Time: November 16, 2007
So, I just signed an exclusive contract with Cunningham, Escott,Slevin and Doherty or CESD. I've been meeting with several of the top commercial agencies over the past couple of weeks, and although it was a tough decision, I truly feel that CESD is the agency for me. The on-camera agents, Adrienne, Dedra and David are professional, fun and friendly, and it's obvious that they know the business. CESD has a strong presence on both coasts, so when I'm in NYC working on a film or a play, I can keep on auditioning.
I started my acting career doing TV commercials, and I've always enjoyed them. I can still remember the first acting class I took in Houston, Texas. I was 10 years old and Lee Duran, my acting teacher, handed me a piece of paper. On it were the words to the Oscar Mayer jingle we all now know and love. The song that taught kids and adults around the country the proper spelling of that funny smelling circular piece of meat often found slapped between two pieces of white bread and slathered with mayo and mustard:
"Myyyy bologna has a first name, it's O-S-C-A-R.
My bologna has a second name, it's M-A-Y-E-R.
Oooooohh I love to eat it every day
And if you ask me why I'll saaaaaaaaaaaaay
Cuz...
Oscar Mayer has a way with B-O-L-O-G-N-A!"
(Applause)
I remember how much fun I had in that class. Acting should always be that fun.
I worked on several commercials as a teenager and in college, but while in Paris and NYC, I decided to take a break from actively auditioning for them. I needed time to be fully immersed in my process work and that required me to back away from the smiley, lighthearted acting many commercials call for. Over the years I've learned that although commercial acting, film acting and acting for the stage each call for a very different set of of skills, all them, ideally, are based in truth.
It's kind of like speaking different languages... When in France, you speak French. When in Spain, you speak Spanish. But in either country, you still have to listen to what the other person is saying to respond truthfully. You still have to speak clearly to be understood.
Right after signing my contract, I got my L.A. Casting account up and running by going to the office and scanning in my headshot. Much to my surprise I received an email two days later notifying me of first L.A. audition the following day. Nice! I know that commercial auditions are a numbers game, so I hope to be going out very often. I'll keep you posted!
I Gotta Write about the STRIKE
Time: November 11th, 2007
So I'd planned to continue to go back in time and write about my past experiences as an actor in NYC but I'm taking a detour today. A detour to the present day, that is. You see, I just moved to Los Angeles last week and I've been settling into my new home in the Los Feliz/Silverlake area. I love, love, love the neighborhood -- The Trader Joe's on the corner, La Parilla Mexican restaurant down the road, and the Spaceland music bar a mile away. And to have Griffith Park mere seconds away, equipped with tennis courts, a merry-go-round, a golf course and even a little roller coaster is really more than a girl can ask for! The vibe reminds me of the oh-so-great Austin, where I grew up, and I can definitely see myself staying in my awesome, spacious, rent controlled apartment for a long, long time.
So, let's get down to it. As you've probably already heard, there's a strike going on. The Writer's Guild of America (WGA) began to strike on November 5, 2007 and who knows how long it'll last. Many say that it could last months which would then lead to a SAG strike in the Spring. Yep. Not surprisingly, the first thing many people say to me, a spanking new Los Angeleno actor, is: "What a terrible time to move to the city."
Well, that's one way to look at it. But I choose to look at it differently. I see this time as an opportunity. An opportunity to get acclimated to the city before I start driving to several auditions a day. An opportunity to find a great scene study class where I can keep my skills honed and meet fellow actors. An opportunity to support my fellow artists that are standing on the pickets lines, peaceably fighting for better, fairer wages. Because that's really the long and short of it (or maybe just the short of it.)
The WGA is just fighting for their piece of the "new media" pie. They're standing up for themselves, their families, and every writer,actor, and artist that will come after them, and I applaud and support their efforts wholeheartedly. It takes a lot of guts to have courage in your convictions. Some of the showrunners (people that double as writers and producers) are even being threatened with lawsuits unless they get back to work, but they're standing next to their brethren fighting the good fight. For the sake of all parties involved, I'm hoping that the writers and producers can come to an equitable agreement in the very near future.
That said, so what if I won't be going out much, if at all, this pilot season. I'm here for the marathon, not the sprint, and I know that this is just part of the journey.
So I'd like to dedicate this blog entry to the WGA members on strike. Keep the faith!! I'm rooting for you!
