Rachel Bailit created a wildly popular column “Diary of an Actress” for The Los Angeles Independent Newspaper. Here for the first time since their original publication, is an opportunity to read, relish and enjoy the diaries!
Share in Rachel’s latest revelations, aspirations and exciting adventures of her life as an Actress in her NEW weekly diaries!
“I have forced myself to begin writing when I’ve been utterly exhausted, when I’ve felt my soul as thin as a playing card…and somehow the activity of writing changes everything”–Joyce Carol Oates
Let’s hope you ‘re right Joyce. With a jolting screech of the brakes, my life has halted into a mind numbing hiatus. A software update is taking place in my cerebral cortex. A deletion of old cookies and installation of the newest upgrades and installments with which I will now operate. All systems say go. This is your new life. I am waiting for a “sign”. An impulse. Which way to go next?
I am in what I call the “in-between”. No scheduled shows. Breathing time. Living time. I feel incredibly lazy. My mind wanders between books, sprawling through the fall fashion magazine spreads, and watching romantic and historical movies. If I can’t afford to go on vacation, I will bring vacation to me. And so what if I labor on Labor Day weekend? As long as my mind is calm, I could be anywhere. No one bothers to think about the mental health of a struggling Actress. How are we to get any relaxation if we can’t take a vacation? It must be self-imposed. Batteries must be recharged. We must physically stop and make a conscious space to rejuvenate ourselves. And we must not allow guilt to permeate this sacred vortex.
The life of an Actress. Je ne sais quoi. It’s a lot to bear. Even for the most stable and strong. There is no guidebook. It’s quite simple, survive or get out of the business. No need to make a fuss of it. But we are dramatic beings so of course and our off-stage lives needs some “juicing-up”. A French director once told me that I am always performing, even in conversation. Not to say that he thought I was insincere, but just a bit “heightened” in expression.
But such is the price we pay for those of us who have been struck by Athena’s spear. We bare a passion for art. For expression. And sometimes it cannot be shared. I recently watched the Oscar winning movie “Amadeus”. The character of Antonio Salieri bemoans his fate as a composer who can never reach the heights of his contemporary, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart:
“All I ever wanted was to sing to God. He gave me that longing. And then made me mute. Why? Tell me that. If he didn’t want me to praise him with music, why implant the desire like a lust in my body…”
And harmonious to this point, is the life of the grand operatic Diva Maria Callas. I’ve spent the summer devouring the book” The Young Maria Callas”, edited by her close friend, Bruno Tosi. The book is filled with personal recollections from people who knew the singer intimately.
Here is a woman, who according to her mother, began singing in her crib. Fresh out of the womb, the woman was destined to become one of the renowned opera singers in the world. She was a perfectionist and her unyielding commitment merited her enormous success. And yet she was inwardly tortured most of her life. Plagued by harsh critics, hurting her voice prematurely in order to force her body into a petite submission. She often said that ‘Her voice played tricks on her”. But no one can refute that this woman lived her life with fortissimo!
And like Salieri, she respected art like a religion:
“If you serve art well, everything will come automatically: you will be great, you will have money, there will be fame. But the work is hard, in the beginning, during and afterwards. But it is a privilege. I consider myself privileged because I have been able to bring truth from the soul and mind, give it to the public, and have it accepted, not everyone can do that. It is one of the greatest powers one can put at the service of one of the greatest arts: music.”
These words are of great comfort to me. I, too, feel the sacredness when creating a role. But like Callas says, it lies in the intention with which we approach it. It must be absolute.
You wouldn’t expect anything too deep from a TV show about a male prostitute who is “HUNG” but that’s exactly where I stumbled upon this sentiment that hit oh so close to home. The character on this HBO hit asks the question:
“When did life become something you buy?”
