There's a lot I am not certain of...

It’s the most wonderful time of the year...if you’re a doctor or lawyer or banker. For us artists this time of year can be daunting.

If you’re in school, presumably for the performing arts, most probably you’re home for the holidays. For me coming home from university meant having to hear my dad lament about me wasting time and money studying to be an actor. Then the family would jump in with their two cents.

If you’re out on a contract, most likely there’ll be some sort of holiday promotion or benefit you’ll be a part of. During the season it was always about which charity we were going to do work for. Or better yet we had to squeeze in rehearsals and then promotion work in an already heightened show schedule.

If you’re a working actor in New York, or L.A. or Chicago or wherever you’re pursuing a career, it means your day job is probably taking all of your time. Maybe it doesn’t even afford you the holiday off. My day job during the holidays does take the majority of my time. I cater waiter, which means the more holiday parties affluent people throw, the more work I have. That translates to more money in my pocket. That makes for a happy new year.

No matter what the case is, with the holiday season comes parties, reunions and family. Most of these get-togethers boil down to one thing: I'm a performing artist existing in situations populated by non-performing people. It’s not always true, but a great percentage of the time these non-performers have no idea what we do, how we do it or the fact that our doing it is a vital part of society. And even though the vast majority of people are ignorant about how the Business of show works, everyone has an opinion or an experience.

No matter what level of success we’ve had, the conversation at a party or reunion always turns to what we’re doing with our lives. And everyone almost demands you hear what they have to say about it:

“Acting isn’t going to make you money.”

“Your cousin Kelly is going to school for architecture. Why can’t you do something productive like that?”

“I was a ballerina. When I was in third grade I took ballet for a whole year.”

“I dated this actress once. She was hot but a mental case.”

“Why aren’t you on Broadway yet? You’ve been in New York for a whole year. I don’t think you’re trying hard enough”.

And on and on and on until someone comes up with the most original idea ever:

“Hey, why don’t you show us your stuff?”

For my dad, he always wanted to see me tap dance. We would be watching a movie musical (after I begged for hours to do so) and there would be a tap number. Inevitably he would say things like “I bet you didn’t learn that in class”, or “you probably can’t even do that”.

I would laugh it off and continue watching the movie, unaware that this would be a reoccurring theme in my show business life. At parties and gatherings I would be put on display, essentially reduced to being a performing monkey.

Every year, every party, every celebration it was always the same. It never stopped. It didn’t matter that I spent $65,000 on a degree. It didn’t matter that I was still basically in school with all my dance classes, voice classes, and acting lessons. It didn’t matter that I had to miss meals to afford to take those classes. It didn’t matter that what I do is just as important and necessary as what a doctor or lawyer or banker does. I had to be judged and proven worthy of the title of artist...by non-artists.

And every time I declined. 

Every time but once.

When my mom went into the hospital the last time before she died, the whole family gathered. One night it was just me and my oldest brother sitting in the hospital room. He turns to me and says “why don’t you sing something for her?” So I did. I sang the first thing that popped into my head, “Everything’s Alright” from Jesus Christ Superstar.

Try not to get worried

Try not to turn onto

Problems that upset you oh

Don’t you know

Everything’s alright

Yes, everything’s fine

And we want you to sleep well tonight

Let the world turn without you tonight

If we try

We’ll get by

So forget about us tonight

In the middle of my singing, to our dying mother, my brother says “You’re trying too hard to be perfect. Just sing, like this...” He proceeded to sing some song. I don’t remember which one. I was too upset on so many levels that it just got blocked out.

From that point forward I flat out refused to perform on cue. If I wasn’t being paid or if it wasn’t going to advance my career or fluff my resume I wasn't doing it. At parties when people find out I’m a musical theatre performer they inevitably ask to hear or see something. I simply say one of two things.

“I’m a professional. I get paid a lot to perform. Are you paying by cash or check?”

Or if I’m in the mood for a lengthy discussion I say:

“If I were a dentist, would you ask me to extract a tooth right here, right now?”

I love parties as much as the next person, probably more. But there is a difference in being a guest at the party and working at the party. If nothing else, catering has taught me that. I want to enjoy the festivities, not be a puppet with strings to pull whenever someone wants entertainment.

I don't need to prove myself or my worth to anyone.

What we do as artists deserves respect, just like any doctor, lawyer or architect. What we do as artists deserves monetary payment just like any banker, nurse or teacher. If those things aren’t forth coming, artists have to choose not to share their art. WE are a valuable part of society as a whole and should be treated as such.

You as a performer have to stick up for yourself. If you aren’t being paid, or it isn’t advancing your career or putting a notch on your resume think long and hard about why you would do it. And then don’t. Before anyone will respect you, you have to respect yourself and your Art. Otherwise you’ll spend every holiday party hearing...

“...Why do I pay for all those lessons? Dance for Grandma. Dance for Grandma!”

...without a song or dance what are we?

It’s December first and I’m just posting November’s blog. November was unusually busy with work and trying to raise funds for the show I wrote. I did write a blog and it would have posted on time had I figured out what the heck I wanted to say. It turns out that blog was coming from a place of negativity which made the task of putting a positive spin on it almost impossible. Like I said there was a lot going on.

Awhile back my friend Lisa had noticed that I had become very negative and very depressed. Nothing was going right in my life: no love, no job no nothing. So she challenged me to post one thing I was grateful for everyday for 123 days.

Every day for 123 days I would post something I was grateful for along with a countdown to number one. Some days it was difficult. Others it was easy. By the time the final days came around I was constantly searching for something to be grateful for. All day long I would literally think I’m going to post about being grateful for this or for that. The whole day was spent being grateful. After the challenge was over I really missed posting about my gratitude.

Doing this challenge altered the course of what was happening in my life.