So I'd planned to continue to go back in time and write about my past experiences as an actor in NYC but I'm taking a detour today. A detour to the present day, that is. You see, I just moved to Los Angeles last week and I've been settling into my new home in the Los Feliz/Silverlake area. I love, love, love the neighborhood -- The Trader Joe's on the corner, La Parilla Mexican restaurant down the road, and the Spaceland music bar a mile away. And to have Griffith Park mere seconds away, equipped with tennis courts, a merry-go-round, a golf course and even a little roller coaster is really more than a girl can ask for! The vibe reminds me of the oh-so-great Austin, where I grew up, and I can definitely see myself staying in my awesome, spacious, rent controlled apartment for a long, long time.
So, let's get down to it. As you've probably already heard, there's a strike going on. The Writer's Guild of America (WGA) began to strike on November 5, 2007 and who knows how long it'll last. Many say that it could last months which would then lead to a SAG strike in the Spring. Yep. Not surprisingly, the first thing many people say to me, a spanking new Los Angeleno actor, is: "What a terrible time to move to the city."
Well, that's one way to look at it. But I choose to look at it differently. I see this time as an opportunity. An opportunity to get acclimated to the city before I start driving to several auditions a day. An opportunity to find a great scene study class where I can keep my skills honed and meet fellow actors. An opportunity to support my fellow artists that are standing on the pickets lines, peaceably fighting for better, fairer wages. Because that's really the long and short of it (or maybe just the short of it.)
The WGA is just fighting for their piece of the "new media" pie. They're standing up for themselves, their families, and every writer,actor, and artist that will come after them, and I applaud and support their efforts wholeheartedly. It takes a lot of guts to have courage in your convictions. Some of the showrunners (people that double as writers and producers) are even being threatened with lawsuits unless they get back to work, but they're standing next to their brethren fighting the good fight. For the sake of all parties involved, I'm hoping that the writers and producers can come to an equitable agreement in the very near future.
That said, so what if I won't be going out much, if at all, this pilot season. I'm here for the marathon, not the sprint, and I know that this is just part of the journey.
So I'd like to dedicate this blog entry to the WGA members on strike. Keep the faith!! I'm rooting for you!
I'm a Little Superstitious: PART DEUX
Time: August 25, 2007
So about that superstitiousness... I just got cast in a feature that will remain nameless. It will remain nameless because I've learned that nothing in this business is ever certain. Just because you're cast in film doesn't mean the film will ever be made. Just because you film a role in a movie, it doesn't mean you won't end up on the cutting room floor. Just because you're told a movie/commercial/TV show will air on a certain date, doesn't mean it will, even if you've told all your family members, friends and family members' friends to tune in at such and such time. You just never know.
On the flip side, movies you thought would never see the light of day might be seen by millions. Commercials you thought would air for a season might air for years. A role that starts out small might be expanded. There are so many factors out of our control that it would be crazy to try to forsee the future. So, I figure, the only thing I can do is bring my most positive, professional, prepared, generous self to each project and after it's completed, move on and let the chips fall where they may.
To be honest, I'm really excited about this "Film That Shall Not Be Named." I love the story, I love my role and I very much hope that we'll start filming in October or November as planned. All I can do, however, is keep moving forward, keep planning the move to L.A. and keep opening myself up to other opportunities. Because, you just never know.
So about that superstitiousness... I just got cast in a feature that will remain nameless. It will remain nameless because I've learned that nothing in this business is ever certain. Just because you're cast in film doesn't mean the film will ever be made. Just because you film a role in a movie, it doesn't mean you won't end up on the cutting room floor. Just because you're told a movie/commercial/TV show will air on a certain date, doesn't mean it will, even if you've told all your family members, friends and family members' friends to tune in at such and such time. You just never know.
On the flip side, movies you thought would never see the light of day might be seen by millions. Commercials you thought would air for a season might air for years. A role that starts out small might be expanded. There are so many factors out of our control that it would be crazy to try to forsee the future. So, I figure, the only thing I can do is bring my most positive, professional, prepared, generous self to each project and after it's completed, move on and let the chips fall where they may.
To be honest, I'm really excited about this "Film That Shall Not Be Named." I love the story, I love my role and I very much hope that we'll start filming in October or November as planned. All I can do, however, is keep moving forward, keep planning the move to L.A. and keep opening myself up to other opportunities. Because, you just never know.