I second that. And it begs an answer. Does an empty wallet equate to an empty life? Life offers a huge array of hors d’oeuvres to sample but if you can’t afford the toothpick, you aren’t getting any crudités from the tray. Now I’m not speaking about life’s beautiful and simple pleasures (because they are countless) such as watching sunsets, walks on the beach, swimming in a lake. I’m talking about traveling to new places, sampling new cuisines, stylish haircuts, vacations, new clothing, theater, clubs, and concerts. And more mundane but dire…health insurance, dental fillings, Dermatologist skin checks, …We must even buy our health. That is, if we want to preserve it. But the majority of us can’t. Or at least without great struggle. I know plenty of artists without Insurance who skip important routine exams. There are incredible organizations such as The Actor’s Fund and The SAG Foundation that can help. But the question still remains “When did life become something you buy?”
I grew-up upper middle class. Had I not become an Actress, I may not have ever struggled, professionally and financially. But seeing the silver lining in the cloud (as I usually do) I am grateful to have walked through life on many different roads. I’ve worked in restaurants and appreciate what a good tip means to a waitress who has been on her feet for eight hours in between cleaning ketchup bottles. I have worked in retail stores and know the desperation of selling that extra shirt so I can make a much-needed fifty-dollar bonus. The people ” behind the counter” are my fellow soul journeyers. Whether I gain fame or money or not, I know the price of being able to enjoy life. I have experienced strenuous if not tedious work. I have the understanding of what juggling four jobs means. I’m not afraid of doing what I must.
What price are we willing to pay to be an artist? Must we all be Van Goghs and be appreciated after we die? Kandinsky ran out of paper to paint on in the final years of his life. There is still no gravesite for Mozart because even with all that immense talent, he was in such debt that he was buried in a mass pit.
And how “Unbourgeous” to speak of such things. But the greatest artists cannot afford to be too lofty in mind and spirit.
We are storytellers. The more diverse and uneven our lives are lived, the more we can slip in and out of roles with a true understanding of the characters we portray. So embrace your misfortunes while appreciating and striving for easier and more lucrative times.
“Life beats down and crushes the soul and art reminds you that you have one. ” ~Stella Adler
Cling to art. Stay true to your calling. You are part of a noble lineage and profession.
Like you really have a choice anyhow. Ha. Sing me another aria, I’ve already heard that one. We artists are bound to our destinies. Just ask La Divina Callas.
Inevitably everything that begins must end. It’s the law of nature.
There’s something so special about the closing night of a play. The rush of people trying to secure last minute tickets, the deliberate setting of the props for the last time, the flowers, the speeches, the champagne, the heightened last moments on this particular stage in the this precise moment of time. An experience that becomes a memory overnight.
I feel of huge sense of accomplishment. Actually shock. I was able to self-produce my own play for nine weeks! And I didn’t go into debt. No hocking my Great Aunt’s Silver. No leaving town on a secret midnight flight. I can walk tall and proud! Of course I’m no richer on the outside, but inwardly I’m living on Boardwalk on my own monopoly set.
I’m no longer playing the waiting game. My escalator is going up. Catch me if you can. In this new ascent I need to keep asking myself, “What’s next”?
Finally, a charity has accepted my offer to do a benefit performance! I’m so excited! “Project Save Our Surf” will be the recipient of my next Sugarlicious show! How apropos! Most of my time in Los Angeles has been spent living by the sea. The proximity has sustained me, empowered me and kept me grounded.
If ever there was a problem that need to be solved or an anxiety that need to be quelled, it was resolved by taking a walk out to the Pacific Ocean. Call it purification. A complete retreat. An oceanic surrender to something greater then myself…So naturally I would like to save our surf. And preserve the memories of my time in it.
Only this past week I journeyed down the beach to shoot pictures. The water was so inviting that I succumbed easily, red dress and all. Art can be created anywhere at anytime. It only takes imagination. How I loved dancing to the sound of the surf. Salt in my hair. Seagulls accompanying me above. I was impervious of any limitations in that moment. The sea and I were doing a waltz. It pleaded with me not to leave. And I promised it would always have a part of me. For we are made-up of water. So the sea and I are one.
People ask me how I can get up on stage and act for an hour alone. One friend said she would “rather be shot in the eye”. Ouch. If only she knew the joy and freedom it gives me, and others. I am not alone. I am a co-star with my audience night after night. They are my ying to my yang, my peanut butter to my jelly, the case to my pillow. The important link to the experience. It’s more then a play. It’s a connection made between people in a disjointed world. Not just my play. Any form of art. Art reaches out and invites us in. It shows us that life can be lived in many ways. That nothing is linear, right or wrong, and that we humans can reach heights far greater then we ever imagined…if we try.
