Everyone pop on over to RZCrow’s blog and wish her congratulations on her new baby girl

Congrats, RZ!

Sorry I haven’t updated lately.  I haven’t had much to say lately, especially with regards to theatre.  I’m feeling a bit disconnected.

I’m trying to jump back on track in a slightly different route:  storytelling.

I mentioned this before in another blog, but sometimes I feel like I’m not very creative.  Well, as far as originality is concerned.  I know that many people consider all the great stories to have already been told, and everything we write today is basically just a variation or more complex (or simpler) version of what has already been told, but still…

After I watched Dr. Horrible (you can get it on iTunes), I was inspired to write my own musical story.  I’ve always wanted to, but I’m musically retarded.  On top of that, my work skews towards the epic and dramatic rather than the short and funny.  I’m hoping to change that.

So I got this idea for a story for a short film a la Dr. Horrible.  I’m not going to give it away here just yet — I’d rather get it written and at least in the preliminary stages of production and then blog the process.

I’ve been developing my concepts and storylines, coming up with variations and such to give me some options and directions as to where to go.  I asked open ended questions of friends (e.g. Who is Everyman’s nemesis?, etc), brainstormed backstories and character profiles, and hummed tunes to myself.

I finally settled on a character and situation.  At a certain point in the story, there comes a point where I could take two different paths to two completely different stories.  Actually, it just occurred to me that I could use both — one could be the sequel of the other.

At any rate, I told one of the plot lines to someone else, and they said “That sounds like [insert favorite movie here] except with a different ending.”

Does that matter?
Should it matter?
Am I any less creative because my idea had already been thought of?

Sometimes I wonder.

I got a lot of comments regarding my post on Monday, “Why is NYC the next logical step?”.  Today I’d like to address some other thoughts on the issue.
Alison said,

I agree with Hans’ initial point so, so much. See, New York WAS the next logical step for me - but NOT the ending point, or even the capstone to my theatre career. We’re all striving for something different. And while no one would argue with a starring role, most of us willingly accept it’s a dream and not a reality.  (italics mine)

I disagree.  I DON’T think “most of us” accept that it’s a dream and not a reality.  I think most people our age think they can move to NYC and honest to God get on Broadway within six months.  You’ve learned the harsh reality of an actor’s life in NYC (although I’m pretty sure you already knew that going into it).  The point isn’t taking the NEXT step.  That I can totally understand.  My real question is… why NYC?  Why not Chicago or Asheville, NC or Atlanta?  Why does it HAVE to be NYC?  because Broadway’s there?  I don’t feel that’s a good enough reason.  But then again, like you said, everyone’s got different goals.

Hans said,

As for Scott’s comment: I’ve lived in the Prof’s own town for a couple of years now and am once again considering the very step he questions. The reason is that I’ve now been hired to direct at the professional regional theatre level, but I’m still working at a bar, often full-time. I’m on a new level now, professionally-speaking, and to really take advantage of that perhaps I need to locate myself in one of the major theatre centers of America. Because won’t most professional theatres across the country be more likely to hire someone out of New York than out of a small city in the mountains of Western North Carolina? It’s unfair and more that a little stupid, but the fact remains.

One of Scott’s consistent points is that there’s no need to go to Nylachi to “make it big”.  While that’s true in a sense, and while you make a good point (it’s unfair and more than a little stupid), it follows a certain logic.  Scott is fond of hearkening back to the medieval times, to the Elizabethan period, to commedia dell’arte.  He claims Shakespeare had a tribe, the commedia dell’arte groups were tribes, etc.  That’s true.  Very true.  But where did Shakespeare work?  In the equivalent of Broadway.  Where did the commedia dell’arte groups work?  They toured, often in major population centers.

To even take the analogy further than that, the way Shakespeare’s business model worked was more of a apprentice/master relationship than anything else.  The principal actors got the lead roles, and they apprenticed the youngest members.  Contract members were often brought in to fill in the supporting roles.  Incidentally, the apprentices (who weren’t paid, but were given room and board) often got bigger roles than the contrators, simply because the women were played by the young boys.

In other professions, an apprentice is sent to a master to learn.  These apprentices often come from poorer families in small towns and hamlets, while the master craftsmen are in larger towns and sometimes cities.  A young boy from Asheville, NC might be sent to Atlanta, GA to apprentice to a master carpenter.