I'm a Little Superstitious: PART UN
Time: August 2007
I was just cast in a SAG feature film today. It's a great role really, and it's strange, how it all came about. You see, I'm moving to Los Angeles in a mere 9 weeks, so since finishing Esper and wrapping "Bronx Paradise" in June, I've been focusing my energies on making some cold hard cash. I'm going to need a lot of it to:
A. Move all my stuff from one end of the country to the other
B. Pay for my comfy pad (Ist month's rent/deposit/etc.) in a great neighborhood, preferably Silverlake or Los Feliz
C. Invest in some new marketing materials (i.e. headshots, postcards, business cards, etc.)
D. Finance the wheels that will get me, safely, from one destination to another in said city
E. Pay for an acting class and/or private coach soon after getting settled
F. Eat three square meals a day
That said, when an audition comes along, I gladly take it. And this summer, a couple of nice auditions have definitely come along. It's all been very Zen in the Art of Archery-like. When you're not focused on something, consciously... it happens. You know, like when you're trying to remember the last name of the guy you went to homecoming with, and try as you might, you just can't seem to think of it, even after using the "Alphabet Method" where you slowly go through every letter of the alphabet hoping it will jog your memory.
But only when you're chillin' out, completely absorbed in the new "Pushing Daisies," episode guest starring Paul Reubens in the role of a sewer dwelling smell-o-maniac, does it comes to you, like a bee to honey, causing you to exclaim, victoriously, "Blackshear!!!"... which of course causes the person with whom you are watching the said show to look at you with momentary surprise, only to return their attention back to the more entertaining story unfolding on the TV.
But I digress.
The first, most memorable audition, comes when I'm called in to read for Bob Lambert, a casting director for "All My Children." I get a call from him on Tuesday, which is followed up by an email with a four page scene attached that I will then use for my audition the following day. Pretty fast turnaround. But hey, I figured, this IS a soap opera audition and soap actors are expected to be able to memorize dozens of pages per episode. So in comparison, this is a piece of cake, so of course I'll be off-book by manana por la manana. (Tommorow morning, sans the squiggly things over the "N"s)
So, I walk to the ABC building on 66th Street near the Westside Highway, and I'm feeling pretty good. I feel confident in my preparation, rested, and relaxed. I'm not obsessing about the outcome, I'm just thinking "Hey, it's pretty cool I got called in from a self-submission. Let me go in there and do my thing, and just have fun with it."
I don't spend much time thinking about what it would be like if I got the role, but rather, I choose to focus on the present moment. So instead of feeling anxious and fearful, I just feel calm and energized. I listen to the what Bob has to say about my character, and adjust my choices based on the new information I've been given. Bob's a great partner, so it's easy to work off what he's giving me, while staying grounded in my character.
The audition was a ball, in and of itself. I'd come and done what I'd set out to do, which was to have fun, while being open, truthful and present. Fortunately, as it turns out, that positive audition experience led to my 7 episode stint as Nurse Margie on "All My Children." Over my seven summer days on the AMC set, I was fortunate enough to work with Cameron Mathison, Alicia Minishew (an Esper grad, I discovered) and Susan Lucci. Actually it was my first foray into American TV, and it's been real. And, I'd like to thank Bob for giving me the opportunity and the cast for helping make my experience a positive and memorable one. Thank you.
Next stop: prime time.
I was just cast in a SAG feature film today. It's a great role really, and it's strange, how it all came about. You see, I'm moving to Los Angeles in a mere 9 weeks, so since finishing Esper and wrapping "Bronx Paradise" in June, I've been focusing my energies on making some cold hard cash. I'm going to need a lot of it to:
A. Move all my stuff from one end of the country to the other
B. Pay for my comfy pad (Ist month's rent/deposit/etc.) in a great neighborhood, preferably Silverlake or Los Feliz
C. Invest in some new marketing materials (i.e. headshots, postcards, business cards, etc.)
D. Finance the wheels that will get me, safely, from one destination to another in said city
E. Pay for an acting class and/or private coach soon after getting settled
F. Eat three square meals a day
That said, when an audition comes along, I gladly take it. And this summer, a couple of nice auditions have definitely come along. It's all been very Zen in the Art of Archery-like. When you're not focused on something, consciously... it happens. You know, like when you're trying to remember the last name of the guy you went to homecoming with, and try as you might, you just can't seem to think of it, even after using the "Alphabet Method" where you slowly go through every letter of the alphabet hoping it will jog your memory.
