How How, ****ers! I just got cast in an Equity Showcase. This reminds me of a story…
Many moons ago, when I had been in the city less than a year, I received a call from a woman in a journalism program. She got my number from a mutual friend. This student wanted to do a story about struggling actors. As I had once written for my school paper, and because I hoped to have an interesting story to write about in this space someday, I agreed to be the subject of her article.
Based on the questions she asked I have to assume that her principle interests lay in what Bruce ****bell calls the “Fs†of acting: fame and fortune. How much money was I making? How much did I expect to make eventually? How many big projects had I done to date, and how many more had I set my sights upon for the future? Approximately when would I become a big star?
She was mightily disappointed with my answers. I told her about the job I had just finished, which was a showcase for a company here in New York that paid the princely sum of a $70/month stipend (a 30-day Metrocard was $70 in those halcyon days). “Shock†doesn’t begin to describe her reaction. “WHAT? That’s IT?†I can still hear her voice on the phone. Her shock quickly morphed into disgust. “Why would anyone do that?â€
I tried to explain that the showcase is a jumping-off place to larger things. Industry people would come to see me, local papers would do reviews, my resume would receive a much-needed jolt of legitimacy, and my craft would benefit from the wisdom of the more experienced members of the cast, which included several Broadway veterans.
Despite my best efforts to the contrary, she was ultimately turned off from her conversation with me. The article that resulted was pretty downbeat and negative. I got the impression that she wished she could have spoken with a “real†actor—somebody working the big F jobs. I mean, if I were any good whatsoever, I’d be getting better work, right? Whatever.
Sadly, I find a similar reaction from some of the prospective actors that come to meet with me. They want to know how long until the dream jobs will come around, and they are patently not interested in anything less.
I used to think that “paying your dues†meant training in a good program and then spending a year or two interning and waiting tables. I now understand dues paying to be a very long term process—five years at the absolute minimum—of constant training, auditioning, showcases, low-paying theatre jobs, student films, indie shorts with microscopic budgets, and even self-produced pieces. It’s a long road wherein the frustrations greatly outweigh and outnumber the moments of success. However, it is the inevitable road that all professional actors must travel if they hope to reach the magical land where they earn a good living exclusively from acting work.
The “win the lotto” approach to an acting career, in which you only pursue what you deem to be major opportunities, and only so long as you can stand to do so, has a miserable success record. My approach may not be as glamorous, but it’s alot more effective. As time goes by and my thespianic and marketing skills grow, along with my body of work, I am slowly but surely gaining regular access to the kinds of opportunities that, eventually, may allow me to tread the magical land.