When it came time to blog for November I didn’t want to do the usual Thanksgiving, count your blessings thing. Been there done that. Besides I was so angry about a few things that had happened and disappointed by what more than a handful of people had done or didn't do as the case may be. The only things that came out while writing my blog were, let’s say, not nice. Or inspirational. Or helpful in anyway whatsoever to anyone.

I thought about the people who would read the blog. What would the high schoolers get out of it? And I remembered seeing a picture on Facebook that said “be the person you needed when you were young”.

All through elementary school I was a star pupil; kind, polite, reserved, you name it I was it. Through a little trick I maintained a straight A average. I’ll share that trick another time, maybe. At any rate, in the fifth grade I was reading on a college level. In the sixth grade I would finish the entire days’ worth of school work within an hour. I was lucky enough to be chosen to “student teach” the kindergarten classes in the afternoon. I think they did that just so I would have something to do.

I had tons of friends

Junior high came and things started to change. My trick for maintaining high grades wasn’t quite working. I actually had to do a little homework, but just a little. I joined clubs like the Yorkers, a New York State historical society club and Junior Achievers, a club for future entrepreneurs.

I had a few friends.

Then High School happened. And as fate would have it, High School started for me before puberty did. I was left behind by my “friends” because of all the hormones flying around. I say “friends” because in elementary school my “friends” only wanted the answers to the school work. In Junior high school my “friends” only wanted to borrow money. None of which I ever saw again. And now I had nothing to offer those “friends”.

So there I was starting High School friendless. There was only one high school in my area. All the kids from three different junior high schools were stuffed into one building. (I say stuffed like it was some huge sort of thing. There were only 350 people in my graduating class). My whole safe small middle class world was blown apart. There were kids there I had never seen before. Attitudes I had never encountered. Rich kids from a part of town I didn’t know existed were there. My mother knew them. She was friends with their mothers. And she knew that if I were to succeed in life I needed to have an edge on them.

Immediately my mother started with her insistence that I do stuff that looked good on a college application. I would go to school, hate every moment of it, then go home and be nagged at about my grades and homework and what I did or didn’t do for college. My brothers and sisters were a nuisance at best. They were star athletes, scholars and popular. Then there was me, the middle child.

I focused on everything I didn’t have and everything I wasn’t. And it got to be overwhelming.

I decided that I wasn’t worth the space I took up on the planet. It was time to give up that space and let someone more worthy have a little more room to live and thrive. I decided that I was going to kill myself.

One night I was alone in the kitchen. I took a steak knife out of the draw. With both hands I grasped it. I aimed for my heart and took a deep breath...

“Just one more day.”

A voice in my head said just wait one more day.

So I did.

The day started out just like any other day. I had no prospects, no desires, no needs and no dreams. I was just there. My dad woke me up. I got ready for school. I had breakfast with my mom. And again she started in with the nagging about joining a club or doing something that could be put on a college application. In order to get her to shut up I promised I would join whatever club had a meeting that day.

Off I went to another day of hell in high school.

In homeroom I listened to the announcements closely. If nothing else I was a man-child of my word. Whatever club had a meeting, be it the chess club, or swim team, or descendants of Egyptian kamikaze sumo wrestlers, it didn’t matter. I would choose one and I would join.

Luckily, there was no choice to be made. Only one club had a meeting that day. Only one club was looking for new members. If you’ve read the very first blog I posted, or visited my website you know which club it was. But just for clarity sake it was the Drama Club.

Soon I would have a purpose. Soon I would have goals and dreams and a group of friends that liked me for me. And thank god soon after my 16^th birthday, puberty hit. With doing two major musicals a school year, my life made sense.

Flash forward X amount of years and here I am. Do I still struggle with all the things I struggled with in high school? Sure. Those things don’t go away. I just learned how to deal with them. And all the while I’ve lived life. I’ve traveled around the world, performed in several countries, lived in Europe, toured the United States with shows, met some amazing people, had the show that I wrote performed in New York City with people from and destined to be on Broadway. I have an apartment, I have a job, I have a career. And I have friends, great friends from all over the world, that love me for exactly who I am. All this makes me feel special.

I now realize I’ve always been special. And guess what? So are you. Everyone is. The trick to Life is finding where your special fits into this world. And trust me it does fit somewhere. I know it does because I found where mine fits. It just takes time to search for that place. 

The holidays can be rough for so many people for so many reasons. As the season begins in earnest, let me be that voice in your head that says “one more day”. Let me give you the hope and strength to find where you fit in the world.  Take all the time you need. There's no rush. You have your entire Life to find it. And once you have, always be grateful for it.

#1...

"...I say thank you for the music..."

slinging hash feeling so rejected...

Here I am writing September’s blog post. Yes I’m well aware the first week of October has already come and gone. You see, what had happened was...

At the beginning of August I was lamenting that I hadn’t taken a trip out of New York for almost two years. I needed a break. Living in the City can wear a person out, physically, mentally and spiritually. I had promised myself that this summer I was going to get away. I had nothing happening except my day job. Even the audition scene was on vacation. But not me.

I had found that I disappointed myself by not following through on my promise.

One day I was chatting with my bestie Thurston while he was driving. He’s down in Florida, where he lives. And he changes the subject:

You’re gonna hate me.

Why would I hate you?

I don’t want to tell you.

Tell me.

No.

Do it!

Finally Thurston tells me he booked another show. He’s doing “The Full Monty” about an hour away from his house in Florida.

That’s great. You booked yet another show and I’m doing nothing.

See? I knew you would hate me.

I don’t hate Thurston. He’s talented and very lucky. He works a lot. Then at this point in the conversation his husband, Noah yells into the phone:

I’m doing a show too! I’m in Spamalot.

Noah is another one who is always working. I think it’s great. I just want to be one of them. I want to be one of the people who are always working. It’s just not worked out quite that way.

You should come see it!

Noah and I have a love/hate/love Frenemy kind of relationship. So for him to want me to come see his show meant it was a big deal. Not even when he played The Baker in Into the Woods did he invite me to see it.