So try. Try harder. And then if that’s not enough, try again. You can do it. Think outside of the box. What aren’t we seeing? Get quiet. Listen. Observe. The answers are waiting. If life is an illusion, then this is quite a movie set. Stop to consider that we may be missing what’s right in front of us. The thing we long for most, we may already have. It’s just in a different costume then we thought. And the props are in different places. And the lighting gels are in a different hue. But the means are to the same end. We can resist, call our agent and say, “I don’t want to be in this movie”. But if you’re already cast, why not make the most of it and learn to play the character that’s been given to you in the way you are supposed to play it? You might actually enjoy it.
My retail job calls. How “unglam” after a big closing night. That’s reality kid.
Tomorrow I’ll go to the beach and swim to my own tide.
Hello Diary. In a whirlwind here. Hardly time to think, no less write. Two more shows left to my sweet run at the Sidewalk Studio Theatre in Burbank. It’s been a meaningful ride. I’ve adored my audiences, the creative process and our stellar reviews. The pleasure of performing for nine weeks! What could be better then doing it “my way” and on my terms? Acting my heart out every show…and the feeling that I have more to offer. An endless well of giving.
So the big question inquiring minds (including mine) want to know is, what’s next? Well, as good fortune would have it, an old friend and film director, has offered me the use of his Westside Theatre for an evening in August. More to come.
After that, I’m off to NYC with my eyes set on Broadway. Forget Pirandello, I’m “Six personalities in search of a Theatre”! (I’ve added my ego and alter ego to the existing four characters in my show). It does seem that the Big Apple is my destiny. “Miraculously” an Upper East Side apartment has become available for my use. Fortuitous? Yes, most definitely. Hollywood Shmollywood.
But my ties run deep here. Deeper then I think. But if the world is my oyster, why stay stuck in a clam? Opportunities await and are for the taking. I was profoundly moved watching Tom Ford’s movie, “A Single Man”. I related to the scene where Colin Firth and Julianne Moore are make a mute point about wanting to change their lives, while knowingly stuck in the past.
She says: “None of it worked out the way I really planned.”
He says: ” Most things don’t work out the way you planned. You’re just living in the past. You need to worry about your future.”
Boom. A harsh as it feels, we must move forward even though our “plans” didn’t workout. We can kick and scream but we can’t change it.
Her character says, “Going home is a defeat”.
I ask, is it? Take stock. What have we achieved even though it didn’t look picture perfect? And why should we have expected it to go exactly the way we wanted it to? Life can’t be tamed. It has a mind of it’s own too. And it’s usually right. Oh those Rolling Stones said it best, “You can’t always get what you want. But if you try sometime, you just might find, you get what you need.”
Ah, what I need. That sounds comforting. Like getting in a warm fuzzy pair of Uggs on a winter day. I must admit, I don’t know exactly what that is. But I do know that the least path of resistance might be helpful at this point. Right now I’m a bull in a china shop pushing my way through glass. The shards are embedded in me engraving the word “Hollywood” across my chest.
I gave my heart to Hollywood. He was a tough lover. Receiving me and rejecting me over and over. But I loved him like no other. When he loved me I shined! I felt as though I could conquer the world. And when he forgot me, he forced me to go out on my own and become my own person. Which felt even better. I thank him for that. I came across the country to find that it was myself I was looking for, in his arms.
When I was a child we used to vacation on Martha’s Vineyard. Our house was on Stone Wall Beach. And true to its name, the sand was covered with considerably large stones. The ocean spit them out in all sorts of odd shapes that we would take delight in painting for hours on end. At the beginning of the summer, the rocks hurt our tender urban feet. We walked precariously for days while our small feet calloused and grew tough. By the end of our vacation, we ran over the rocks with glee. What originally slowed us down had strengthened us and now propelled us forward with great ease.
Oh how I miss those carefree days and those beautiful stones. I brought some to Hollywood with me. I think I’ll leave a few behind when I go in case I need a trail to find my way back.
