Taking Care of the Audience

Years ago while watching an episode of, Inside the Actors Studio, a program I watched religiously, I took note of something that week's guest, Christopher Walken said. "The audience doesn't always need to know what you're talking about, but they need to know YOU know what you're talking about."

I thought back on the hundreds of plays and films I saw over the years, their plot lines and dialogue varying in scope and complexity. And it was true. The films that delved into topics that were not widely appreciated, or understood were no less impactful because of the storytellers behind them. As long as I felt like I was being taken care of as an audience member, I'd keep participating in the event.

Many years later Walken's words still ring true. In fact, they seem just as relevant beyond the stage.

Kindness to Self

Hustle. Grind. Putting in the Work. These are some of the words and phrases that have become part of our contemporary narrative. In our quest to gain riches, start flourishing businesses, and inspire the masses we sometimes loose sight on the importance of being kind to ourselves.

During my grad school days I can remember walking to the theater during a chilly February mornings, sometimes at 5:30 am, thumping my chest while mumbling various mantras under my breath. I was usually able to tease out a little more energy, some motivation, however fleeting.
But looking back,  I failed to show myself enough compassion.

Work hard. Chase your dreams. Hold yourself to a high standard.

But remember to treat yourself the way you'd expect others to. You'll end up finding the work much more fulfilling, the journey far more gratifying.

Allies, Not Enemies

For years I worked as a casting reader for Broadway and off-Broadway plays. It was an invaluable experience where I learned a great deal.

In fact, one lesson in particular fundamentally changed the way I viewed not only auditioning, but interviews and collaboration in general. It was this: the people on the other side of the table are on your side.

I can't tell you the number of times the casting director did everything short of a seance hoping the next actor through the door would knock their socks off. In other words, they want you to be the answer to their problems.

One could easily be mistaken for thinking otherwise by his or her demeanor, or tone, but rest assured you're all on the same team.

Delay Time

I came across a term I'd never heard before yesterday: "Delay time." Delay time refers the time it takes between starting a new endeavor and reaping the rewards for doing so. These rewards may come in the form of praise, money, or even notoriety.

Apparently, delay time is one of the top reasons people don't even try to pursue their goals. Whether it's starting a small business, or embarking on a career as a professional actor later on in life, for many people the payoff just feels too far off in the distance they decide it's not even worth beginning. A pity.

There are two ways to solve the problem. One, you can fall in love with the process itself. This is where the real growth and rewards are found as far as I can tell.

And two, and perhaps more tangibly, you can set-up what are called, "quick-wins." Honor yourself each day for moving the needle forward, however insignificant it may feel. Over time, this will accumulate.

Rather than beat yourself up for not landing the lead on a series in a month, give yourself some credit for the steps you took over the last 4 weeks. Maybe you signed up for a workshop, made an appointment with a photographer for headshots, or read an inspirational article.

Those things matter too and should certainly be recognized.

Build on Who You Are

Tony-nominated director Diane Paulus once said to our class: "The more you build who you are as a person - how you educate yourself, how you identify, what interests you in the world, the issues you care about - all of those things will make you a better performer."

To my 20-something year self it was difficult to fully grasp the scope of her message. But as the years went on, and I began living a life and not just a career, her words began to resonate.

The characters I wanted to portray on stage were living breathing beings who cared deeply about human rights, politics, education, children, and poverty. They were three-dimensional people who weren't actors but citizens representing an idea, a possibility, a unique voice.

I discovered the only way I could even begin to understand the complicated nuances of their humanity was to start exploring my own. This required me to get up and out into the world rather than bury myself in the pages of a play or rely solely on my technical training.

Easier to Avoid than Resist

There's a great deal to be said about having discipline. It's not always easy to maintain a heightened focus on the task at hand. Those who are able to consistently zero in on what's most important over a sustained period of time are often very successful in their careers and personal lives.

Still, I think  one of the less talked about keys to the success of such productive people is not discipline alone.

High achievers know that distraction is easier to avoid than resist.

More than One Way to Save a Life

Bigger. Better. More important. We're often conditioned, particularly in Western society, to think in terms of the next best thing. A quick glance at your iPhone touchscreen reveals it's already time to upgrade your apps and software. Didn't I just do that? I often wonder. This notion of thinking also permeates the way we view our chosen career paths.