Since both Noah and Thurston were both in shows at the same time and they overlapped each other I considered going. I started to check out the price of tickets. I fiddled with the dates a bit to get the cheapest flights. I compared it to the traditionally slow time at my day job and what was happening in the theatre world as well.

Since a whole lot of nothing was happening, especially in my professional life, I booked an excellent priced fare to travel down to Florida. Thurston and Noah invited me to stay with them so the overall cost of the trip would be low. At the end of August, two days after I booked my first vacation in two years, it happened.

When I read the email title I was shocked:

Congratulations! Your musical was chosen to be in our fall new works series. Reply needed

WTF!

I had completely forgotten about it. It had been awhile so I just figured I didn’t get it. But in fact I did. McGurk's Suicide Hall, a fictional account of actual events wasn’t even completed yet and it got pick to be in a festival.

Of course I accepted.

In the space of ten seconds my life went from boring and dull with nothing happening to hyper-charged deadline or die stuffed with meetings and casting and rewrites and auditions and music and new people and excitement and work in my chosen profession.

Oh yeah, and in the middle of all of this a vacation to Disney to see my besties in their shows down in Florida.

So September was filled with getting the show finished and ready. Rewrites are done. The music is almost done. We’ve hired a great music director. We’ve posted audition notices, had auditions and call backs. We’ve cast the show. Lost cast members and are recasting those parts. Rehearsal have been scheduled around our actors conflicts and rehearsal studios booked.

The New Works series pays for some pretty expensive things like a theatre, and tech staff and the back of house staff, box office and staffing and insurance. Everything else is left up to the individual shows. We were in the midst of raising money on Rockethub.com, a crowd funding site, when our project was picked as a finalist in Ovation TV’s Creative Studio.

The project’s crowdfunding will start on October 19 when the final leg of the contest begins. Three winners will get some additional funding compliments of Ovation TV and a segment on a new TV show next year about the process.

WTF?

I took my trip down to Florida. It was a welcome getaway, but not a total escape because with the Ovation contest comes a whole list of other things that needed to be done on top of the huge pile already heaped in front of me.

My besties shows were great. So proud of all that Noah and Thurston have done and are doing. I finally got to see what I call “Harry Potter Land” down in Disney. It was awesome. I unexpectedly ran into some old friends who were down in the Florida area and missed seeing some others who were there as well.

I’m back in NYC now. Recharged and ready to go. It’s a good thing too because on top of everything that’s going on, I’m directing the musical as well. We started today, Monday October 12 at 11am.

When you’re involved in something that lives and breathes everything can change in a split second with a call or an email. This is the reality of Theatre. It’s unpredictable. And you have to accept that fact and be ready to roll with it or be left behind. Because just when you think life is boring and uneventful and there’s nothing happening for you...

"...Lightening flash! You get resurrected...Don’t it go to show you never know".

Whose head is crowned with flames...

August was a special time in my family’s household. Both my mother and my father had their birthdays. The weather was at its second peak of perfection for the area. The first being autumn with its crisp air and changing leaves. And August signaled that autumn was coming.  More importantly as a child it was the time we took a family vacation up to Canada to Crystal Beach.

Crystal Beach was a magical place complete with an amusement park. Every year we kids would look forward to our trip. And every year it never occurred to us that this trip signaled the end of summer. School would begin in September and the summer fun was over. Learning and classes and homework would be on the schedule all too soon.

I went to a private Catholic university. It was so private and so Catholic that there were separate dorms for boys and girls. There was no visitation between the sexes. If a guy went to see a girl at her dorm he would have to check in at the front desk. Afterwards he would then wait for her in the lounge area. This was the only place the two sexes were allowed to be together. That’s how Catholic it was.

As part of the curriculum, every student had to take three philosophy classes and three religion classes on top of the usual university requirements and on top of the requirements for your major. I hated philosophy. It was so meaningless to me. It was just a bunch of people whinging on about “does life exist” and “to know an orange is to be that orange”. That last one was how a professor started the first day of class. I was like “Oh my god get me out of here”.

Needless to say I slept through most of my philosophy classes.

The religion classes however were a different story. I found them interesting. Okay honestly I found one teacher’s set of classes interesting. Dr. Sadkin taught us to dissect religion and to dissect the bible. We learned how to discern what would be our own personal truths through religion and its study. I’m not a very religions person. Spiritual yes, religious no. So I never thought these classes really applied to me and my life.

It wasn’t until years later that I realized even the classes you believe don’t apply to you and that you think you’ll never use in life can have some application. If you think outside of the box everything you learned in school is useable. It can be superimposed upon your life today to help make it easier to do anything from painting a wall to balancing your bank statement to raising children of your own.

At a private Catholic university, I learned that religion with its teachings and dogma can be applied to non-religious situations. In fact in our Theatre 101 class, at a private Catholic university, we had to write a paper comparing a religious ceremony to theatre, citing how they differ and how they’re alike.

My paper concluded that a religious ceremony and a theatrical production were one and the same. At times even the message was the same. That paper was written so long ago that I no longer have the stone tablets it was carved on...

Do you see where this is going?

At the basic level the Catholic religion can be boiled down to Ten Commandments. These teachings will help as a guide through any area of life. You just have to apply a little creativity and interpretation. This is something I learned to do at a private Catholic university.

So without further ado...

Ladies and gentlemen! The Ten Commandments of Professional Theatre:

Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s role, thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s dressing room, nor his paycheck nor any thing that is thy neighbor’s.

This is the hardest of all commandments. Nearly everyone wants to be a star. Why else would there be reality shows, competitions and sex tapes. An actor should to be grateful for simply being involved in a production.

Based on the needs of the show, the actor has been selected to do a job. It’s the best one that fits both the actor and the production at that time. If an actor wants a different job he or she needs to hone those skills to get it. With experience and training come better roles, bigger dressing rooms and in the perfect world larger paychecks.

Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbor.

