meant. "Mark" is the only one who comes close to being analytical in any sense. And then it’s all too much for him and he breaks down.

Today I understand the things that are being sung about. Given the subject matter, the language and the sexuality of the piece I couldn’t believe that it was chosen to be broadcast live on network television.

Rent is one movie musical I’m sure my dad would have watched. He was born in Brooklyn. He lived in New York. How he ended up outside of Buffalo I’ll never know. He and my mom and my aunt would take vacations to NYC in the seventies and eighties. Had he been alive, we would have watched it together through Facebook. I’m sure he would have given a running commentary on what was realistic and want was pure fantasy.

He never understood it was the fantasy that I was chasing after.

I did shows all throughout high school and college. My dad only came to see one of them, when my little brother was also cast in the show. He didn’t even come to see me when I was finally cast as the lead in high school. I played "Proteus" in the musical version of Two Gentlemen of Verona with Dick playing "Valentine", the romantic lead of course. It was a triumph for me. My dad didn’t show up though. But one of my favorite teachers, Mr. Demunda, did.

“I didn’t know you could sing. Why haven’t you played more parts?”

I truly had no idea why.

Even through University I never played a lead. I was one of two people in my class to graduate with that distinction. I did have the longest bio, being cast in musicals and Shakespeare and theme parks. Dick played almost every major musical character there was to play. Imagine my surprise when my high school drama club director called me at University to be a lead in a community theatre musical...and not Dick. It was quite a compliment, or so I thought.

There was one reason my high school director called me instead of Dick.

There was one reason I wasn’t allowed to be Spock on the playground.

When I left for New York City to pursue acting, my dad tried to shake me out of the fantasy and prepare me for what would happen.

When, as an actor, I was able to afford to live on 96^th Street and Central Park West in New York City, the fantasy I had been chasing was paying off. There was no reason to heed my dad’s warning. Sure I had a roommate to share expenses, but at the time he was one of my best and dearest friends. I was non-union. I was working constantly. Life was great.

Then I met a friend of my roommate. The guy’s initials are B. S. Unlike all the other names throughout this blog, those are his real initials. I will never forget what he told me.

B. S. was a nice Jewish guy, almost stereotypical in sound and action. He was an actor as well. We had become friends through my roommate. One day the three of us were hanging out in our apartment. B. S. asked if he could see my resume. I guess he wanted to compare formats or something.

He looked over my resume. Then said “I hope you liked Dreamgirls.”

I replied “It was great. The show was wonderful and the people were so talented and fun”.

“Good, because that’s all you’ll ever do.”

This. This is what my dad had warned me about. “It’s going to be harder for you in New York because of who you are.”

I knew my dad was wrong and my moderate success proved it. So I kept pushing and pushing. I kept working. I decided I wanted to climb the ladder and be on Broadway. So I pushed in that direction. I got my Equity card. I was still booking jobs, but at a slower pace. The people behind those tables don’t take chances. They hire actors they know, actors who have worked for the production team before, and actors that look like the original cast members.

Star Trek wasn’t real. All of us kids knew that. And if anyone didn’t, they were dumb because some of those special effects were hokey as hell. None the less, I was told that I could not play Spock in our little game because I didn’t look like him. My friends told me that I had to play Uhura, the ship’s communication’s officer. To them, that’s who I looked like, even though she is female. But Dick could play Kirk, even though he looked nothing like him. Except they were both white.

My ethnicity trumped my gender.

Years later, after I had moved to New York and after I had moved from 96^th Street and Central Park West, an ex of mine was doing Me and My Girl in Connecticut. One of the guys got a better contract offer and was leaving the show. The cast was asked if they knew anyone who could be a replacement. My ex suggested me. I had worked at the theatre twice before, including being a last minute replacement. I had learned that show in 48 hours. I was more than capable and qualified. But I was passed over because the show takes place in England.

My ethnicity trumped my talent.

In between Star Trek and Connecticut, came the community theatre show. I wasn’t right for it. It was beyond my scope, out of my vocal range and far beyond my comfort level. But my high school director wanted me to do it. He said “you’re the only black guy in the area with any talent”. I guess he had a quota to fill.

My ethnicity trumped everything, but not in a good way.

My dream of playing "Mark" in Rent would go unrealized. When Rent had auditions I was told I wasn’t the right type for the character. To an ethnic man that is code for “you’re not white”.  I was told that if I wanted to be in the show, that I should focus on one of the other men. That was code for “you should look at the ethnic tracks”.

For years, the people in my life, well-meaning or not, have advocated that I go for the things that they think I’m right for in Show Business. Those shows and those roles are almost always ethnic. They don’t see me as anything other than the melanin in my skin.