In much the same way, moving to a larger area is like starting an apprenticeship or becoming a journeyman.  You can’t stay in your small town forever and still get better at your craft.  I think Hans is making the right choice — but I DO think that he’s doing it for the right reasons.  He’s considering moving to NYC because he’s established himself elsewhere and has been offered a professional gig.  This is majorly different than moving right out of college to NYC.

RebeccaZ said,

And, yes … I might decide to take our company elsewhere based on a lot of different factors (I’m past the age of 25 but still have a bit of wanderlust in me), but I’m glad to say that I gave Chicago a go of it, instead of always wondering what it would be like.

And this is the biggest reason why I plan to move to Chicago at some point in the future.  Not because I expect to make it big (like Alison, I realize that “making it big” is more of a dream than a reality), but because I expect to have a great time in a thriving theatre city and, worst case scenario, I can say “I went to Chicago, gave it a shot, and here I am.”

My biggest thing about NYC is that so many people romanticize it, as Hans said, and are willing to pack up and move to NYC and wait tables and such because society says that if you’re a theatre person you HAVE to go to NYC.  I disagree.  There are tons of other places you can go and get a similar experience:  Chicago, Atlanta, D.C., St. Louis.  I resent the idea that NYC is the only place that actors should go.

When I first started pursuing drama, my father was strongly against it.  Not because he hates theatre, but because he felt like I would never survive in NYC.  I finally sat him down and said, “Dad, I have no desire to move to NYC and ‘try and make it’, so you can rest assured that I’m not going to starve and live out of my car trying to break into Broadway.  If I ever move there, it’ll be because I am reasonably confident that I’ll have steady work and make enough to pay the bills.”  After that (and a few rather good productions I was in), he relented and now he supports my decision.

My father, like millions of other people out there, hear the word “theater” and automatically think NYC.

In my mind, that has to change.

C’mon folks.  Gimme a break.  Ever After on Broadway?  Are you kidding?  Can we please, as a theatre community, stop adapting movies to the stage willy nilly?  There are a bazillion stories out there just dying to be told — certainly too many to be rehashing the same pop titles over and over.

Of course, NYC is all about commercial business and entertaining the lowest common denominator, not about, you know… producing original art.

Don’t me wrong.  I loved The Lion King on Broadway, but it had nothing on the movie.

I mean, dude… seriously.  What’s next?  Die Hard: the Musical?  Grey’s Anatomy on Broadway?

It is with a heavy heart that I bring you news of the death of a very fine and talented actor.  Don S. Davis, whom I know from the role of General George Hammond from Stargate SG-1, passed away on June 29, 2008 from a heart attack.  He was 65 years old.

I’ve always loved Stargate SG-1, as you can see from my post on one of the phrases earlier, “If you immediately know candlelight is fire, then the meal was cooked long ago.” From day one, when SG-1 was on HBO, I saw General Hammond make the toughest decisions a person can make.  Davis did a fantastic job of showing the courage and toughness needed to deal in those situations, while still showing compassion and understanding and caring for those under Hammond’s command.

Last year, I bought Stargate SG-1 Season One on DVD.  When I finished that, I bought season two.  When I finished that, I bought seasons three, four and five, spent months looking for seasons six and seven, wound up buying seasons 8 and 9 to sit on my shelf while I waited for the two I was missing.  Finally found those, and then bought season 10.

I’d sit in my room for days and watch Stargate, and I was disappointed when Don Davis left the show, for health reasons.  I missed his courageous character and great strength.  I feel like I lived through six years of the Stargate team’s lives.

I’m saddened for this loss to the team of one of TV’s greatest sci-fi shows.  I’m saddened for other reasons, as well.  I am going to Dragon*Con this fall, and he was supposed to be there.  I was looking forward to meeting one of my role models.  Now that won’t happen.

Farewell, Hammond of Texas.  May you rest in peace.

Perhaps I should include more popular phrases from TV shows or movies in my blog (I am your father), since that seems to be the only traffic I get lately (You want the truth? You can’t handle the truth!).  You see, awhile back I wrote a blog about a phrase from one of my favorite TV shows “Stargate SG-1″ (It took us 15 years and 3 super computers to MacGyver a system for the gate on Earth.) and roughly 2/3rds of my 35 average daily visitors come from people searching for that phrase.

Kind of odd, I thought.  (Our affair, like our hotels, had gone from elegant with crystal to seedy with plastic cups.)