The director or choreographer or stage manager gives an actor a note. That actor explains why it wasn’t his fault. He or she then continues on to blame another actor, prop master, wardrobe crew, or anyone breathing for the screw up.

“TTNASU” (Take the Note and Shut Up).

If there truly is a problem bring it to the attention of those in charge. Let them suss out the situation. An actor may not know all the circumstances prior to the instance happening, therefore blame may be wrongly placed.

Thou shalt not steal focus.

If a play or musical is directed properly attention is placed on what actor/action is important for the audience, in order for the audience to follow the story or message. If that actor/action does not involve a particular actor, then he or she needs to give focus to what is important. It allows the story to unfold properly and the audience members to easily and quickly go on the journey the playwright has intended.

Thou shalt not date or sleep with thy fellow performers.

Ninety-five percent of the time romantic entanglements end. If it ends during the run of the show and it ends badly, that can spell disaster for the production. Remember, the fourth wall is just imaginary. Chemistry and energy flow between the audience members and the cast members over the footlights. No one wants to watch two romantic leads who personally hate each other. They may not know what’s going on but that energy, that tension can make it uncomfortable for the audience. Let’s not even get into cast morale.

Thou shalt not kill another’s dreams or aspirations.

Talent is subjective. What some may call worthless others may call pure genius. Therefore you are not the end all and be all purveyor of talent. Your opinion counts as merely your own. Keep it to yourself. Sometimes you will be pressed for critique by a fellow performer who you find lacking in talent. Rather than sparing their feelings by saying “Girl, you were up on that stage!” or being brutally honest with “Your voice is awful” give a concrete assessment. For example say “the high C at the end of the vocal run was under pitch”. It makes you seem like you were really invested in the performance and that you care enough to try and help.

Honor thy creative team and backstage crew. 

One person does not a show make. Not even in a one person show. There are a plethora of people who help contribute to what happens on stage including but not limited to the director, musical director, conductor, stage manager, sound tech, lighting tech, wardrobe, the running crew, the props crew, the ushers, the box office team and so forth and so on. The actor is not more or less important than any other person involved in creating or running a show. Everyone has an important role to play and should be treated as such.

Remember your day off and keep it holy. 

Because of the nature of performing, it’s typical to only have one day off a week. The singular day off should not be used to do the things that could have been done any other day of the week like grocery shopping, banking and running general errands. Use the day off to recharge your batteries, spend quality time with loved ones or go to church if that’s your thing. Broaden your mind, renew your spirit and rest your physical being.

It’s important to remember that not every Actor is privileged with being employed. When the “day of rest” happens, don’t proclaim it on social media thanking the universe and saying how much you’ve looked forward to/earned the day.  Because those actors not currently employed could see it as being ungrateful. And then negative energy is created and the focus of it is you.

Besides if you truly were that exhausted and in need of a break from the world, you wouldn’t be on social media anyway.

Thou shalt not take thy employment in vain.

If an actor is lucky enough and prepared enough and right enough to garner a contract it’s a special thing. It’s sacred. Treating landing a contract, no matter how large or small the contract or the role, like an everyday occurrence is ungrateful.

In case you missed the news, only about 2% of Actors Equity members are working at any given time as performers. Two percent. Any actor getting a contract has joined an elite few. These actors aren’t elite in talent or looks. They’re simply blessed that someone somewhere wanted to hire them to do something other than their day job. This should always be revered.

Thou shalt not make any graven image, or any likeness of anything that is not how thou looks in real life. 

An Actor worth his salt will tell you there are three things that can stall or kill your career. The first is not being prepared. This covers everything from an audition to a call back to a table read. Homework must be done. Without it an actor leaves a bad impression.

The second is a bad attitude. The actor and creatives have to work in a room together for eight hours a day six days a week during rehearsal. The people behind the table do not want to be confined in a hot sweaty space with someone who is negative, elitist, or an egoist.

The third thing that can stall or kill a career, and in some cases the most important and easiest to fix, is a headshot that does not represent what you look like when you walk through the door.

If an actor has been called in based on his or her headshot, the people behind the table believe this actor matches what they envisioned in their minds for the part. From the hair color, cut and style, to the clothing and over all feel of the picture. An actor has a hefty barrier to overcome if the real doesn’t match the headshot. After battling illness, nerves, clothing decisions, material decisions and prep, getting to the audition on time, getting mentally prepared, blocking out all the “chatter” around the audition site, blocking all the mental “chatter”, an actor does not need an additional thing to combat once that audition room door is open.

A headshot is a calling card, a still commercial for the product you are selling. If the people behind the table want to buy what you’re selling make sure that product is what walks through the door.

There shall be no others before me.

When I joined the Drama Club in high school I had no idea so many family traditions would end. My life was now filled with stage crew, rehearsal and shows. Then because of Drama club I auditioned and was cast in a summer performing troupe for children, The Experience Players.

The Experience Players toured New York State during the month of August. This meant no Crystal Beach. No last hurrah before school. My family still went. They just went without me. I was living the life of an Actor.

To live a life in the Theatre is all encompassing especially when you’re young, just starting out or just getting back into it. As a working actor, you will fore go many a family tradition, party, reunion, and all types of celebrations and holidays, including religious ones. All because you are a working actor.

Being a working actor means going to auditions, taking classes, networking, going to the gym, seeing shows, supporting fellow artists and generally trying to move a career forward. On top of all that an actor needs time to decompress with hobbies and recharge with “me time”.  We may think we can do it all. The reality is there are only twenty-four hours in any given day. An actor must make choices as to what to do and what not to do.

Anyone starting out on a career path in the Performing Arts, wanting to make the life long trek to their personal Mecca needs to be ready to make a huge commitment. An Actor needs to initially forsake all else: money, security, material things and even family. He or she needs lots of energy and drive.