But only when you're chillin' out, completely absorbed in the new "Pushing Daisies," episode guest starring Paul Reubens in the role of a sewer dwelling smell-o-maniac, does it comes to you, like a bee to honey, causing you to exclaim, victoriously, "Blackshear!!!"... which of course causes the person with whom you are watching the said show to look at you with momentary surprise, only to return their attention back to the more entertaining story unfolding on the TV.
But I digress.
The first, most memorable audition, comes when I'm called in to read for Bob Lambert, a casting director for "All My Children." I get a call from him on Tuesday, which is followed up by an email with a four page scene attached that I will then use for my audition the following day. Pretty fast turnaround. But hey, I figured, this IS a soap opera audition and soap actors are expected to be able to memorize dozens of pages per episode. So in comparison, this is a piece of cake, so of course I'll be off-book by manana por la manana. (Tommorow morning, sans the squiggly things over the "N"s)
So, I walk to the ABC building on 66th Street near the Westside Highway, and I'm feeling pretty good. I feel confident in my preparation, rested, and relaxed. I'm not obsessing about the outcome, I'm just thinking "Hey, it's pretty cool I got called in from a self-submission. Let me go in there and do my thing, and just have fun with it."
I don't spend much time thinking about what it would be like if I got the role, but rather, I choose to focus on the present moment. So instead of feeling anxious and fearful, I just feel calm and energized. I listen to the what Bob has to say about my character, and adjust my choices based on the new information I've been given. Bob's a great partner, so it's easy to work off what he's giving me, while staying grounded in my character.
The audition was a ball, in and of itself. I'd come and done what I'd set out to do, which was to have fun, while being open, truthful and present. Fortunately, as it turns out, that positive audition experience led to my 7 episode stint as Nurse Margie on "All My Children." Over my seven summer days on the AMC set, I was fortunate enough to work with Cameron Mathison, Alicia Minishew (an Esper grad, I discovered) and Susan Lucci. Actually it was my first foray into American TV, and it's been real. And, I'd like to thank Bob for giving me the opportunity and the cast for helping make my experience a positive and memorable one. Thank you.
Next stop: prime time.
It's funny how things work out sometimes...
Time: July 2007
So, remember when I told you about "The Interview." That one-woman show I wrote and entered into the NY International Fringe Festival, also known as the Fringe Fest? I didn't get in.
Actually I got waitlisted and after the wait was over, they sent me a lovely letter stuffed with a list of Fringe Fest plays and ten free tickets to the shows of my choice. I thought that was pretty cool, a classy gesture. And hey, I figured, the free tickets more than pay for my registration fee.
I was pretty bummed that I didn't get in, because I'd really envisioned myself up on a stage, performing the monologues. I could see it, as if my 'World Premiere' at the NY International Fringe Fest' had already happened. But, as it turns out, this particular festival wasn't going to happen, so I moved on.
Anyways, I'm going on about my business, enjoying New York City in the summer. You just can't beat New York on a breezy summer day. There's an energy in the streets that can't be matched and unlike in other, milder climates, New Yorkers don't take a beautiful day for granted. We eat lunch outside, we walk rather than taking the subway, we splurge on a five dollar black and white shake from Shake Shack because we're so freaking happy that the weather's so nice that we feel the need to celebrate.
So, I'm enjoying one of those days when I get a phone call. It's Robert Galinsky and he's asking if I'd like to perform in the next month's Manhattan Monologue Slam.
I hesitate for a moment because it's always kind of scary to put yourself out there. Ultimately, however, my love to perform won over my fear of failure.
'Sure!," I chirp, like the birds around me.
The MM Slam, organized by Robert and Philip Galinsky and produced by one of "Spring Awakening's" producers, always draws a crowd. It was even voted 'Best Open Mic Night in NYC' by Backstage Magazine even though it's not really an Open Mic Night.
Anyhoo, on the first Monday of every month, people crowd into the Bowery Poetry Club in Manhattan's Lower East Side, prepared to be entertained.