In a previous blog entry I talked about how success is masterfully doing that which you love to do. But too often, I see people associate their vocations with their sense of self-worth. "I'm not exactly saving the world," my friend joked recently when describing his job.

Doctors in particular are held in high esteem because they do in fact save the world over and over. It just happens to be one person at a time.

But the longer I spend my life creating the more I appreciate that there are many ways to save a life, particularly through artistry.

Though a painting, a book, or a compelling performance on stage can't cure a terminal illness, it can absolutely resuscitate one's soul from a lack of inspiration. It can reconnect one with their sense of humanity however lost it may have been.

What you think, write, create, and say means something. And without realizing it, you may have already saved a life.

Read Widely

By most accounts, I was a pretty good kid growing up. I never had much interest in getting into trouble, sparing my parents a headache or two.

This is not to say I was the perfect son by any stretch. One source of great anxiety for my mom and dad was my refusal to sit still and finish a book. I'd never seen my father come so close to weeping as he tried everything short of a seance to get me to fall in love with literature.

It took some time, but their efforts paid off. Books have become something I can't live without. They also played a very important role in making me a better actor.

By reading widely I was able to consider perspectives wildly different from my own. When taking on new projects, I began to think as a playwright, director, or producer might. Characters now leaped from the page becoming three-dimensional.

Discovering more about science, history, philosophy, and current events enabled me to connect a heightened sense of humanity to the plays and scripts I read. I began to rely less on just my technical training as an actor and get more in touch with what it really meant to be human.

Books pushed, stretched, and nudged me to think bigger.

They've served me well in my pursuit to become a great storyteller and beyond.

True Success

Like many young actors, I had a very conventional notion of what success looked like. It meant gracing the covers of magazines, being recognized on the street, and winning awards.

As I got further and further into my career I met artists of all mediums who had experienced few, if any of those things. Yet, they were remarkably talented and made what I thought to be incredibly important contributions to their craft. To me, they were true superstars.

In time, I learned true success is masterfully doing what you love to do and sharing it with others.

Write it Down

I can't tell you the number of times I've come across a scene, or a overheard a conversation and thought, This would make a great film. Unfortunately, when it was time to put pen to paper ideas for what world to create would elude me, or not amount to much.

It wasn't until I started carrying a pen everywhere and began to casually jot down my thoughts, insights, or observations. When it then came to sit down at a  my laptop, or crack open a notebook, there was suddenly a million different directions my work could go.

Ideas cross-pollinate and can lead from one to next. Be sure to take inventory of them whenever you can.

Carry a pen around. You'll be glad you did.

Appreciate Instead of Emulate

For many years I fell into the same trap I believe a lot of young actors fall victim to. I devoured the biographies and films of actors like Brando, Dean, and Montgomery Clift. I watched the same interviews over and over hoping to gain greater insight into the aura these actors had created. And though I never tried to emulate them, I believed in order to create great art one needed to suffer, almost immeasurably.

But as I got older I realized that these men also lived profoundly unhappy lives. In many instances, they were held captive by their demons and inability to allow themselves to be who they really were. As as consequence, it seems like deep personal connections and happiness eluded them for most of their years. Great actors yes, but content with life? Not so much it seems.

In time I began to pick up on a few lessons: creative expression is not about martyrdom. It's about bringing our most authentic selves to a stage, a canvas, and film set. It's about expressing who we are at our core without allowing fear to hold us back in telling stories.

I also realized that life would present its own challenges along the way. One didn't need to seek them out. The more life experience one gained the more they'd be able to bring to their artistry. Courage was actually making the effort each day to live a life of fulfillment - a life of good contagion.

I still admire those actors for the work they contributed and their importance to the medium of storytelling. But I've learned to appreciate rather than emulate.

Fear

We often associate remarkably successful people with being fearless. Conventional thinking argues such people are devoid of doubt, or unease when it comes to making big bold decisions in business and in life.

But by their own admission, they are afraid. Very much so. In fact, one should take great solace in knowing that having fear means you're not a sociopath.

What I've noticed in my observations of people who create meaningful projects that make an impact in their communities, the lives of people around them, and even the world is that they operate despite fear, not because of its vacancy.