In case my lover beckons me…
Show day! I have enough energy to fly to the moon! And back. In time for curtain, of course! I feel this incredible energy building…like a volcano is about to erupt. I know something good is happening. The key is to stay the course. With two scheduled shows left, it would be anti-climatic to not extend my run. I have so much gusto left and there are Industry people wanting to come! So I’ll take a week’s breather, regroup and hopefully do a handful of more shows in July! It is my sole purpose to see this one through.
I figure there MUST be a reason for this passion. It’s like I’m on this huge scavenger hunt. Chasing the clues. Hotter..Hotter, no colder…no hot. Very hot. I strongly believe that these “feelings” of passion or direction are instilled in us at birth. Little time bombs that go off in order to help us stay on track and fulfill our individual destinies. If I had an urgency to paint, design a building, travel to Alaska..whatever…then that would be my track. But it’s not. So I’ll dig my heels in and stay in the Valley, at my little Theatre, until the Tornado is over. It’s almost like I am taking a mini refuge like Dorothy did in “OZ”. Sometimes great things come in little unassuming packages. Heck, I was in Times Square performing in a huge Theatre but I didn’t feel any tectonic plates shifting like I do in my valley Theatre.
It’s hard to stay the course in a town that’s constantly moving. In a world that’s accessible by a click of a google browser. History shows us that great pieces of art took years to complete. Our art matures as we mature. Things change. The original intention morphs into new creative expressions. Don’t give-up! Don’t listen to the nay-sayers “Oh, your still doing your show…”
I’m not STILL doing anything. I am growing and changing every breathing moment. Tonight’s show will never exactly be the same again. Devour each beautiful moment of your life. It’s not a dress rehearsal. This is it. Grab life by it’s steering wheel and drive!
Time to leave my little store and head-out. Lunch meeting. Yay, I will be able to act on a full stomach tonight.
Hang-on….the best is yet to come!
“I remain just one thing, and one thing only, and that is a clown. It places me on a higher plane then any politician”- Charlie Chaplin
I got stood-up! Literally. Five senior audience members got-up and walked out on me within the first 15 minutes of my show the other night!
What could I do? I thanked them for coming, told them to have a good night, and to grab some candy on their way out. I was just launching into a funny bit about ” how to treat a woman’s breasts”. Now they’ll never know. Poor people.
The shows are continuing to be rewarding and exhausting. June’s audiences are filled with big industry hitters. Showtime, HBO, Bravo and Oxygen. It’s not like I’m not getting a chance to show my stuff. I’ve always seen myself on a TV series. Since the first day I arrived in Hollywood. I’ve taken detours chasing Chicken Mcnuggets down the beach, doing Shakespeare in the park, and starring in obscure Indie movies. But it’s always come down to the sitcom for me. Why? I like to make people laugh. I like bringing light where there is dark.
I grew-up in the sitcom (not reality) culture. I am currently re-examining this desire. I must dare to ask myself: ”Have I outgrown this dream”? Is it a “myth”? Is it just a safety latch I hang on to? I mean most the sitcoms I see are inane. It’s almost embarrassing to have all this acting training and experience and still be saying, “I want a sitcom”. Shouldn’t I want Carnegie Hall, The Public Theatre, or a Sony Classics film? We each follow tiny clues that lead us to our destiny. A never-ending river that vacillates but nevertheless takes us where we are going. I docked my boat five years ago on this play. It was the first worthwhile piece of acting I’ve had to perform. No TV studio gave it to me. No network or casting director had to approve me. And I don’t have to wait for someone to give me permission to act. I love my play. The play is real. The sitcom is still a myth. What’s not a myth is the need to do some “good” in this world.
And if I can be “the clown” and brighten a person’s day…what a life well lived! If I can make another person feel less alone or understand that the struggles we all endure are universal…I’ll be happy. I once dated a famous comedian (no names!) and he told me that he has made a deliberate choice to be “the clown”. He said it almost as if he had struck a deal with the little red horned guy himself. But I think what he meant was that he agreed to accept the particular talent he had been given. Almost in gratitude. I’ve fought myself on this most of my life. Now I see it as a gift. Maturity has allowed me to see how much emotional pain we all carry and endure. And forget turning on the TV news. That’s just self masochism. People say clowns are really sad. Of course they are. If they weren’t, they wouldn’t have the need to entertain. Out of their need for approval and love, they love us in return.