The show is composed of two sets. The first set stars eight actors, each performing a three minute monologue of their choice. Some of the material is original, some not, some comedy, others drama. It's a a great way for we as actors, to get on stage and perform in front of a live audience. And for me, it held an even greater significance. It would be the World Premiere of one of my monologues from "The Interview." I would be performing my material on stage for the first time, and to make it even scarier, a industry panel would be judging me.
Eek.
I can't say I wasn't nervous. I can't say I wasn't thinking -- "What if they hate my writing? What if they hate my acting." Because I was. But I knew I that I had to put myself out there regardless of the results. Before I went out on stage, I prayed the prayer I always pray before auditioning or performing. "Please God, help me be free and open, and help me honor the truth of the moment and of the character." And with that, I walked out as Candice, "The Beauty Queen" and began my monologue.
It was so liberating to write and perform my own work. Even before I got the comments and scores from the judges, I felt like a success. I had overcome fear, rejection and self-doubt to get to that stage, and I knew that with each of these little victories, I was becoming stronger and more resilient. And, as it turns out, the judges and the audience enjoyed the monologue. It felt great to hear that the piece spoke to different people in different ways based upon their varied experiences. I'd created something that would hopefully have a life of its own, and now I feel motivated to create more.
'The Interview' will be performed someday, in its entirety. I don't know when, I don't know where, but when I find out, you'll be the first to know.
And,now that you know the story, I'd thought I'd share with you the video from that night's performance.
Take care!
So, remember when I told you about "The Interview." That one-woman show I wrote and entered into the NY International Fringe Festival, also known as the Fringe Fest? I didn't get in.
Actually I got waitlisted and after the wait was over, they sent me a lovely letter stuffed with a list of Fringe Fest plays and ten free tickets to the shows of my choice. I thought that was pretty cool, a classy gesture. And hey, I figured, the free tickets more than pay for my registration fee.
I was pretty bummed that I didn't get in, because I'd really envisioned myself up on a stage, performing the monologues. I could see it, as if my 'World Premiere' at the NY International Fringe Fest' had already happened. But, as it turns out, this particular festival wasn't going to happen, so I moved on.
Anyways, I'm going on about my business, enjoying New York City in the summer. You just can't beat New York on a breezy summer day. There's an energy in the streets that can't be matched and unlike in other, milder climates, New Yorkers don't take a beautiful day for granted. We eat lunch outside, we walk rather than taking the subway, we splurge on a five dollar black and white shake from Shake Shack because we're so freaking happy that the weather's so nice that we feel the need to celebrate.
So, I'm enjoying one of those days when I get a phone call. It's Robert Galinsky and he's asking if I'd like to perform in the next month's Manhattan Monologue Slam.
I hesitate for a moment because it's always kind of scary to put yourself out there. Ultimately, however, my love to perform won over my fear of failure.
'Sure!," I chirp, like the birds around me.
The MM Slam, organized by Robert and Philip Galinsky and produced by one of "Spring Awakening's" producers, always draws a crowd. It was even voted 'Best Open Mic Night in NYC' by Backstage Magazine even though it's not really an Open Mic Night.
Anyhoo, on the first Monday of every month, people crowd into the Bowery Poetry Club in Manhattan's Lower East Side, prepared to be entertained.
The show is composed of two sets. The first set stars eight actors, each performing a three minute monologue of their choice. Some of the material is original, some not, some comedy, others drama. It's a a great way for we as actors, to get on stage and perform in front of a live audience. And for me, it held an even greater significance. It would be the World Premiere of one of my monologues from "The Interview." I would be performing my material on stage for the first time, and to make it even scarier, a industry panel would be judging me.
Eek.
I can't say I wasn't nervous. I can't say I wasn't thinking -- "What if they hate my writing? What if they hate my acting." Because I was. But I knew I that I had to put myself out there regardless of the results. Before I went out on stage, I prayed the prayer I always pray before auditioning or performing. "Please God, help me be free and open, and help me honor the truth of the moment and of the character." And with that, I walked out as Candice, "The Beauty Queen" and began my monologue.
It was so liberating to write and perform my own work. Even before I got the comments and scores from the judges, I felt like a success. I had overcome fear, rejection and self-doubt to get to that stage, and I knew that with each of these little victories, I was becoming stronger and more resilient. And, as it turns out, the judges and the audience enjoyed the monologue. It felt great to hear that the piece spoke to different people in different ways based upon their varied experiences. I'd created something that would hopefully have a life of its own, and now I feel motivated to create more.