Mostly an actor needs a thick skin, a keen mind and a hearty sense of humor. Without all of these things, pursuing a career in Theatre is like choosing to walk across the desert without any water. It can be deadly. It can kill your mind, your body and your soul.

Hopefully before all is lost in the black pit of despair, someone somewhere will say to the actor as I say now...

“Turn back o' man forswear thy foolish ways...”

...In the rich man’s world

As the summer season begins to draw to a close actors will finish up with their contracts. No matter how many contracts you’ve done, in stock, in the regions or on Broadway, the shows all eventually close (except Starlight in Germany. That thing’s been running for almost 30 years). Then an Actor’s thoughts turn to “What’s next?” After my first summer stock gig away from home I stared head on into the void of this question.

This was a new experience for me. I never had to decide what to do before. In the past I did what my parents told me to do. When I went away to school I did what my teachers told me to do. There was no choice.

Now I had options to weigh. Take another contract with the company, which meant working through the fall up until Christmas or do a show with the musical director I had just worked with, back in my hometown. Due to a lifelong fear of being stuck in suburbia, I chose to take another contract. I would be making $85 a week, instead of doing a Christmas show at home making $220 a week.

After that $85 a week contract ended, “What’s next” reared its ugly head again. At this point the question was at least partially answered. I was going home for Christmas. I was always home for the holidays. One of the hold overs from growing up under the reign of Emperor and Empress Dad and Mom. I didn’t mind though. I loved being home for the holidays. No place is more magical than my hometown during Christmas. However this holiday season there was a different kind of magic in the air. No sugar plums danced in my head. The only thing in my head was the thought of moving to New York City.

Three of my friends from University, Fred, Hazel and Lester had all moved to the city to go to grad school. Fred went to Columbia while Hazel and Lester went to NYU. I too had toyed with going to grad school, but decided I’d had enough of schooling. I wanted to move on with my life. Still I was jealous of those three for taking a chance and moving.

While I was home during this particular holiday season I was in contact with another alumnus who graduated with me, Contadina. She was working a regular job in the area. After much conversation we decided we would move to New York City together. We had a plan to conquer the unknown hand in hand, much like we did when we went to the NETC’s together and got our first away from home theatre jobs. The only thing we didn’t have was a definitive moving date. And that scared me.

As a child I knew I had to get out of suburbia. I hated it. It was boring, and everyone knew my family and our business. There was no anonymity, no escaping the drudgery of life there. Besides that my parents’ number two rule, number one being “you live in my house therefore you live by my rules”, was if you lived at home you had to be in school or have a job. Grad school was out. Having a job meant putting down roots. Putting down roots meant staying in suburbia. Not an option.

So I got nervous. And antsy. And impetuous.  After New Year’s Day I announced to the world that I was moving to New York...in two weeks. I called Contadina and told her of the plan. She said she didn’t want to go so soon. She needed to make more money for the move first.

So I left her in suburbia.

I had been to New York before, but on January 15 I came to the City with the intention of living here. I had three suitcases, two hundred dollars and just me.

Plane ticket $300

Baggage fee $50

I had contacted Fred, who was living in the dorms at Columbia. He didn’t have a roommate at the time. The other students in the quad had people stay with them, so he thought he could as well. He also thought it would be a great help if I had a place to stay for a while until I got acclimated to the City.

I arrived on a Friday. I quickly found I hadn’t fully thought the move through. I had a temporary place to live but I needed work to support myself. Two hundred dollars wasn’t going to stretch very far. Another friend of mine whom I had just performed with was already living and working in the city. He gave me the name of his temp agency.  I had some office skills so I thought office temp work would be a great fit. On Monday I went in for an interview and placement testing.

I started doing temp work right away. There were times however when I didn’t feel like getting out of bed. So I didn’t go into work. That’s one of the perks of being a temp. You can work or not work as you choose. However there was one time where I had no choice. I had enough money for one subway ride, after I had taken the quarters out of my loafers. So it was either go to work, make money and then walk home or go get the check, cash it and buy some groceries to eat.

I picked up the check.

Monthly NYC metro card $116

Food $20 per day (not including eating out or ordering in)

I also went to as many auditions as possible. Not an easy feat when booked for weeks at a time as a receptionist at Morgan Stanley, Price Waterhouse, Skandia America and the like. But I did book performing gigs. The “loafer quarter incident” came right before a two year stretch of constant performing work. That’s why I had come to New York to live and perform...and to use my new headshots.

Headshots have different looks and requirements depending on where you’re home of operations are based. No matter how great the photographer was back home, those pictures aren’t going to be on par with the ones from New York or any other major theatrical city.

Before my first stock job away from home ended, I was able to have my pictures taken by a cast member. I skipped having to search for someone. He was from New York City and a budding photographer. He knew that headshot world. My only task was picking two pictures and having them retouched. Then have the pictures set with my name and a border of some sort. Only then could I take them to be reproduced in mass quantities to be used at auditions.

Headshots $1000

My rent free time at Fred’s had come to an end. The University had gotten wind of all the unauthorized people staying in the dorm and pulled the plug on it. So I moved to a rent free stint at another friend’s place in Brooklyn.

After graduating with me, Jean had moved to the city for work. She had an entry level job at MTV. She was also auditioning and doing cabarets and shows. Staying with her only lasted a week or so. The guy who took my headshots had booked a show out of town and needed a sublet. I was in need of a place so it was a match made in heaven.

I packed up my things. With the help of Fred, Lester and Jean I moved from Brooklyn to Washington Heights...on the subway. It was an adventure. We still talk about it to this day. Unfortunately Hazel wasn’t around for this monumental move. Before entering her second semester at NYU, she decided City life and the life of an actor wasn’t for her. She quit school and moved back upstate.

Now on top of the monthly

Cell phone $120

came the monthly expenses of:

Electricity $100

Television $60- $200 depending on the provider and the package

Internet $30

I was subletting a furnished place. Everything was there that I needed. I didn’t even have to purchase sheets. Otherwise I would have had additional expenses. My friend Helga who moved to the City from Albuquerque was also living in a sublet. Hers wasn’t furnished. She was living out of free milk crates from the grocery store and a blow up mattress.