Casting directors reading my resume would hand pick which roles they could see me in. They only roles being mentioned were the ethic ones. It didn’t matter that I had obviously already played everything on my resume.

Agents protested my choice to sing “On the Street Where You Live”, Freddy Enysford-Hill’s song from My Fair Lady. It didn’t matter that the song perfectly fit my voice and my persona.

If someone tells you something repeatedly, it takes a foothold in your mind. You start to doubt what you once were sure about, much the way the character of "Mark" in Rent does. Then you act accordingly.

So many ethnic performers will not show up to an audition unless they know there is an ethnic track in the show. An ethnic track is a role that was originally cast as an ethnic person. Subsequent castings of that show try to recreate the look of the original. The powers that be think that if it worked once it’ll work again. This is also the reason why subsequent casts not only look the same but sound the same.

My dad was right. It was harder for me because of who I am. So I stopped going to a majority of auditions. I knew they weren’t going to hire me, not for the things I was suited for and wanted to do. So why should I waste my time?

Oddly enough, B. S. wasn't getting cast either. He was too Jewish. Frustrated, he left Show Business, never to return. Karmic Justice?

I was dubious at best that Rent was coming to TV. I knew I would watch it, but I thought it would be just more of the same on every level. The same sterilization and presentation for the masses.

Before the show aired, Rent was running interviews with its stars. I had no idea who had been cast. I just assumed they were all stars or known celebrities. I decided to watch the interviews to get acquainted with whom I would be seeing.

This was one of the last ones I watched:

I cried after watching this video. Actual tears rolled down my face. Finally I was seeing someone who represented me playing a role that I had wanted to play, but was told I couldn’t because of who I was.

But I played a part in me not being able to play parts. I stopped showing up. I stopped doing the work of an actor. I started pushing the weight of small minded people around with me like Sisyfus, eternally punished by pushing a boulder uphill only to have it roll down again.

The blame rolled down to me.

Jordan Fisher playied “Mark” in Rent.  Christiani Pitts plays the whitest of white roles in King Kong on Broadway: “Ann Darrow”. Peppermint was the first transgendered person to star in a Broadway musical. Jordan Donica, an ethnic man, originated the role of "Freddy Enysford-Hill" in the Lincoln Center Broadway revival of My Fair Lady.

They showed up.

So I will too. And so should you. There are opportunities opening up for all of us, regardless of  skin color, weight, height, sexuality or gender or anything else that makes you feel marginalized.

People behind the tables and behind the cameras are starting to see that the Performing Arts should be about the human experience, not just about the pretty, the white or the male experience.

Art in this country is moving, ever so slowly, towards inclusion and community. It's time to show up, because it’s beginning to be about...

 “...being an us for once, instead of a them.”

Dhoom machale

Well it's officially 2019. It's so ripe with opportunity and alive with hope. As usual, I tried my best to complete everything I had started. In my mind it helps me to move on to bigger and better things. It's called closure.

There was a time when I actually had closure. But that was before 2007.

In 2007 I did a show and it was the worst experience of my theatrical life. And that experience permeated every aspect of my life. As hard as I tired I just couldn't shake it. It was a ghost with unfinished business haunting me.

I had forgiven the people who had created the toxic environment. I was removed from situation. I stopeed talking about it and ignored those who wanted to perpetuate the circumstances through spreading gossip about it. I thought I had done everything. But I hadn't.

Then I relaized what it was.

After the contract had ended, the majority of the cast was on the same flight home. I sat next to a girl who I had become friends with. During the flight, we watched a movie on her laptop. Unfortunately the movie was longer than the flight. So I didn't get to finish it.

The movie is called Dhoom 2. It's a sequel to a Bollywood film. What I saw of it I loved. I wanted to see the ending. It had everything I love all rolled into one movie: singing, dancing, romance, intrigue, and beautiful people. Here's the opening credits:

Dhoom 2

My friend and I quickly lost touch afterwards. That kind of thing happens all the time. With every contract comes an entire cast of new friends. You rehearse together, hang out together and form instant bonds based on your common goal: perfomring the show. Then when you return to life, you can fall out of touch with a good many of those people.

Anyway, I couldn't ask my "friend" to finish the movie. So I searched everywhere. I even went to specialty video stores. I could not find it. After awhile I would forget about it. Then something would happenand that would make me think of the movie, and the search would begin again.

For some reason about three days ago the movie ran across my mind. I began the search yet again. This time I found. I rented it on iTunes and watched the entire movie again. I mean it's been 11 years, I  had no idea where I had left off.

I loved every minute of it. When it finished there was such a weight lifted off of my shoulders. Eleven years is a long time to be waiting for closure. But closure is what I got. Complete and cathartic.