Incidentally, I just checked and my post “If you immediately know candlelight is fire, then the meal was cooked long ago” post is the #1 hit on Google for that phrase.  Go me!  Don’t believe me?  Check it out for yourself.

So what does this mean?  This means that maybe 5-8 people are actually reading this thing on a regular basis, and that 2/3rds of my “audience” accidentally made their way here.  (Okay, Radar, state your business, in one word or less.).  That’s not good.

That leaves me some options.  I can shut this thing down and focus on other projects, spending my time browsing other blogs, and make my presence known that way.  Or I could keep this up, keep writing for myself and the handful of people who read (but don’t comment) and wonder at all the visitors who don’t care about theatre and just want to know the meaning of Oma Desala’s phrase. (You’re worth two 43s, 86.)

I guess you’ll have to wait in terrible suspense (I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice chianti) until next week to see if I keep this up or not.

I wonder how many accidental visits I’ll get now.

Job hunting sucks. Believe me, I know. I’ve spent the past six months doing pretty much nothing but looking for a job with limited success.

It’s painful to look for a job for several reasons. One, you get your hopes up because you like this particular company and this particular position. And then they never return your calls. Second, even the ones you’re not THAT interested in aren’t interested in you. And third, there’s all this paperwork.

To my mind, the third is the most draining of all. I’m an actor. I can deal with rejections — just ask every girl I know (hah!). It’s the filling out the exact same information on every application that drives me nucking futs.

Look at Monster.com, for example. If you go there and try and apply for a job, it asks you to sign up. During this sign up period, it asks you for your name, address, phone number, work history, education history, first-born child, skills, etc, etc.

Great! I’m all signed up. Now, looking for jobs should be easy, right? I click the Home button on Monster, go back to the main page, and then I search for “web developer” in Atlanta. Tons of stuff. I rub my hands together and laugh a maniacal laugh. I’m going to find a job in no time!

Click on the first job that looks interesting. I click on “Apply Now!”

What’s this? A pop up window? To the website of the company I’m applying to?

And what’s this? Another form? They want my name, address, phone number, email, skills, work history, penis-size, education history, first-born child, ethnicity, gender, and social security number?  Didn’t I just fill this in on Monster?

Argh!

And every job entry is like that. What’s the point? They’re ALL asking for the exact same information, so why can’t they just set up a standardized form to accept from Monster, Careerbuilder, Hotjobs?

Tell you what. How about I send you my resume, if you like what you see and decide to bring me in for an interview, it goes well, and then you extend an offer, THEN I’ll spend 30 minutes filling out an application for your files. Sounds like a good deal, right? That’s what I thought.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to write a script to automatically fill in all these fields for me.

For those not in the know, Devilvet recently directed, starring Don Hall, Dave Goss, and Jen Ellison.  Unfortunately, due to a combination of factors, including the recession, high gas prices, rising unemployment (particularly on my part) and a sad-faced clown in a giant mushroom car who assaulted me on the streets of Atlanta with a giant rubber dong, I was unable to attend this most excellent production.

Fortunately, dv is creating an excellent webcomic, which you can check out at The Mammals, for those of us who were unable to attend.

No, this is not just a plug for dv’s webcomic (it’s great, though, check it out here!)  You see, Devilvet and I were Twittering about artists and our relationship with multimedia.  For those of you who missed it, it was a rather nice conversation.  DV  and I Tweet often, so if you’d like to follow along, go visit Twitter’s webpage and sign in, then visit the Director and Devilvet’s twitter pages and click on the “Follow” button to follow us.  I’ll write another post on Twitter, if you need help finding a decent client.  Or you could just use the website itself.

Where was I?  Oh, right, Elvis..  no, wait, artists.  Artists and penguins.  Multimedia.  Whatever.

So dv and I were discussing this issue and he asked:

what are the possiblities if we as theatre artists get over it and become narrative artists using multi-medium approaches?

To clarify, he’s referring not only to use in live productions but in ADDITION to our live performances.  His webcomic (i’m not plugging this webcomic.  dude, seriously.) is a great example of what he’s talking about.  Recently, I wrote a post regarding “While You Sleep” activities that theatres can do to boost revenue.  What Devilvet is doing with The Mammals is the same thing.  It may not be bringing in revenue, but it’s surely bringing in an audience.