Furniture - $?

It’s a necessity for any performing artist to be completely connected to the web with a fast reliable system. These days everyone who’s been through school has some sort of computing/printing system. The system should be capable of video and audio recording, Skyping, printing good quality prints on a variety of paper and of course be wireless.

Laptop/Computer $500- $2400

Printer $100

Thanks to friends I had a place to sleep and a place to work. I had the materials for auditions. So as things kept rolling along I started to take class.

The Performing Arts do not exist in a vacuum. It’s a vast community of artists and teachers and networking. Moreover techniques in dance, voice and acting get rusty when not applied and exercised daily. An actor has to take some sort of class. Besides keeping up on the aspect of talent that’s the money maker, to be more marketable an actor has to expand and build on peripheral talents as well.

Monthly Voice lessons $400

Monthly Dance classes $400

Acting/Improv lessons $400

I was honing my skills, meeting people and making friends. We would go to auditions together. We would help one another out with leads on jobs. We would circulate information about apartment sublets and share which classes were good and which to avoid. My friend Arthur told me about an audition once. I ended up booking the gig. It was there I met Manuel who shared an apartment with another dancer.

Manuel lived on 187^th street. It was a one bedroom apartment.  The other dancer spent most of his time on tour so Manuel wanted someone to split the rent with him. I was finishing up two years of constant theatre work. I would bounce into town for a small stint and then it was back out again. I had no base of operations save my three suitcases. I was going to be needing a place to call home. So I moved in with the two of them. 

Manuel was subsequently assisting a choreographer on a theme park show which I auditioned for it and then got cast. All the people in the cast were wonderful and we became fast friends. We had so much fun that hot and wild summer. It was there that I met and became friends with Amir.

Amir was of German and Egyptian descent and he was beautiful. When he walked into any room, everyone stared at him, guys and girls alike. He had chestnut colored hair, olive complexed skin and the most amazing crystal green eyes. To top all of that off he came from money. A lot of it. His father would write a twenty thousand dollar plus check every semester for his university tuition.

Amir was graduating with a degree in dance. He was moderately talented. That’s to say he had talent but he was no more talented than anyone else. His dancing was fine. His singing was fine and his acting was fine. Like a good majority of people, he dreamed about moving to New York and being on Broadway.  So he made a decision that after he graduated he was moving.

Amir and I got along amazingly well. We had become such good friends that we decided to find an apartment to share when he moved to New York.

Very small Studio apartment $1300 per month

Broker’s fee $2500

Move in cost (first month’s rent and security deposit) $2600

However we were young performers with little to no credit history and an erratic job history. To rent an apartment we needed a guarantor for the lease. The guarantor is someone who is legally responsible for paying the rent for the length of the rental agreement if the signed lease holders are not be able to do so. That person has to make one hundred times the monthly rent of the apartment, have outstanding credit and limited financial liabilities. According to some brokers the guarantor also has to live in the tristate area, which consists of New York, New Jersey and Connecticut.

When I left home I vowed not to ask my parents for financial help. I didn’t want to put that kind of pressure on them. My two younger siblings would be looking towards college soon. I didn’t think my parents could financially handle that and me and their home and their cars and their lives.

Finances weren’t something we discussed in my family. We had everything we needed. And within reason we had everything we wanted. When we could afford some extravagance we had it. When we couldn’t we didn’t. The ways and means of middle class suburbia are that simple.

So in truth I had no idea if they could’ve financially helped me even if I had asked.

Recently on Facebook I saw a post from a former colleague of mine about this very thing:

"There is a drunk girl at a bar yelling that all people on Broadway have their rent paid by their parents. And that everyone that goes to auditions has their rent paid by their parents. #Delusional"

Amir’s dad ended up being the guarantor for the apartment. That didn’t make a difference for me though. Between the time Amir and I had worked together and his move to New York, Amir and Manuel had worked together. How it come about I don’t know, but they’d decided to find an apartment together. The other dancer living with Manuel and me was gone. This left me out in the cold, especially when I discovered Manuel had been forging a name on the lease.

But that’s a different story.

Amir moved to the city. He and Manuel got an apartment in midtown Manhattan. Amir proceeded to audition, take class and network. He didn’t have a day job. He lived off the dividends from the stocks his Grandfather had given him for graduation. Within two years he had a production contract on Broadway. A year later he got disillusioned and not only left show business but left the city.

Jean had worked up to middle management at MTV. She was still working on performing and actually booked a paying gig. Then the woman she was subletting from kicked her out. Jean didn’t like the instability of it all. She moved back upstate.

Contadina finally saved up enough money and moved to New York. Once here she didn’t have to work a day job to support herself. She proceeded to audition and take lessons. Before she went through the entirety of her savings she booked a performing gig. And another. And another. Six Broadway shows and countless regional and stock gigs later, Contadina’s still working.

That recent Facebook post:

"There is a drunk girl at a bar yelling that all people on Broadway have their rent paid by their parents. And that everyone that goes to auditions has their rent paid by their parents. #Delusional"

Continued on:

"...I guess she was in the business at some point but left because it was so expensive to take classes and audition...she yelled down the bar that she didn’t care if everyone here was a Broadway star “I know their parents pay their rent”...I’m sorry she didn’t have any success but people who did aren’t spoiled. They are probably more talented, confident, and driven."

As I look back on what I did all those years ago, moving to New York City with just two hundred dollars, three suitcases and refusing to ask for my parents help, I’m astonished that I’m still here. Out of my graduating class there are three who are still pursuing performing: myself, Contadina and Lester. Talent, confidence and drive only play a small part. Most actors leave the business because of the cost of living associated with Life in the Arts:

One-time costs:

Plane ticket $300

Baggage fee $50

Broker’s fee for apartment $2500

Move in cost $2600

Furniture $?