The chorus from the opening credits,"Dhoom machale", means to create an uproar, a celebration. And that is just what I did.

There are times when you have no idea what has a hold on you, what's stopping your journey and stifling your creativity. January, in my opinion, is a transition month. Take a moment and figure out if you have any lose ends, dangling participles, unfinished business. Then finish it and get ready to move on with your life.


"...And see your wildest dreams, slowly come alive."

You don't know what you're up against...

Once upon a time, on a Halloween not too long ago, three teenaged couples, Beulah and Leroy, Hattie and Steven, and Dot and Heinrich, decided to go on a trip.  They wanted to escape the craziness that came with the holiday.

Beulah was a “good girl”. She didn’t smoke or drink or curse. She was saving herself for marriage. Leroy came from a religious family. He didn’t eat meat, or sweets or drink soda. They worshipped every day.

Hattie was a sex crazed cheerleader. All she wanted was boys and more boys. Everything about her was geared to enticing the opposite sex, especially her clothes. Steven was the boy next door, all-American type. He was quiet, yet commanding, polite and had a desire to make everyone happy.

Dot looked like a little porcelain doll. However she was aggressive and pushy, and had a mouth like a sailor. Heinrich matched her on every level, full of bravado and testosterone.

The getaway spot they chose was in the jungle. It was remote and isolated. By the time they arrived it was almost dark. Each couple chose a cabin and went to settle in.

Next on Hattie’s to do list was Steven. After she unpacked she put on a sexy outfit, and began her seduction.

Dot wanted to snuggle indoors by the fireplace. Heinrich wanted to explore the dark, dank jungle around them. They fought about choosing which to do. The expletives freely flew out of their mouths.

Beulah was tired. She was always tired. All she wanted to do was take a nap. Leroy went about planning the meals for the weekend, making sure to stick to the strict diet he had set up for himself and Beulah.

It was midnight when it happened. Beulah and Leroy were preparing for bed. They were both on their knees saying their evening prayers.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

There was loud, heavy knocking on the front door of their cabin.

Beulah and Leroy didn’t want to be interrupted. They figured it was one of the other couples. Whoever it was could wait until prayers were done. Leroy and Beulah continued. Then...

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

Again there was knocking. This time it became louder and more aggressive.

Beulah and Leroy continued to ignore it.

BOOM! BOOM!

Leroy had had enough. Someone this rude and impatient could only be Heinrich.  Feed up with Heinrich’s aggressiveness, Leroy got up to answer the door.

BOOM!

The last knock shattered the door into splinters.

Beulah screamed when she saw what was at the door. It wasn’t Heinrich. It was a hideous monster that stood eight feet tall, covered in fur matted with old, dried blood, with huge saber tooth tiger fangs, and hands the size of shovels. Each finger ended in razor sharp talons.

Beulah shut her eyes tight and prayed harder than she ever had in her life.

Leroy had seen plenty of scary movies. He knew he and Beulah would be the first to die.  They were always the first to die. The monster slowly lumbered into the cabin. Leroy tugged at Beulah’s arm and tried to pull her away. She wouldn’t budge. She just closed her eyes tighter.

Leroy knew he wasn’t equipped to fight this demon. All he had were the papers his dietary plans were written on. He flung them into the monster’s face, confusing him. Then Leroy grabbed Beulah and practically dragged her to the back door of the cabin.

Just as they were about to escape, the monster clawed at Beulah’s leg, snapping her Achilles tendon. Leroy tried to pull her out of harm’s way, but it was too late. The beast slit Beulah’s other tendon and now she was crippled. The monster ripped off one of Beulah’s legs and then the other. As she screamed in pain, Leroy ran.

Dot and Heinrich couldn’t hear the commotion over their fighting.

Hattie and Steven couldn’t hear Beulah’s screams over the music that was blaring in their cabin.

In her efforts to seduce Steven, Hattie was playing her favorite pop song. She had turned the volume up way too high. Then Hattie sang along to the sexy song, doing a sort of stripper-esque dance. It was all to entice Steven. But he wasn’t really interested in her. He didn’t find her sexy or attractive.  He thought Hattie was a skank that tried to sleep with everyone.

Steven constantly stared in the mirror. He dressed well and he was polite. He was all American and good-looking. He couldn’t figure out why he always attracted this kind of person. Never the less, he went along with Hattie’s seduction. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

Not getting the response she wanted, Hattie decided to change into something even more revealing.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

There was loud, heavy knocking on the front door of the cabin.

Hattie told Steven to close his eyes and to not to answer the door. She wanted to be alone with him.