So we chit-chatted about artists and media approaches and ultimately, we (by “we” I mean “I”) decided that this was too good of an idea to let up.  Why let audiences see our art in only one medium?  Why not branch out?  Here’s our conversation:

directorsector @devilvet Yes, technology does aid in that example. I’m pretty good at Photoshop/Illustrator, for instance. Let me put it this way, though

directorsector How many of your theatre friends are good at math? Most think the complicated computer stuff like Photoshop et al at least as tough to learn

devilvet well i think people have to learn skills to survive. Math and Photoshop included.

devilvet anyone who doesnt acquire these skills opens themselves to well being a victim

devilvet I increasing think that the future means that specialization in the arts must end. The truly exceptional artist in the future has to be able to utilize much more than an theatrical talent that comes naturally to them. Working hard at things outside your comfort zone that’s not art. thats life. we need a world with les actors waiting to be cast, and rather more collaborators ready willing and excited to share and participate in narrative storytelling. it wont be about pointing actors to their marks. it will be more involving than that

directorsector @devilvet You’re exactly right. Cant do it alone. So how do we go about cultivating artists who explore the realm outside their comfort zone?

So there we are.  How do we, as artists who want to inspire, create and share, expand our grasp of other media using modern technology (or even older techniques)?  And once we’ve learned to do that, to reach out beyond just live theatre, how do we reach out and cultivate other artists to explore other media as well?

I may not be able to draw worth a shit, as I mentioned to devilvet, but I’m pretty damn good with computers.  How can I utilize that expertise to share my art or expand my artistic influence?

What are you good at, besides performances/directing/playwriting?  And how can you tie the two passions together and share your art in other ways?

Congrats to Patti Lupone!  Took her 28 years, but she won again! Best Actress in a Musical Revival.  Great job!

I had heard lots of good things about all of the plays and musicals that were up for the Tony’s this year, but I’m ashamed to admit that I hadn’t had the opportunity to see any of them.  Yet I’m stoked.  I think the presentations were amazing and the performances by the actors and actresses in these dozens of plays and musicals were just absolutely phenomenal.

I was especially impressed with “In The Heights”, “Xanadu” (don’t laugh), and, oddly enough, “Grease”.  I was more impressed with the choreography for “Grease” than anything else.

I love the directing choices behind “The 39 Steps” with the switching of hats and such.  Absolutely brilliant.

I think I may try and take a trip to NYC later this Fall and see as many of these as I can.

When I was in first grade, I had my first role in a school play.  Actually, it was a summer camp play.  I played the old wise man in the story.  Since I didn’t exactly have facial hair in first grade, I wore a piece of paper cut into the shape of a beard, and we glued cotton balls on top to give it a white beard appearance.  There was string going into the sides that looped around my head to keep it on. Halfway through the performance, the string started slipping, my face was sweating and the paper ripped.

I had to hold my beard up for the remainder of the skit.  I was mortified.  I was absolutely positive that all six hundred people watching were laughing at me, and that I had completely destroyed any credibility I had as a person.

For the next twelve years, I refused to stand up in front of a group of people unless I was forced to.  In school, I would refuse to give a Current Event report.  I’d turn in my written draft, but I refused to present it to the class.  I didn’t do book reports, presentations, class skits, or school plays.  I took zeroes rather than present them to the class.

My junior year of high school, I was forced to present a scene to my English class.  A scene from “The Crucible.”  I played one of the adult men whose wife had been taken away for stoning, and my partner played the priest.  Honestly, he did a terrible job.  Very monotone and boring, while I was passionate and angry.  I felt pretty good about it, actually.  I decided in my moment of bravado to jump off the stage rather than walk around to the steps.  When I landed, I twisted my ankle and slammed my head against the front row of seats.  I was fine, but my ego was bruised once again.  Again, I refused to participate in any sort of public speech for years.

At the end of my freshman year of college, I was required by my school to take “Oral Communications” or speech class.  I opted to take it during a summer term, so as to minimize the time spent in that class.   Get it over with as quickly as possible.

Our first assignment was to read an excerpt from anything we wanted to the class.  I procrastinated and grabbed “The Hobbit” off my bookshelf on the way out of my dorm room.  I got to class early, perused the first couple of pages til I found a page that I felt would be entertaining.  “Hobbits are creatures…”  I’m a fast reader, so I was able to read a whole sentence at once and look up while I said it.

The grades came down and I got an A.  “You must have practiced.  Great eye contact!”

The second assignment was to give a 2 minute speech about a quality about ourselves.  Guess what I chose!  You’re right:  stagefright.  I was so scared.

