Poised

Through the trigger’s steadfast spark will bullets start their quest.
Throttles pulled with strong intent wake engines from their rest.

Only clouds’ thick, thunderous rolls will unleash water’s plume.
Action’s steadfast gate will chase despair to meet its doom.

Springing forth ignited by the courage but to start,
lays waste to all the darkened doubt and welds the hopeful heart.

Embrace Perspective

I’ve talked about curveballs before; that exciting moment when what is expected and what is delivered are two different things, opening up an element of innovation for new ideas or experiences not before considered.  Working with Madi Distefano on one of my audition monologues was no exception.  As I had said before, there are two ways to handle a new turn.  You can resist or take it in, paving the way for new energy and perhaps forging new elements.   Although I am inexperienced with monologue coaching, only having done one other with Kate Galvin at the Walnut during one of her audition technique classes, I walked in to this coaching with more confidence, having picked a monologue with which I was comfortable and intimatly familiar.

But I knew that if I was going to get anything out of this, I would need to allow the monologue to get away from me.  I had to, in a sense, dis-own it and allow it to be adoped by someone else for a short time to see how it could evolve.  This is a great exercise in flexibility and trust and one that is incredibly important on the stage.  Allowing for the things that we don’t expect make for some of the more rewarding experiences in performance and in life.

Over the next 50 minutes, the monologue, and my viewpoint on it, took on a completely new angle.  I learned aspects of pacing, inflection, physical elements and how I could transition emotions using the lines instead of using the spaces in between them giving the words a flow that I hadn’t considered before.  The collaboration was exhilerating and eye-opening.  It was as if we were brainstorming a new invention and working on the prototype.

Holding my monologue and pages full of notes, I smiled to myself as I hit the elevator button for street level.  I knew that with every experience gained and every piece of information added to my arsenal, I was getting closer to what makes me fly.

Equity Realized

As I walked through the thriving masses, carried by the sound and pulse of the City, I thought about why I had decided to do this in the first place.  The clock was ticking, with only 30 minutes before the office closed, so I quickened my pace; my heart racing along with my steps.  I ducked in to my bank to get the money needed for the initiation fee, not ashamed of the thrill it gave me to announce to whom the check should be made out.  Stepping out again into the quickly dwindling day, I made my way across the throngs of Broadway, the seed of my dreams.  As if on cue, an actor embraced a friend right in front of me, announcing with excitement that he got a callback.  I smiled to myself; understanding the torture of waiting and the joy of finally getting an answer.  I silently wished him all the best and hoped he never gave up.  Finally arriving at my destination, I made my way up the elevator to Membership with a feeling that could only be described as the exhilaration that comes from taking the actions necessary to push a dream into a physical reality.

After a brief scare of thinking that my name was already taken (all member names must be unique), I paid my dues, received my temporary card and thanked the clerk.  I took a moment to savor what had transpired before heading to the Audition floor.  I looked at the wall covered with clipboards; flipping through the pages filled with the names of other hopefuls who wanted to make their dreams a reality.  I wished them all well and couldn’t wait for my name to be among them as I began the next stage of my journey.

Instead of bing intimidated or scared about diving in, I’m feeling a huge weight lifted off my shoulders at having finally made the decision.  I’m happy because I know that I won’t regret having never tried.

Curveball

I finish the first read, take a deep, concluding breath and break character to let them know I was done.  Instead of the customary, “thank you,” which would be my cue to exit the room, the director looks at me and gives me some new suggestions; asking me to sit instead of stand, and to play the words in a slightly different manner than before.  I am instantly infused with a new energy as I feel my body and voice relax for the task at hand.  I look at the words, see how I can play them to meet his needs, and I start again.

“I want you to do try something for me.”

I love hearing a director say this during an audition.  After cold-reading a complicated monologue, I always welcome the chance to play with it a bit and give it a second go.  The more a director can throw at me the more relaxed, yet energized, I become. 

I notice that I have this type of reaction to change during a show run as well.  As the show naturally evolves, changes on the stage are a normal occurrence.  Co-leads do different things; walk to different places on the stage, deliver lines with a new dynamic that I hadn’t thought of before, and I’m immediately energized by the change.  Their shift in dynamic allows me to react in a different way, bringing new life to a scene.  Even more, if someone forgets a cue line and I need to steer us back on track, I notice the new burst of energy that comes with the task at hand.  The excitement of live theatre and why I love it is never lost on me. 

The curveball can either be the cause of frustration as one grapples with their resistance to change or can be the source of great excitement, steering one in a new direction that hadn’t been considered before.

I finish the second read, happy with the outcome.  I thank everyone, get my music from the pianist and leave the room.  I step outside and notice that I’m breathing deeply and grinning from ear to ear; looking as one might look after exiting a thrilling roller coaster ride.  I walk to the elevator, push the button and say to myself, “Well, that was fun!” 

I never tire of it.