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

Again there was knocking. This time it became louder and more aggressive.

Steven thought someone this rude and impatient could only be Heinrich. 

Hattie announced that she was ready and for Steven to open his eyes.

BOOM! BOOM!

And just as Hattie opened the door to the bedroom...

BOOM!

The front door of the cabin flew open. In the doorway was the monster, with Beulah’s legs in its clutches.

Hattie screamed which startled the beast. It threw the legs at her. Then it lumbered toward Steven, fresh blood dripping from its claws and fangs. Hattie screamed again. The monster turned and roared in her direction. Steven had fallen off the chair he was sitting on and began to make a move toward the back door. The monster grabbed Steven’s leg and raised his talons.

Hattie screamed again. The monster roared more fiercely than before and dropped Steven’s leg. It trudged over to Hattie, who began screaming more loudly and consistently. This infuriated the beast. It grabbed her by the throat and squeezed until there was a cracking noise. Steven watched in horror as blood and human tissue gushed through the monster’s claws. Steven tried to gather his senses. Then he ran out the back door.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

Heinrich and Dot were still fighting. They weren’t in the mood to be disturbed. But he answered the door anyway. It was Steven. He told him to go away.

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

Heinrich answered the door again. He berated Steven for disturbing him and Dot and slammed the door in Steven’s face.

BOOM! BOOM!

This time Dot answered the door. The look on Steven’s face told her something was wrong. Dot could see a huge figure looming in the distance. She pulled Steven into the cabin and closed the door.

Once inside, Steven tried his best to tell Dot and Heinrich what had happened. Heinrich refused to believe him. Dot was enrapt in the story when -

BOOM!

The front door of the cabin burst open.

Standing in the doorway was the beast, gnarling and growling, still clutching Hattie’s severed head. The monster roared a fierce roar. Steven grabbed Dot by the hand and made a break for the back door. The monster reached over and grabbed Dot by the waist. It pulled her back in.

The beast raised Dot to his horrible fanged mouth and readied to snap her in two. Dot kicked the beast in the face, once then twice then three times.  It howled in pain and threw Dot on the floor. She lay in a lump, unmoving.

Steven stood frozen for a moment. He knew they couldn’t slay the beast alone. So he ran for help. Heinrich watched, then decided he didn’t need any help. He would make this monster his bitch. He jumped on to the its back and began punching it. The monster whirled around clawing, but couldn’t reach Heinrich.

The monster smashed Heinrich up against a wall. But Heinrich was resolute. No way was he letting go. It smashed him again and again. Finally Heinrich had to give up. He slid off the beast and made his way towards the back door. The monster jumps in-between Heinrich and the door. But Heinrich slid between the beast’s legs and started to run.

Slash!

With a swing of a claw, a talon caught Heinrich’s leg. He fell to the ground. He had no choice but to try and crawl away from the scene. Leaves rustled under Heinrich as he moved through the jungle. Behind him he heard a bellow, then the slow methodical thud of the beast coming after him...

Beulah, Hattie, Dot, Leroy, Steven and Heinrich are all performers. They all came to New York City to pursue careers in theatre.

Beulah is a dancer. She was offered an opportunity to perform. She prayed on it. Moving to a new city, finding a place to live and renting or buying a car for a year was too hard. Besides she had done this type of contract before. She believed she was past that point in her career. She turned down the opportunity because God said not to do it. She’s trudging away at her two day jobs.

Beulah's career died that night in the jungle. The monster got her.

Leroy was told he would never really make it in this business because of his weight. He was never fat, just not ripped. He was always on a diet and in the gym. He tried. He tried very hard. He was offered the same exact opportunity as Beulah. He took it. After a year away from the city he came back. He threw away the diet and workouts. Leroy ended up getting a performing gig rather quickly. The company that he did that year contract for was affiliated with another show. That other show is on Broadway and so is he.

Leroy's career escape the clutches of the beast.

Hattie is a singer. She has a smooth voice. Hattie chooses sexy songs to perform at auditions. Also she auditions for the sexy roles. To look at her, one does not think conventionally sexy. You think sweet and nice and friendly and fun. That’s why everyone loves her, except the people behind the tables. She confuses them by singing material not appropriate to who she appears to be. She doesn’t make the connection between not getting the job and the women who do get the jobs, the conventionally sexy ones. She gets out there, but she keeps trying to be something she’s not. And right now, the one things she’s not, is employed.

Hattie's career was the next to die in the jungle.