Monthly costs:

Studio apartment $1300

Metro card $116

Food $560

Cell phone $120

Electricity $100

Television $60- $200

Internet $30

Voice lessons $400

Dance classes $400

Acting/Improv lessons $400

Intermittent costs:

Headshots $1000

Laptop/Computer $500- $2400

Printer $100

Add it up. Multiply the monthly costs by twelve. Factor into the equation that only two percent of Equity members are working as performers at any given time. Then subtract the median income of those performers which is roughly $7,500...per year.

I’ve been in the city for some time now. Though the initial two hundred dollars and three suitcases are long gone I have survived and made a life for myself.

My friend Helga, who lived out of milk crates, and I ended up renting and furnishing an apartment together. She’s since gotten married and moved back to Albuquerque. Now it’s just my name on the lease. And all the furniture in this three bedroom apartment is mine.

It’s time to have new headshots taken. I’m making an appointment with a professional New York photographer. I’m planning it for the end of August or the beginning of September.

I cater and teach. I’m back to choosing between working, auditioning or going to class. I would rather be financially stable. But honestly no job these days provides true stability.

When both of my parents died, my inheritance enabled me to live for a few years without a day job. During that time I auditioned, took classes and lessons. This helped me book high paying high profile gigs.

I also booked high profile gigs with theatre celebrities while working 60-70 hours a week at a day job.

There’s no rhyme or reason. Having help from your friends, from your family and from your colleagues isn’t a crime. Doing it on your own is not a necessity. Planning and saving is just as good as winging it. Success or failure doesn’t depend on how you do it, just that you do it.

If you find yourself asking “What’s next?”  be prepared. What’s next could be a move to Chicago, LA, Toronto, Vancouver or New York. Understand that when you attack the “What’s next” question it should be unique to your life, your needs and your level of comfort. Do not try to follow someone else's trajectory. It’s imperative to know what you personally need to thrive. Maybe it’s money like Contadina, or familial support like Amir or massive help from friends and colleagues like me.

Any way you do it, surviving in the city of your choice is tough. There’s a lot of hustle, a lot of work and a lot of sacrifice. In truth no matter what you do or how you plan, where you come from or where you’re going, at some point in your life and career you’ll be just like me asking yourself "What's next?".

I now know the end game. Whether I’m performing in a big budget musical or schlepping to a survival job, "What's next" is always the same...

“...I work all night, I work all day to pay the bills I have to pay”.

Another chance to disapprove, another brilliant zinger...

June is Tony Awards month. And with the Tony Awards comes triumph and heartbreak. With this one night Broadway is shaped and molded into what it’ll be until the next wave of shows open. Careers are made and lives forever changed.

The Tony for best actress in a musical was a tough decision. You had new comer Leanne Cope, Beth Malone, Broadway legend Chita Rivera, and Stage Veterans Kristen Chenoweth and Kelli O’Hara, who had been nominated six times without a win.

By the way I secretly believe that Kelli O’Hara and Audra McDonald are the same person. I’ve never seen them in the same room together. And personally I think they look uncannily similar.

This year saw the first win for Kelli O’Hara, or Audra II as I call her. So I guess that would make this Audra McDonald’s seventh Tony win. You go girl!

Along with the Tony Awards comes the tirade of social media opinions. Everyone sounds off on which shows/people won, which shows/people should have won and which shows/people were snubbed. Heated discussions ensue. And then comes the backlash about the heated discussions. An old colleague of mine threw his hat into the ring with this Facebook post:

“Could EVERYBODY just for ONCE be grateful for what we do and the time and effort that people put in to create and do the Tony Awards ... if any of you arm chair critics were lucky enough to have landed one of these shows that were nominated for a Tony , I'm quite sure your posts would be of a different nature ... everyone's entitled to your opinion but REALLY ??? this is what we DO ... LOVE and SUPPORT people... LOVE and SUPPORT”

I recently went to a seminar about producing commercial theatre, mainly musicals, on Broadway. The reason I went was simple. I wrote a full length book musical. I want that musical to eventually be on Broadway. I know nothing about that aspect of the business, producing a show.

The composer of my show was out of town performing so I went to the seminar by myself. I had no idea what to expect. I just assumed it would be a lot of old washed up actors trying desperately to stay connected to the business by whatever means they could. I also assumed I wouldn’t know anyone there or have any connection to that part of the business. Well I couldn’t have been more wrong. 

The demographic of participants was varied. And yes it did include some very much older show business types. It also included some very young show business types. It included several current Broadway actors as well as new Equity members. In attendance were several people I personally and or professionally knew.

From across the hallway during a break, a Broadway actor and I immediately recognized each other. We squealed with delight, like actors do when seeing each other after a long absence. We hugged and then proceeded to catch up. Seeing her brought back so many memories.

The production we did together was the first time the rights for our show had been released. Our production was the first production of that show regionally after the Broadway run. It was being produced close enough to the City that a myriad of Broadway associated people came to see it.

This was a big deal for me. It was only my second Equity show. And it was my first professional experience being the romantic lead in a show, complete with romantic ballad. My bestie Thurston had been initially called back for the role, but he didn’t book it. I booked the role, after having been cut from the initial audition and then going to a subsequent call for the same role.

Ah those early innocent days of auditioning...

Recently I was in line waiting for an audition. There were about ten people ahead of me, including a woman directly in front of me and a young guy in front of her. The woman looked like she was a “broad”. You know the type: loud, boisterous, pants wearing, been there done that kinda gal who could kill you with one look. The guy was your typical young best friend of the boy next door: quirky-nerdy, nice, and sweet. wouldn’t hurt a fly. The monitor gave us the usual lining up in the hallway speech which includes being respectful of the other actors in line: be quiet, let people focus, don’t use your phones etc. So the three of us stood in silence with the others waiting for our individual turns to audition.