'The Interview' will be performed someday, in its entirety. I don't know when, I don't know where, but when I find out, you'll be the first to know.
And,now that you know the story, I'd thought I'd share with you the video from that night's performance.
Take care!
I Resolve to...
Time: January 1, 2007
It's that time of the year again. Time to assess the highs and lows of the past year and make plans for the new one. I love new beginnings. I always have. A new school year, a new week, a new day, a new class. The blank page is so exciting, my imagination and dreams cover it with words and images.
It's the New Year and I've got a feeling this year's going to great. Hanging out with my family in Austin, Galveston and Temple has been a blast. Mom's home cooking, I sure have missed you. I feel safe and secure, and buoyed by the fact that I've created something that I'm proud of. A few weeks ago, I penned "The Interview", a series of nine monologues in which nine New Yorkers are asked the common questions of an interview process. Their answers, however, are anything but common. Each respond, in truth, their truth. Initially, I'd envisioned each monologue being performed by different people. Five women, four men of various ethnicities, backgrounds and experiences. But as I perform it for my family, in the comfort of warm living rooms and supportive eyes, I begin to open myself up to other possibilities. That said, when my dad suggests that I perform all the monologues together, as a one-woman show, I don't balk at the idea. I embrace it, tentatively at first, then more confidently. "Yes!" I say to the proposition. Why not?
I've always enjoyed writing but I've never considered myself a writer. I've always been the type to write when I HAD to. When my emotions are struggling to burst free and the only way I can express myself is to take pen to paper. But unlike acting, where the playwright/screenwriter decides your parameters, writing gives me freedom to set my own. To scream on paper, to whisper, to rant. I'm an actor, yes. But I've discovered that I don't have to be one thing, I can be many. An artist, an actor, an actress, a writer, a poet, and God knows what else... Why limit yourself by staying confined to your self-made playpen when there's more out there for you than you can ever imagine.
Writing "The Interview" was a liberating experience in many ways. Now that I've learned what type of actor I am, I also know what kind of material speaks to me. Complex, raw, human, truthful writing where the soul is exposed even if you try to hide behind a mask. I wrote and will continue to write material I want to perform, and I've decided to enter the series into The NY International Fringe Festival. The deadline's February 15th, 2007. I've already downloaded and printed out my application, copywrighted my piece with the Library of Congress and started on revisions. Who knows what this year has in store for me, but one things for sure, I'm going take risks and "go forth confidently towards my dreams."
It's that time of the year again. Time to assess the highs and lows of the past year and make plans for the new one. I love new beginnings. I always have. A new school year, a new week, a new day, a new class. The blank page is so exciting, my imagination and dreams cover it with words and images.
It's the New Year and I've got a feeling this year's going to great. Hanging out with my family in Austin, Galveston and Temple has been a blast. Mom's home cooking, I sure have missed you. I feel safe and secure, and buoyed by the fact that I've created something that I'm proud of. A few weeks ago, I penned "The Interview", a series of nine monologues in which nine New Yorkers are asked the common questions of an interview process. Their answers, however, are anything but common. Each respond, in truth, their truth. Initially, I'd envisioned each monologue being performed by different people. Five women, four men of various ethnicities, backgrounds and experiences. But as I perform it for my family, in the comfort of warm living rooms and supportive eyes, I begin to open myself up to other possibilities. That said, when my dad suggests that I perform all the monologues together, as a one-woman show, I don't balk at the idea. I embrace it, tentatively at first, then more confidently. "Yes!" I say to the proposition. Why not?
I've always enjoyed writing but I've never considered myself a writer. I've always been the type to write when I HAD to. When my emotions are struggling to burst free and the only way I can express myself is to take pen to paper. But unlike acting, where the playwright/screenwriter decides your parameters, writing gives me freedom to set my own. To scream on paper, to whisper, to rant. I'm an actor, yes. But I've discovered that I don't have to be one thing, I can be many. An artist, an actor, an actress, a writer, a poet, and God knows what else... Why limit yourself by staying confined to your self-made playpen when there's more out there for you than you can ever imagine.
Writing "The Interview" was a liberating experience in many ways. Now that I've learned what type of actor I am, I also know what kind of material speaks to me. Complex, raw, human, truthful writing where the soul is exposed even if you try to hide behind a mask. I wrote and will continue to write material I want to perform, and I've decided to enter the series into The NY International Fringe Festival. The deadline's February 15th, 2007. I've already downloaded and printed out my application, copywrighted my piece with the Library of Congress and started on revisions. Who knows what this year has in store for me, but one things for sure, I'm going take risks and "go forth confidently towards my dreams."