Steven was the same as Hattie. He had always seen himself differently than others saw him. He was different. He was good-looking but not handsome, a bit older but not too old, tall but not overly so, and out of shape but not fat. He has a leading man’s voice quality but not the conventional looks. So it’s an uphill battle. Steven has decided to stop going for roles that required leading men and move towards the roles that he looked like: a dad, a father of two complete with “dad bod”. He’s gotten more callbacks in a year than he has in the past seven years combined.

Steven's career sustained some wounds, but it looks like it’ll survive.

Dot is a musical theatre performer. She’s, short, petit and cute with huge eyes. She actually looks like a doll. Dot is almost thirty years old, but because of her size appears to be about 17 or 18. Her personality is strong and aggressive and she has been known to curse up a storm. She’s noticing that she can’t book a gig; not a grown up role or a kid role. She thinks it might have something to do with how she’s perceived in the audition room. She’s starting to investigate the possibilities of what action to take to help her be more cast-able.

Being thrown to the floor by the monster put Dot's career in a coma. Will she fight to survive, or just give up all hope?

Heinrich has appeared in my blog before. He’s a little guy who looks 15 but is really almost 35. Talented, yes. Stubborn and refusing to accept the fact that he will play teens for a very long time? Hell yes. He fights tooth and nail to avoid being type cast as a child. He’s even had major discussions with his agency about being sent on those kinds of auditions. But that’s the work he books.

Heinrich's career was maimed by the beast. He escaped, only to be institutionalized. Everyone thinks he’s crazy because he believes the beast is still after him. And it is.

What’s gotten in the way of each of these performers is their preconceived notions about who they are and how they appear. The monster in this movie is Ego. It’s the part of us that’s responsible for our sense of personal identity.

Having a healthy sense of self is very important in the business of Show. It helps us survive. It’s when that sense of self becomes over-blown, under-fed or just off kilter that the problems begin. There is too much negativity, too many “no’s” and far too much down time between gigs. That feeds the monster within. When the beast grows strong enough it, lives on its own. Then it rampages through the jungle, or country side, or suburb, or city, killing off good careers, and extinguishing potential stars.

These four couples, all beautiful people and all very talented, believe they are more than their external package. And they are. If they get higher on the ladder of success, they can have some control over which projects they take on. But for now, their package (both external and internal) is what will get them work. Without the work, these wonderful performers can’t get recognition. Without the recognition they can't climb up that ladder to gain career control. And it's career control they want. Then they can play sexy, play the leading man or to simply play an adult, on stage.

Don’t let your Ego monster, or fighting against your physical type, be the thing that keeps you from doing what you love.

In this horror film about performing, if...

“...Wanna save your skin boy? Wanna save your hide? You wanna see tomorrow? Better step aside...”

Live in living color...

Now where was I before I was interrupted by that public service announcement for actors (Baby fineness is the way to kill)

Oh yeah...

I was living the dream: Auditioning, taking classes and voice lessons. I was also doing shows, and working on the opportunity to get my Equity card. My friend Louise, with whom I shared the bitter bench, was also trying to get her card. As was Arthur. We were all in the same boat but approaching it different ways.

I was sharing an apartment, or rather sleeping on a sofa bed in the living room of Sean’s apartment. Sean and I met during what was to be one of my last non-equity shows. Sean introduced me to several dance teachers and class. Louise was a dancer. I had met her while taking class with Sean and Noah, another friend. Since Louise and Sean were friends, she and I became friends. She was making ends meet by assisting a well-known choreographer.

I had done summer stock with Arthur. When it was over I need a place to crash until I found an apartment. He invited me to stay with him, which I did until he kicked me out the night before I was to move into my pied a tier. He was going through some family stuff and needed space (but that’s another story) Naturally, I forgave him and we moved on with our friendship. It was he who needed help now. He asked for my former temp agency information. He signed up and was working in offices while waiting for his big break.

I was waiting tables on a dinner cruiser that sailed around Manhattan.

Arthur’s break came first. He was hired to do a TYA (Theatre for Young Audiences) tour. The company always had several tours going on at once. Arthur was lucky enough to be cast in one of them. At the end of which he was given his Equity Card.

Then Louise got her card doing a dance show at a regional theatre for a Broadway director/choreographer.

I was contemplating auditioning for the TYA touring company, but had decided not to. I had heard horror stories about them and the conditions they worked under. Though Arthur had had a fine time on his. When I told him I wasn’t going, he told me that was a bad decision. If I wanted my card this was the easiest way to get it. The other way, besides being cast in a standard Equity show, was to work at Equity houses for a point per week. After 50 points, or 40 points and a test, one could join the union.

I considered it. Fifty weeks was almost an entire year. And theatres have to actively participate in the point program. I think they pay some sort of a fee. Most choose not to be a part of the program.