Slowly the line dwindled down. Now I was third to go in the room. Ahead of me was the broad and ahead of her was the young boy. The young boy, who was now at the door, next to go in, turned to the broad and said:

“This is my first Equity Audition. I don’t know what to do. Do I walk in and give them my picture and resume?”

I thought “there is nothing loving and supportive about to happen here...”

After one performance of my second Equity show I was on my way out of the theatre when I saw a friend of friend. He was one of the Broadway people who had come to see this first mounting of the show. I had met the guy a couple of times. I didn’t really know him. He didn’t really know me. As I passed him I said hello. He stopped me and said “Boy, you were up on that stage, just singing and dancing”. I thanked him and went on my way, happy that he seemed to like the show.

I found out later that the guy hated me in the show. He thought I was miscast and talent free. He wanted to not say anything bad about me or my performance so he said something nebulous and vague. He let me, a young boy next door, quirky-nerdy, nice, sweet green-horn newbie make a natural conclusion that he enjoyed the show and my performance. He was under the impression that he was being “loving and supportive.”

If the guy were truly being supportive and nurturing and loving he would have taken me aside and voiced his true opinion. Being a veteran of Broadway, I would have taken his words to heart. Perhaps at that point he could’ve suggested acting teachers or vocal coaches. But because he wanted to “be supportive of all actors and show love towards his fellow performers” he let me go on stage all the while believing that what I was doing on stage was crap.

I’ll never know if my performance was good or not. Does an actor ever? The New York Times liked it and so did many others. There were some who missed the point of my character/characterization and thus reviewed me badly. Or maybe they completely understood, agreed with my friend’s friend’s assessment and reviewed me properly. At any rate these people shared their impressions of my work, good or bad. It was then up to me, as a professional to heed or revel in what they were saying, or just leave it alone. They provided me with the opportunity to learn something about myself and my Art. I could grow as a performer.

I replied to my old colleague's Facebook rant about being loving and supportive...

"...Although I love and support theatre, since it's what I do, Theatre is a business. Do you think Bankers or Brokers love and support each other? No. What about real estate agents? Do you think they're all saying "Good for you Josh Flagg for selling another 20 million dollar estate"? No. They are sizing him up, breaking him down and dissecting him to see what he is doing that they aren't. The people with ambition will try and improve upon the "performance" and surpass it, fix what they see as imperfections and take it to a new height. They ready themselves to take his place. It's this that keeps businesses growing and changing. Artists do the same, except with rawer emotions. And this is what the Theatre needs to survive: growth and change. What I would say is that we as artists need to HONOR what each of us are doing as important and vital and necessary. Sure love and support what you truly care about, what ignites something deep inside of you what moves you, entertains you and delights you, But love and support just for the sake of love and support? Eh, not so much"

Being loving and supportive for the sake of being loving and supportive is counter-productive. It’s like giving baseball teams trophies for showing up. It diminishes the work of the team that won the World Series and devalues the World Series itself.

Some people believe that the Tony Award for best actress in a musical should’ve gone to Chita Rivera. She’s a show biz living legend. Chita’s like 107 years old. She’s been there and done that, and still does it better than anyone else onstage today. When she performs you can’t pull your eyes from her. She is a star and the stage lights up when she’s on it.  Just on principle alone the Tony award should have gone to her. That’s my opinion. And right now my opinion in this matter has no bearing on the outcome. I don't exist in that aspect of the business. And first and foremost Show business is a Business.

I learned in the producing seminar that the budgets to campaign for a Tony Award win are HUGE, like millions and millions of dollars. And for whatever business reasons, maybe because of the Tony campaign, the committee decided to award Audra II the statue. It’s not always about talent. But it is always about Business.

I later saw that friend of a friend, the "you were up there singing and dancing" supportive loving guy, in a show on Broadway. He was horrendous. And quite frankly it made me happy. The man had an amazing singing voice but he could not act. Not even a little bit. You’ve heard the expression “can’t act his way out of a paper bag”? Well this guy wouldn’t be able to act his way out of a paper bag even if a saber-toothed tiger ripped it open for him. 

I chose to say nothing about the show and nothing about him or to him. He didn't deserve my opinion and insight. He was not worthy of love and support. He didn't deserve to have an opportunity to better himself.

My opinion of his lack of acting ability was later validated. His acting was so bad that a condition of him being cast in another show was that he had to take acting lessons. At the end of the lessons the production/creative team would assess whether he would actually be cast or not. That’s good business: protect and hone your investment. That’s nurturing. That is being supportive. That’s a business professional caring enough about someone else in the business to not leave him in the dark about what's really happening. 

The broad and the young boy's interaction continued before he entered the audition room:

Young boy: This is my first Equity Audition. I don’t know what to do. Do I walk in and give them my picture and resume?

Broad: (very sweetly) No. The monitor has already taken in your picture and resume. You just simply walk in and say hello. Then go straight to the accompanist and give him your music. Make sure you give him a tempo. It’s really important to give him your tempo. You walk to the center of the room and signal to the accompanist that you’re ready to start. Then you sing.

Young boy: Thank you so much.

And with that the young boy opened the door and walked in, confident he knew what to do.

I have no trouble voicing my opinion. It’s mine and it counts only as mine. It’s as important as you’d like to make it or it’s as trivial as you believe it to be. I voice my opinion because I care. Hopefully it will give you new information or a new perspective to consider. Maybe it will even make you think about and asses your own views and why you have them. Perhaps it will stir you to educate yourself, hone your talents and better equip you for the world you want to live in. That’s love and support.

As I listened to the young boy sing his heart out, and he was awesome, I turned to the broad.

Me: I hope I’m not interrupting your focus time, but I wanted to say thank you for being so kind to that young boy. Not many people would have been.

Broad: Yeah, no problem. I didn’t have the heart to tell him none of it matters, not even what he sings, since they’re just sizing him up like a piece of meat.

"...I’ll drink to that!"