Last Frontier Theatre Conference: Day 3
Jun. 15th, 2008 05:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
adiva_calandiaToday has been a kick in the pants, a slap in the face, and a proffered hand, all in the most polite and optimistic yet brisk manner possible. The message overall? This -- theatre, what I want to do -- is not easy, and if I want to do it the way I want to do it, I'm gonna have to work.
Examples: An hour and a half listening to a panel on how hard it is and how much work it takes to be an actor in LA.
Going to yoga and realizing that I'm neither as strong nor as flexible in some areas as I thought.
Getting up in a workshop, starting my monologue, and being told I was doing exactly what I'd intended not to do (including going up on lines a third in).
But all of those were mitigated by things like: A panelist mentioning what great opportunities there are for theatre on the Internet, and having a personal moment of realization that I have the chance to contribute to that now (HEY GUYS IF YOU HAVEN'T CHECKED OUT ZOMBIE RADIO YET GO NOW, AUDITIONS CLOSE TOMORROW).
The satisfaction of knowing that I have the self-discipline to haul my sorry butt out of bed at 7:30 AM and go to yoga, and to do that for the rest of the week and improve.
The thrill of recognition, the moment of That's how I write! That's how I act!, when listening to the monologue coach work with others and tell them that this isn't about becoming someone else, this is about putting yourself in the given circumstances and letting the character come through you.
Being told, immediately after "You need to do your homework on this monologue," that "You have great energy, you're adorable. Do your homework, come find me later in the week, we'll grab a room and work on this." Not to mention the satisfaction of having finally told my self-doubt and anxiety Fuck you, I'm going to get up there and do this monologue instead of sitting here worrying that I'll suck, and if I suck, I'll get better.
It was, in many ways, a very scary day. I was shaking when I got off the stage of the monologue workshop, and I felt almost ill when I heard all these professional successful actors talk about how little you make off commercials, how hard it is to succeed. But I need those. I need to be able to look at how scared I am and say "Okay. I'm scared. This is hard. Is that going to stop me from doing this?" Because if it is, I may as well go be an administrative assistant and make way more money than I will acting.
But if I can say fuck you to fear and go ahead and try to do something, even while I'm shaking with nerves -- then maybe I'm where I belong.
I think this icon has never been more appropriate.
Good day.
(Walking back to the dorm listening to "It's Hard to Be A Saint In the City" was awesome, too. I need more Springsteen, dude.)
Examples: An hour and a half listening to a panel on how hard it is and how much work it takes to be an actor in LA.
Going to yoga and realizing that I'm neither as strong nor as flexible in some areas as I thought.
Getting up in a workshop, starting my monologue, and being told I was doing exactly what I'd intended not to do (including going up on lines a third in).
But all of those were mitigated by things like: A panelist mentioning what great opportunities there are for theatre on the Internet, and having a personal moment of realization that I have the chance to contribute to that now (HEY GUYS IF YOU HAVEN'T CHECKED OUT ZOMBIE RADIO YET GO NOW, AUDITIONS CLOSE TOMORROW).
The satisfaction of knowing that I have the self-discipline to haul my sorry butt out of bed at 7:30 AM and go to yoga, and to do that for the rest of the week and improve.
The thrill of recognition, the moment of That's how I write! That's how I act!, when listening to the monologue coach work with others and tell them that this isn't about becoming someone else, this is about putting yourself in the given circumstances and letting the character come through you.
Being told, immediately after "You need to do your homework on this monologue," that "You have great energy, you're adorable. Do your homework, come find me later in the week, we'll grab a room and work on this." Not to mention the satisfaction of having finally told my self-doubt and anxiety Fuck you, I'm going to get up there and do this monologue instead of sitting here worrying that I'll suck, and if I suck, I'll get better.
It was, in many ways, a very scary day. I was shaking when I got off the stage of the monologue workshop, and I felt almost ill when I heard all these professional successful actors talk about how little you make off commercials, how hard it is to succeed. But I need those. I need to be able to look at how scared I am and say "Okay. I'm scared. This is hard. Is that going to stop me from doing this?" Because if it is, I may as well go be an administrative assistant and make way more money than I will acting.
But if I can say fuck you to fear and go ahead and try to do something, even while I'm shaking with nerves -- then maybe I'm where I belong.
I think this icon has never been more appropriate.
Good day.
(Walking back to the dorm listening to "It's Hard to Be A Saint In the City" was awesome, too. I need more Springsteen, dude.)