After weighing the options, I went to the audition. It was my first real audition as a singer. I had transitioned from a dancer to a dancer/singer and now to a singer. I was worried about being seen. There are tons of singers in NYC. It turned out fine though. Since the company was quite used to hiring non-equity people, as long as I was there early enough and signed up before they closed the list, I would definitely be seen.

The audition went off without a hitch. The call backs were great. In truth they wanted me so badly that they offered me my choice of shows. I was dumbfounded. Never in my whole career had that happened. And the fact that it happened while I was auditioning as a singer blew my mind.

Despite my misgivings about the company, I picked a show and I took the contract. When the tour finished I would have my card. I would finally be an Equity member. However finishing the tour proved to be a herculean feat in itself.

There were six of us stuffed in a van full of sets and costumes and our luggage. One was a drunk. One was a narcissist. One was a doormat. One was angry and aggressive, and one was a “pot stirrer”. You know the type, someone who looks for any little issue and then they push that issue into a full out nuclear war. And then there was me.

It was six months of hell. I thought about filing an official complaint with Equity. In the end I decided it was not worth the effort. I had endured and I got my card. I thought no one would believe the word of a newly minted member anyway.

So many people had warned me about getting my Equity card. They all said joining Equity was easy. That was just being cast in a show. It was being cast in the second show that would take a while.

In the general professional population, the circles of contracted actors is incredibly small. The people behind the tables like to reuse performers if they can. It’s like buying the same brand of laundry detergent. You know it does the job, so why try something else. New, untried, unproven faces tend not to get very far. I think this is because most new members only have the one professional (professional meaning Equity) show or theatre on their resume. Hence they are to some, unproven.

That wasn’t the case for me.

If you remember, I had worked at an Equity theatre. I had done several shows, both musicals and operas, at an Equity house back home, while I was still in university. And while I wasn’t cast in the Equity portion of their seasons, the Theatre didn’t differentiate between the pre-season non-equity shows and the season’s equity shows, save for payment to the actors and ticket pricing. So getting my next Equity gig wasn’t as difficult as they all said it would be.

About four months after finishing the tour I saw an audition posted. It was for a show at a regional theatre quite near NYC. The show was to be the first production after the Broadway run. Most importantly there was a part in it for me. And before you ask, no I did not audition for the Broadway production, even after I was told I looked like the lead. Insecurities won that battle. But I was determined not to let them win again.

I got up early in the morning. I stood in line outside to get an appointment. I got an appointment. Then went home and prepared for the audition. I had the perfect song, the perfect headshot and the perfect outfit. I was ready.

I arrived ten minutes before my appointment time. Walked into the audition room. Sang my little song and walked right back out. Nothing. No interest what so ever.

My bestie, Thurston was also Equity, went to the call. At the time we were the same type, although different versions of that type. He went in. They loved him. I think he sang a couple songs. He got called back to read a couple times. We just knew he had the part.

A few weeks later, another audition notice was posted for the same theatre and the same show for that same role that both me and my bestie went in for. He was devastated. That’s how he found out he wasn’t cast. I knew before the notice that I wasn’t being considered for the role, so it didn’t affect me at all. In fact, I decided to go back and audition again. Same song. Same outfit. Same me.

I booked it. And not only did I book it, I got a good review from the New York Times. My second Equity show paid a nice weekly salary, gave me enough weeks for insurance and planted me firmly in the pension plan. And a New York Times Review!

Meanwhile, Noah, Thurston’s boyfriend at the time, wasn’t Equity. He was struggling with the city and auditions and the whole lot of it. I think there was something nagging at him. His boyfriend had his Equity card and had been on Broadway. He had not.

Noah took, what was at the time, a new route to getting his card. He had auditioned for and got cast at one of Disney’s theme parks. So he and Thurston packed up and moved down to Florida.

After my second Equity gig, I continued to work. I did On a Clear Day..., My One and Only (for the second time), a review show in Brooklyn, Miss Saigon, Joseph... (for the fourth time), Oklahoma, West Side Story, The King and I, My One and Only (again), Anything Goes and a host of other shows both new and old, large and small.

Louise decided Broadway was where she belonged. After her first Equity gig, she only auditioned for high profile things. Not only that, the projects had to take place in the city. She was a full on Dance teacher now, with classes at one of the most prestigious studios in New York City. She couldn’t go out to the regions and leave her students. This was her survival job.

Arthur high-tailed it to Germany to star in a show there. He also worked in the UK, under their Equity and then did two or three gigs back in the states.

After coming back from a long gig, I decided to set down some roots in NYC. My friend Helga and I had been sharing space in Sean’s apartment. We decided to find our own place. So we moved out of the living room in midtown Manhattan and into a three bedroom apartment in Queens.