I auditioned for a play the other day. When finished, the director and I had a long chat about my future. I mentioned my fantasy of moving home to Boston. Letting go of Hollywood. He advised me against it. He used two descriptive words describing the new life that would await me setting my imagination into a picturesque world similar to “Amelie”:
“Quiet Desperation”
I first visualized me as a suburban housewife sitting in a rocking chair counting the hours. Then the image transported me to a social gathering in a “Nantucket-esque” world where I had a forced smile pretending to enjoy a conversation about Cottage Gardens. From there, I could see tears in my eyes, holding my five screaming children but secretly dreaming of the footlights and Hollywood.
“No! not that!!!”
My daydream came to an abrupt halt.
Is it the word “Quiet” or the word “Desperation”? What is it that sends chills down my spine?
The desperation , clearly, would be clearly putting my dreams aside …and the quietness…well that’s easy…
Missing the pre-show buzz of the audience, the humming of the lights, the silence of a fully present moment lived-out on stage, the laughter, the sighs, the music, the applause…
No acting to pump my veins…giving me oxygen, filling my lungs. and beating my heart.
I suppose anyone that puts aside a dream may feel “quiet desperation”. Maybe it’s a sign to pick-up that dream and make some noise. Get really loud. Demand what you want. Shout it out to the world. Someone is bound to pay attention. Bring out your inner clown. The one that played so fearlessly and joyfully as a child.
When I was a kid, my Dad used to sing a Cole Porter song after Shabbat dinner and we kids would all dance around and be silly. It went something like this:
“Be a clown. Be a clown. All the world loves a clown”.
I guess I took it literally.
Thank Goodness.
He could have sung, “Be an accountant, be a Bank Teller” (not that those aren’t good jobs but probably not a good fit for me. Besides, I’m mathematically challenged. Just look at my bank account).
ps. check this out: http://www.dailymotion.com/video/x2tqdo_be-a-clown_music
“Smile. It confuses people.” What a sad little bumper sticker. I wrote it down. I wanted to think about these words. Is it possible that people are so withholding? That the mere gesture of a smile is a rarity these days? Boohoo. I certainly don’t subscribe to this philosophy. I’m FULL of smiles these days. I like to think of my smile as a cross between Julia Robert’s and Carly Simon’s. Big!
And being on stage twice a week gives me plenty to smile about. It’s a biweekly school recess. Lots of playtime. But seeing that I’m many years away from school bells and boxed lunches, I’m also having the mature feeling that one gets when they are having a genuine and poignant experience. With repetition comes growth, discovery and fine-tuning. Similar to my cello I used to play, the constant use of my instrument is creating a rather “organic” experience for me. The characters are starting to live in my bones. They speak how “they” want. They move as “they” feel. Rachel is stepping out of the way so the music can be heard in a clearer and concise manner. The inner message of the piece wants to be heard. I’m just the mouthpiece.
I had another beautiful and mystical experience art modeling last night. It was an head sculpturing class taught by this amazing Danish Artist and Professor. He had me sit in a chair next to a sculptured bust of Beethoven. The sculpture was left from an earlier lesson on drawing. But I couldn’t help but feel the importance of posing next to this legend. I mused on the idea that I was an equal to this music prodigy. If just for one night. What if by some miracle, I could make such an impact on art one day? How would that knowledge change my perspective on my daily struggles? My feelings of being underappreciated or unacknowledged by the Industry. I would have an inner secret. A new level of confidence. I would live like no reviews or opinions mattered. How free I would be. Because I would know that in the end I would be satisfied with my artistic contribution to this world. Stanislavsky called it the “imaginary circumstance”. Maybe I can live by the actor’s magic “What if”? Believe I am going to make a difference. Because then, I think a lot of my anxieties about “finding my place in the world” would be put to rest. And I could just take it one day at a time. Besides, Beethoven had his time on the limelight. He’s moved on.