The Exorcism
Time: December 2006
So I've been living with this woman named Vera for the past month and a half. She's really amazing and all and I'm really happy to have gotten to know her so well, but, well, the truth is, I'm ready for her to move out. I just want my "me" time again, and this apartment is way too small for the both of us.
You see, she just saw her first love Floyd for the first time in two years after he'd left her for a woman my Mom would describe as "fast." She's all bent outta shape over seeing him again, and although she's tried to cover her feelings and act all thick-skined and stuff, it's obvious that that man wripped her heart right in two. It's hard living with her, though, because, honestly, her drama is stirring up all sorts of old feelings in me. Feelings about the past that I thought I'd left behind, that I guess just lay sleeping in a place deep, deep inside me. But living with Vera has made the past come to the present, anxious to get out and be dealt with once and for all.
As part of my second year Meisner class, I was cast as "Vera" in a scene from the play Seven Guitars by August Wilson. I feel so blessed to have been introduced to this character and I've done my best to honor her and Mr. Wilson by breathing my breath into her and inhabiting the role as best as I know how. But, I'm not going to lie. It's been hard. My heart breaks every time I read the scene, every time I rehearse with my partner Jerry "Floyd" Baxtron Jr., every time I perform. It hurts like heartbreak hurts and I'm been carrying around Vera's sadness and my own for the past six weeks, so much so that it's hard to distinguish the two. So, Vera, we've performed together for the last time, and now it's time to let you go. It's been real. I'll always remember you, I'll always carry a piece of you with me, 'cause you reawakened in me that which I didn't know dwelt deep inside. But now it's time to go. One last cry, one last wail, one last time, so I can just be...
(Deep sigh...) I lay my head on the pillow, I close my eyes. Not to sleep, just to be. And in the stillness, it comes to me. An idea, like a butterfly on the tip of my nose that will fly away unless I cup it in my hands. I cup it in my hands. I take pen to paper and I write. One monologue. Two. Three. Nine. "The Interview" I call it. Nine people. Nine truths. Pen down. Head down. Sleep comes.
So I've been living with this woman named Vera for the past month and a half. She's really amazing and all and I'm really happy to have gotten to know her so well, but, well, the truth is, I'm ready for her to move out. I just want my "me" time again, and this apartment is way too small for the both of us.
You see, she just saw her first love Floyd for the first time in two years after he'd left her for a woman my Mom would describe as "fast." She's all bent outta shape over seeing him again, and although she's tried to cover her feelings and act all thick-skined and stuff, it's obvious that that man wripped her heart right in two. It's hard living with her, though, because, honestly, her drama is stirring up all sorts of old feelings in me. Feelings about the past that I thought I'd left behind, that I guess just lay sleeping in a place deep, deep inside me. But living with Vera has made the past come to the present, anxious to get out and be dealt with once and for all.
As part of my second year Meisner class, I was cast as "Vera" in a scene from the play Seven Guitars by August Wilson. I feel so blessed to have been introduced to this character and I've done my best to honor her and Mr. Wilson by breathing my breath into her and inhabiting the role as best as I know how. But, I'm not going to lie. It's been hard. My heart breaks every time I read the scene, every time I rehearse with my partner Jerry "Floyd" Baxtron Jr., every time I perform. It hurts like heartbreak hurts and I'm been carrying around Vera's sadness and my own for the past six weeks, so much so that it's hard to distinguish the two. So, Vera, we've performed together for the last time, and now it's time to let you go. It's been real. I'll always remember you, I'll always carry a piece of you with me, 'cause you reawakened in me that which I didn't know dwelt deep inside. But now it's time to go. One last cry, one last wail, one last time, so I can just be...
(Deep sigh...) I lay my head on the pillow, I close my eyes. Not to sleep, just to be. And in the stillness, it comes to me. An idea, like a butterfly on the tip of my nose that will fly away unless I cup it in my hands. I cup it in my hands. I take pen to paper and I write. One monologue. Two. Three. Nine. "The Interview" I call it. Nine people. Nine truths. Pen down. Head down. Sleep comes.
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