Helga worked as a supervisor at a concessions stand. She was staunchly non-equity. It worked for her, meaning she worked all the time. She would go out on this tour and that tour. Then she would work at this theatre in New Jersey or Vermont or where ever. It was what she did. She was happy where she was. And now she and I had a comfortable home base to work out of.

I thought this was the life. I had finally paid off my student loans. I had my own proper bedroom with windows and a door. I had a great roommate, who mostly shared my tastes in decorating and living habits. I had my Equity card. I was set. Time to dig in and make a name for myself.

I knew continuing with classes and lessons was the way to go. It’s the quickest way to be in the thick of things. It’s also the only way to be ready to be hired. Naturally this takes time, so I tried to work as little as possible. But now I had financial responsibilities and they were starting to pile up.

Noah and his now husband Thurston are still in Florida. Noah is still working at Disney under an Equity contract. They have a house with a yard, two cars a pool and a vibrant social life. Thurston travels around Florida doing shows at small theatres after being on Broadway a couple times and doing tons of first national tours. They got stability. And insurance, and Equity jobs. They live and work as medium sized fish in a medium sized market.

Louise never made it to Broadway. In fact she’s only done a handful of shows after her initial Equity contract. She’s now a director and choreographer here in the city. She’s working on a new show with a star name that might just get produced on the Great White Way. So maybe some part of her will make it there after all.

Arthur knows what his type is. He keeps tabs on all the actors who are that type and what they’re doing. Since it’s a very specific type, those actors tend not be bounce around from show to show, but rather stay put for the length of a contract, be it Broadway or otherwise. I hear Arthur’s teaching voice now and just finished performing in a show. I wouldn’t know for sure though. After more incidents between the two of us, I decide to no longer associate with him. I’m sure he’s doing well though.

Helga got her secret wish. After yet another tour, she went home to visit her parents and met a man. She left our three bedroom bliss and got married. She still performs. She does those hospital patient things. She also sings with her band, which is becoming quite popular. She has a house, a husband and a small career. She’s still non-equity and she’s happy.

After being too afraid to go to a callback for a new (and later hit) Broadway show, I was now auditioning for Broadway. I had even been put on the waiting list for a show, but the show closed before I was used. The closer I came to Broadway, the further away the contract seemed to be. Somewhere in there I noticed the higher I climbed the professional ladder, the longer it took to book another show.

There were other things I noticed as well.

The salaries for Equity had little change. In fact special contracts and tiers were made to accommodate producers and to provide more work for Equity members. That’s great. But that work is paid at a lower wage.

Amir got his Equity card, got his Broadway credit and got out. The Business of show wasn’t lucrative enough or fulfilling enough for his tastes. He now lives in a refurbished farmhouse in Vermont. I believe he works for an insurance company.

The amount of points needed to join the union was lowered from fifty to twenty five. A slew of actors with 25 weeks of EMC (Equity Membership Candidate) work or more, officially joined the ranks of Equity. This flooded the union with much need funds to pay for new representatives in the regions and new programs. Most of which the common union members know very little about.

Manuel never had an interest in joining the union. Years before I knew him he was working constantly. And now years later he still is. He teaches, choreographs and occasionally performs. He’s never had a survival job. Ever. He’s always been able to live quite comfortably on what he makes from his non-Equity work. He and his husband just bought a house in Palm Springs.

New audition sign up procedures were put in place. No longer did one have to wake up at the crack of dawn and stand outside for hours in all kinds of weather to get an audition time. Now an actor just needs a fast internet connection and a prayer to get an audition slot. Or if that doesn’t work, one can wake up at the crack of dawn and stand outside in all kinds of weather to get one of the times set aside...Progress?

To qualify for the union pension, an actor has to be “vested”. I’m not quite sure what that means or how one goes about doing it. But you have to be in order to receive money when you reach retirement. I’m vested with the union. Although with finances being the way they are, I doubt I’ll ever be able to fully retire.

Once an actor is Equity, he or she can join the Actors Federal Credit Union. This is a banking system exclusively for theatrical professionals. They offer all the amenities of a regular bank, but the money in the bank works for the union members. There is even a credit card, which I have and need to pay off. So, while I wait and audition for my next performing gig, I need to have a day job.

Working as a waiter on the dinner cruiser was no longer an option. I wasn’t aware of it at the time but I was mildly allergic to the air conditioning system. I only found out once I had left for a long period of time. I gained three high notes to my register just by not working there. I was a singer now. I could not afford the effects of working that job. I abhor working in corporate offices so that is a last resort kind of thing. So I turned to working as a cater waiter. Good money, easy job and no pandering for tips. I have the ability to make my own schedule. That means I could work and still go to auditions and classes and lessons.