It’s been a hard three weeks. As much as I love being on stage, producing the show has been a financial strain. I try so hard to stay optimistic. After all, I have almost every television network attending. But that little Eiffel Tower still sits on my stage every night reminding me that if this all fades away like a cloud, I’ll do plan B. Move to Paris.
Like every other American, I have my local neighborhood Starbucks. There is a “posse” of the sweetest, most intelligent, 75 plus year old men. There is a former opera Singer, jazz artist, and more. I stumbled in with frustration the other morning only to be cheerfully greeted by my pals. I started complaining about my financial woes. And suddenly I wanted to bite my tongue. These men all live on limited salaries and pensions. And yet they are always upbeat. Still sing. Still play music. And here I am, in the throes of my career, with all the time and opportunity to earn money with my art. The writing is not on the wall. I have the energy, the wherewithal, and the ambition to change my destiny. I walked away feeling that somehow everything was put into a proper perspective. I know that in the overall picture: money doesn’t matter. No movie says this better then George S. Kaufman and Moss Hart’s ”You Can’t Take It With You.”
And by the way, you can’t.
It’s just the here and now.
I had to let my Publicist go so I’m flying solo now. I still can’t get the LA Times or Variety to review me. What a shame. I’m going “Grassroots”. I wrote a heartfelt note to the Editor of Variety and left a sappy voicemail message for LA Weekly Theater Editor. BUT, I laid my cards on the table. I told them what I wanted. Needed. So unless I want to start making brownies and knocking on their doors, I’ve done everything I can. That should give me some peace. It’s when you don’t go the distance that you sell yourself short. Always go the distance. No regrets that way. My Rabbi-Therapist says I need to finish this show and see what’s “next” in my life.
Letting go is always the toughest part.
But, I don’t have to worry about that today. My worry plate is full. Rent to pay, seats to fill, and a happy hour to go to! I’m going to make a toast to “What’s in the here and now, and what awaits me”. May the two meet in the most pleasing and gentle way.
I overheard a conversation between two men at the gym this morning. While I forced my abs into submission on the curl machine, I caught the jest of their conversation: prostate cancer. It seemed that one of their peers at acquired the disease at a premature age. The conversation ended with the two men agreeing life was “A luck of the draw. A flip of the coin.” The last expression resonated with me. Mainly because it’s a line from my one-woman show. While transforming from my modern day self to a middle-aged valley housewife, I tell the audience “My friend says there’s no such thing as destiny. There’s just what happens to you. And what you do with what happens to you. I wonder what will happen to me? The flip of a coin could change everything”. And on my play spirals and twists proving in comedic and semi-tragic detail, that although life may not always go the way you want it to exactly, just being ALIVE is enough!
Amazing how life imitates art and art imitates life. We are all struggling for meaning in our lives. With an invisible time clock ticking. How many of us have had scary brushes with mortality, a bad test at the Doctor, a near-miss car accident, the plane or subway we “almost” got on but fortunately didn’t? Life is dangerous and risky. It’s definitely for the brave hearted. Because there are no guarantees. The coin could flip heads or tails depending on the strength of the toss or the tilt of the table.
After last Wednesday’s stupendous opening night filled with Press and Ovation voters I woke-up this morning for my Sunday show dismayed that I had no such people in my audience tonight. I mentally slapped myself for such a shallow thought. I had to regroup. Ask myself “Why am I doing this play?” When I was studying the Meisner technique, we did an exercise with the Spoon River Anthology play. My teacher taught us that the meaning and message of the monologue was always at the end. There was the clue.
I started reciting the end of “Sugar Happens”. The part where I admit that “just being alive is enough”. That anything short of death is GREAT. And like a shooting star, my gratitude sparked and my purpose for performing this piece was crystallized.
Because the coin CAN land on this side.
In the beginning of the Cohen Brother’s new movie, “A Serious Man”, there is a quote from Rashi:
“Receive with Simplicity everything that happens to you”.
I think I’ll start abiding by this quote.
It’s easy to get caught-up in the “flash” of this run. Needing the accolades. Forgetting why I’m doing the show.