I got up at the podium and began to speak.  My legs were shaking, my palms were sweating, I gripped the podium.  I shifted from foot to foot, I stuttered.  I said “uhh..”

“My uh.. quality is that I’m uh.. scared of uh.. getting up in front of people.  I, um, get really nervous, and I uh.. stutter and say Uh… uh… and I sweat and um.. shake.  And I feel like I’m about to, uh.. to pee in my pants.. It’s like, uh.. like you’re staring at me like.. that… and it makes me, uh.. nervous.”

This went on for the requisite two minutes.  I literally described everything I felt at that moment.  I was literally about to shit myself.  Finally, the whole ordeal was over and I sat down.  I shook for the rest of the class period, I was so nervous.

Grades came back.  I got another A.  “Great acting!” she wrote.

What?

What acting?

I was seriously nervous!

At that moment, I had an epiphany.  I realized that she honestly thought I had been acting.  She WANTED me to do a good job, and so she projected that desire onto my performance.  She would rather assume that I had acted than believe that I had done so poorly.  The rest of the class had convinced themselves of that, too.

Armed with this knowledge, I gathered up the courage to audition for the next Shakespeare production.  I had developed an obsession with Shakespeare following our 10th and 12th grade studies of “Julius Caesar” and “Macbeth”, as well as watching the film “Shakespeare in Love.”  If you haven’t seen it, stop reading this, go rent it and watch it.  Dude, seriously.

At any rate, the play I auditioned for was the Scottish Play, and I actually got cast and had lines!  By the time opening night came around, I wasn’t very nervous.  I had performed my bit in front of the cast dozens of times, and when the audience was actually out there, I didn’t even notice.

I realized that they paid money to see a GOOD performance.  They don’t want me to screw up.  They don’t want me to forget my lines.  So long as I didn’t go “OMG, WTF HAX!” I’d be okay.  So long as I didn’t admit that I messed up, they’d believe that I meant to do whatever it was that I did.  If I missed a line and Glenn covered it for me, they’d assume that was supposed to happen.  If I forgot my hat and had to walk back onstage to get it, they’d assume that was supposed to happen.

People will assume the best of you most of the time, and they will project that view onto whatever you do.

Ever since that moment, I’ve performed in dozens of shows on stage, I’ve taught for two years in public high schools, and worked in three drama camps teaching kids how to act and other aspects of theatre.  I think we can safely assume that I’m over that insecurity.

It’s not entirely gone.  There are moments when I get really nervous when I’m about to speak, or times when I really don’t feel comfortable speaking in front of people.  But by and large, I’m comfortable speaking.

As an actor (or really, this applies to anyone), self-confidence will help you with everything.  It will help you land jobs, make friends, make contacts.  Insecurity will diminish your options in those areas.  People don’t want to work with someone who’s constantly afraid of losing their job or afraid of hurting someone’s feelings or whatever.  They don’t want to hang around someone who’s needy and desperate.  People want friends who act sure of themselves, who act confident in their own abilities.

Self-confident people aren’t people without insecurities.  They’re people who have worked through their insecurities and are able to function in spite of them.  It’s okay to be insecure!  It’s okay to be afraid.  It’s not okay to let them take over your life.  Insecurity is like a self-fulfilling prophecy.  If you’re afraid of losing your job so badly that you act like you’re afraid of losing your job… you’re probably going to lose your job.  If you act like you know exactly what you’re doing, if you act like you’re going to be just fine, they’re much more likely to believe that you can recover from your mistakes and let you keep your job.

For the first 18 years of my life, I let my insecurity and fear get in my way.  I let it hurt my GPA in high school.  I let it keep me from making friends.  I let it keep me from meeting new people, from developing the social skills I needed so that I wouldn’t have to learn them later.

Now, I take my insecurities and push them aside.  I know that I can succeed, and I can’t let a tiny thing like fear get in the way.

This is different from false confidence.  Being self-confident means that you have to actually convince yourself that you can succeed, despite that fear that holds you back.  False confidence will get you nowhere.  False confidence is getting up there to speak, and then shitting in your pants anyway.

If you’re insecure about something — moving to a new place, speaking in front of people, auditioning for this show, applying to that school — just remember that people will think the best of you in the worst situations.  Use that to your advantage and don’t give in to fear and uncertainty.  Reach for that goal, and you’ll find you can make it.

Be self-confident.