Pedro’s a really great dancer. He’s danced on Broadway several times. He’s even partnered Chita Rivera. He’s given up on the business though. He’s one of those people who went to school for medicine or law or something, got a degree and then decided he wanted to perform. He’s back to doing work made possible by his higher education degree.

Once upon a time there was a difference between union and non-union performers. The difference was never in talent or drive or any of the fundamental things that make a performer a performer. It was in what the union provided performers that we could not get elsewhere, like health insurance.

Now the government has made it possible for an individual to purchase health insurance. There is no longer a need to work a steady day job to get coverage. So even if an actor isn’t blessed with working 24 weeks on stage, or having insurance through a day job, he or she can still be insured.

The salaries for non-union work have generally increased. That’s not to say they are on par with production contracts, but non-union tours can pay as well as if not better than most SETA (Small Engagement Touring Agreement) contacts. Some non-union work even gives you a W-2, which could allow claiming of unemployment insurance.

There are now ways to plan for retirement as a non-equity performer as well. You can open IRAs, and online trading. There are a number of things that have the potential to generate funds for the golden years. But let’s be honest, even the best pension plans can go bust if the markets turn sour. We’ve seen it happen, as recently as ten years ago.

What Equity does give an actor is collective bargaining. That means there are people in place who, in theory, are looking out for an actor’s best interests. They set minimum wage amounts for actors. They set audition and working conditions for actors. They provide arbitration for grievances within the performing community and sometime outside the community depending on the programs available through the Actors Fund. Equity lobbies for more union jobs and boycotts places that break union rules and contracts. In short, Actors Equity is a security system put in place to protect actors from unscrupulous producers and illicit situations.

That being said, it’s quite rare to hear of a non-equity company, or theatre or tour that violates basic working conditions and human rights. Actors are not afraid to speak up. It may be on the down low, but you will hear when something or someone is more trouble than they’re worth. And if there is a company/theatre/tour you as a performer aren’t familiar with, it’s your job to investigate them BEFORE you sign the contract.

And always get a written contract.

Fast forward a few (ahem) years later and I’m still catering. I’m not taking dance classes very often. Most of the great teachers have moved on, one way or another. Not really taking voice lessons either. I’ve not found someone who can teach me what I need to learn, while honoring my type and my talent, who is affordable.

I still frequent auditions. Although where Helga and I once did seven non-equity auditions together in one day, I’m lucky to have one audition a week. Mostly because I’m selective of what I want to do. It’s also a tough online battle to actually sign up. It’s our “Hunger Games”. And I’ve aged into another category. Now I’m up against Tony winners and Broadway names for projects.

Everyone wants to work. Everyone wants to do good work and be paid their worth for that work. Actors Equity helps do that though the system they have set in place. Going Equity is the answer for a lot of the people, a lot of the time. But it does not work for everyone. A performer can have a solid, lucrative and long career without ever becoming Equity.

Broadway is the only true reason to get your equity card. You can’t work there without one. But are you ready for Broadway? I wasn’t. But now I am.

So I’m a union actor. I am staunchly pro-union. That works for me. For now. But I advocate not joining the union until an actor has significant credits on their resume. Delay getting your card until you’ve done all you can do in the non-Equity world. For some that means never taking the card. That’s especially true for older actors and actors that fall into marginalized categories. There is more work for them (us) outside of the union than there is inside, especially in the upper echelons of the performing world.

In the end, it’s each individual’s decision to go “pro” or not. There are no right answers. No wrong answers either. Just informed choices. The key word being “informed”.  

Find out what your type is, like Arthur did, and see where and how much those people are working. Then decide.

Realize what it is you really want, like Helga and go for that.

Know what your true passion is, like Pedro and do that sooner rather than later.

You’ll be happier, like Amir, once you stop chasing the thing you thought you wanted but couldn’t really care less about.

Or you can flourish without an Equity card like Manuel.

I’ve not gone into detail about all the wildly successful and well-known people I’ve worked with, like Chandra Wilson. We know their stories. We see them played out in front of us. We go to seminars and lectures and classes taught by them and dream about it being us. We secretly think that if we go to the same school, and play the same roles and do the same things they did, it will happen to us. We will become the next Norm Lewis or Gina Torres or Emily Skinner.

The truth is, there is no one definitive career path to fame and stardom or even booking a performing gig.  As an actor, you have to make your own choices. And one of biggest choices includes whether to join Actors Equity or not.

And if the first choice doesn’t get you what you want or where you want to go, choose again. It’s not a big deal, because...

“...Life ain’t lived in black and white.”