Simplicity. Take it with a grain of salt. Praise matters but it is not all omnipotent. My Mom sends me the best newspaper clippings. She recently mailed me one featuring the Actress Estelle Parsons. Ms. Parsons said:” If you’re a performer, you want to be loved and accepted, but you have to resist that”. Yes, self-discipline. Narcissus fell in the water looking at her own reflection. Ouch!
Looks are fleeting. Youth is fleeting. Audiences are fleeting. So focus on the real things in your life. People. I was honored to have the staff and Doctor from my GYN office come to see my show. Now they know me” inside and out”. I love having a potpourri of people from all corners of my life. In a way my show is an homage to them. They’ve all played an important role in my life. And continue to.
My meager budget is stretched beyond its means producing this show. I actually have to have my make-up done in my make-up artist’s car in the parking lot of the Beverly Center. She has a day job too. So while she’s on her lunch break, I get the best glam over. A good story for Jay Leno. Another memory to add to the till.
Richard Boleslavsky writes in his book ”Acting: The First Six Lessons”: “Keep those memories in order. You can never tell when you will need them, but they are your only friend’s and teachers in your craft. They are your only paints and brushes. And they will bring you reward. They are yours-your own property. They are not imitations, and they will give you experience, precision, economy, and power”.” Page 52.
I live and act by this paragraph. Read the rest of it if you can.
Nine more shows to go. My senses are alive, my pulse pounding, every cell in my body is preparing for my next moment on stage. I’m ready to fly. My entire life has prepared me for this. The best thing about acting is that you truly live in the moment. Life is so much easier on stage. All the worries, distractions, stress of everyday life, are quieted for those 60 minutes. I slip out of my skin. I enter an imaginative world that feels equally real as this one. But it’s not.
And when I return to this life, I’m just a tiny bit wiser. And really ALIVE!
“I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore, Toto”. I get it. As soon we are accustomed to one level of comfort, BAM, the carpet is pulled beneath us and we have to start all over again. Ah, the joy and agony of discomfort. I am thoroughly excited for my new six week run of my show but slightly off kilter at the same time. Where before I had to worry about filling-up one “house”, now I have twelve shows to seat. Where before I was happy to invite an occasional magazine to preview my show, now I have a Publicist who has invited 400 media outlets to come. The stakes are higher, the limbo bar is raised, and I’m going to grow another inch of courage by the time this is over. I take great relief in knowing how much hard work I have put into the actual show. It’s the one dependable I can count on. So the solo-show-girl is learning that sometimes it’s ok not to go it alone. And that any change or growth has to include an expansion of self. Ouch. So easy to stay comfy. So easy to “kind of do it, but not really”. So calming to know what to expect. I walked-out to the ocean tonight and the waves were turbulent and out of control. The heavy winds were pushing the current from side to side. And I thought to myself, “Now that’s life.” Unpredictable. Beautifully so. I want to be strong like those waves. They were powerful and magnificent.
Not comfortable at all.
I continue to race around to all of my four jobs while this tornado is swelling. I find the routine calming. The simplicity charming. The paycheck a dire necessity. I’m my own “Sugar Daddy”. I’m sporting the entire bill of this show. Who would have thought? Grateful to have a few donations, and hoping more come. But it’s all on my shoulders. Which comes first my show or my rent? Don’t answer Rach. I need a miracle. A big miracle. I did get a group booking from a Hadassah group. I’m in heaven.
On the docket for next week: a Journalist wants to come watch us rehearse. How cool. To “see the process.” Sometimes I looove LA. If I squint my eyes, I’m in NY. And there’s this really dedicated Theater scene. Almost underground. But it’s a place where people really care about the work. They have integrity. They throw themselves like Sampson to the Lion, Jonah to the whale. It’s all consuming. Plays matter, playwrights matter, directors, matter, objectives matter, costumes matter and we’re all having a grand ole’ time. Because a life lived in the Theatre is a special privileged life. And we, the players, know that. Gratitude fills our bones when we step onto a stage. With words to speak and emotions to feel. A story to live. Live tangible feelings to share with a live receptive curious audience. An audience made of human beings just like us. A trust is formed. Hearts are opened. Minds are permeable. Imaginations have no limit. For that one, or maybe two hours. Time stops. And we are in the moment. It is the Theatre. The most beautiful place in the world. 180 seats or 39. It’s a world unto it’s own. A place I will always call home.
When I received my first Actor’s Equity membership card a few months ago, this eloquent and poignant quote from Ruth Gordon was attached:
“That walk from the darkness backstage through the door or opening in the scenery where I make an entrance into the bright lights with that big dim mass out beyond, which bursts into an applause then the first terrifying sound that comes out of my throat, which they describe as a voice, but that first instant it is the siren of terror and intention and faith and hope and trust and vanity and security and insecurity and bloodcurdling courage which is acting”.
Is that not THE most perfect description? I had the honor of befriending and working with another great theater legend, the great late Actor John Randolph. We worked on a show together when I was a just a young sprite. He signed our program “COURAGE” and I have held on to that word like a mother holds onto it’s baby. Just when I think I can’t do it, I hear that word. I think of John. A man who survived the Hollywood “Blacklist”…a man who zestfully worked well into his 80’s, a man who took the time to instill a mindset into me that has carried me far and long. Kudos John. This one’s dedicated to you.
Now, On with the show!
The age of enlightenment had arrived! After doing one very successful show last week, attended by two television networks (and more wanting to come)…I realized: “These one night stands aren’t getting me anywhere!“. Delicious in the moment. Adventurous. Daring. Satisfying every physical urge. Only to leave me stark alone the next morning. Sure I get the “day after” calls, the “tender words”, the feeling of being appreciated. All the summoned passion spent in a single night with no promise of a tomorrow. That’s what doing these one-night performances feel like. Well NO more. I’m committing to a long term relationship. SIX weeks of weekly shows. What they call in the Theatre as a “Run”. Long enough to form a real relationship with audiences, long enough to commit to “sticking- it out” and most importantly, long enough to be reviewed. After five years of work shopping my show, I’ve found a home to hang my hat (and my shower curtain).
Next stop: The Valley. May 12. The Sidewalk Studio Theatre. A mere few blocks from Warner Brothers, Disney and Bob’s Big Boy. A catapult to “the other side of the hill”. Is the grass greener or air smoggier? Who cares…I’m on the boards!
An epic amount of work will be required. But that’s show biz baby. If my show was a cat, this would be its 5th life. The years of work shopping my play will finally reach their crescendo. There will be no excuse no settle for one-nighters anymore.
And then, I will be able to mark a notch on my belt, and maybe, move-on. Whether I move on to London for a run or move onto Paris to retire. I’ll move-on.
I’ve been absolutely fascinated with the documentary I’ve been watching “September Issue”. The film is an inside look at Vogue Magazine and it’s editor Anna Wintour. When asked what her greatest strength was, she answered, “Decisiveness”.
Coincidentally, my weakest. I’m a sentimental creature. Tied to the past. Stubborn even. As brave as I am, I’m also the last one to make my chess move. It often takes an earthquake to move me. I dapple my feet in the pool of ideas, fantasies, “plans” that never get realized. A dear friend, embarking upon a life change told me, “Tomorrow is my today”. It struck a chord. Today IS my plan. It’s a cold reality but also a burner under my pan. Get going. Do the run of the show. Then tackle the next goal on the check-off list. Go on Craig’s list and find that apartment in Paris over the Seine.
I went to a three-hour orientation for new members of Actor’s Equity. I felt like a neophyte. Like I’d just got off the bus at Hollywood and Vine. The staff went out of their way to welcome us and induct us into a world of theater where you actually get “paid”. The Actress Michelle Lee was there to tell us her “story”. It was a rite of passage for me. I am “legit”. There’s nowhere to run and hide. Two unions. A six-week show.
I wanted to be an Actress since I was a little tiny girl. My parents had to endure living room talent shows, magic shows, fashions shows, skits, recitals, dances, and ventriloquist acts. And my favorite, singing “ Somewhere Over The Rainbow” while my Dad accompanied me at the piano. My song continues. 5000 miles from home. The early kindle of my little girl’s dreams still stolking my fire.
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