Acknowledging that fear it exists and that it's okay to experience it is the first of many steps to heightened self-awareness. Once it's been acknowledged you can proceed. And if something is important enough to you chances are you will.

Be Clear and Honest

The angst I've felt when it comes to pushing both my creative and personal goals ahead has often come from one, sometimes two sources:

A. I'm not being clear on how to get what I want.

B. I'm not being honest about what I want.

You can be focused on a singular objective and eventually discover it wasn't what you wanted all along. Or, perhaps somewhere along the way what you valued changed. Worst of all, you may have been pursuing a certain life in order to make someone else happy.

This is where honesty comes in. It's the ability to take a hard look at what YOU really, really, really want. Once you've established that, you can begin the groundwork on getting clear on how to go about getting it.

Stay Ready

One of the best bits of advice I ever received from a mentor happened one Sunday evening just before his weekly on-camera class. We sipped our green teas just across the street from a Tribeca studio, finally catching up after several months of scheduling and then rescheduling a get together.

For years, he'd taken me under his wing and we'd often speak for hours after a coaching session, or an audition. But after 14 years on the grind his star was finally on the rise. He was not only teaching a highly sought after class two days out of the week, but was now a series regular on one of New York's hottest shows. He had less time to spare these days, but was still as supportive as ever.

"You're ready just like I was," he told me. It was confirmation of a feeling I'd felt for a long while, but one I still took great solace in hearing. "You just need a break," he added.

As we got ready to make our way to class I asked him what one does when they're ready but haven't yet received the opportunity needed to reach the next level.

Without a moment's hesitation he looked to me and simply said, "Stay ready."

A Tricky Hump to Get Over

As I got further and further into my acting career, one of the challenges I began to wrestle with most was how my work would be received by the world. As a young actor, there was rarely a moment where I doubted the influence I had delivering a Shakespeare monologue, or a scene from Pinter. I was presumptuous and wildly naive.

As I became more experienced, I realized not everyone cared about the work I'd put into bringing a character to life, or the stories I so desperately wanted to tell. And looking back on it, I wonder what I expected of people. Did I really believe the spotlight, both literally and figuratively should always shine on me? Who did I think I was?

Still, it proved a difficult hump to get over for a long time. Though my hangups may have been rooted to some degree in selfishness, my intentions were also earnest. I simply wanted to share my passion with anyone who'd listen.

What I forgot was the work first needed to matter to me. It was that level of authenticity to myself and my creativity that had first drawn people in. And because for so many years the work was inherently meaningful, I wasn't so disheartened when others didn't share my sentiments.

It's a bummer when the house lights go on and you see scores of empty seats. If you're an actor long enough it'll happen more often than not.

But what's important is to remember why the work matters in the first place. If it resonates with you and you still feel it matters than you'll learn to take the ambivalence of others less personally.

Stories Matter

The earliest figurative cave paintings in Europe go back roughly 30,000 years. They can be found in the Coliboaia Cave in Romania and the Chauvet Cave in France.

A voice teacher once told me that the Ancient Greeks believed words held up the pillars of the universe, and if they weren't spoken with enough passion and vigor they were convinced the universe would collapse.

And certain tribes in Africa passed down their cultural heritage from one generation to the next without any written text. A failure to listen meant one literally didn't know where they came from.

Stories connect us all through the human condition.
Stories Matter...A LOT.

Keep Telling Them.

Just Ask

Yesterday afternoon I went to meet an old friend of mine. I'd asked her earlier in the week if she wouldn't mind sharing a story about growing up in Oakland for a website I'd been working on geared towards promoting positive news in the area. Thankfully, she agreed and off we went. "I've been giving this a lot of thought," she told me.

I set my recorder down on the coffee table as her 7-month old son Toshiro bounced on her lap. Within seconds she shared with me a remarkable story about her family's history in Oakland. Evidently, her grandfather ran an illegal gambling ring with tables that turned into the walls. It was something out of a movie.

As she delved into more serious topics like the hardships her family experienced during World War II like the internment of Japanese Americans and the relocation of thousands and thousands of families, I got a sense of the gratitude she had for their enormous sacrifices. She beamed when relaying anecdotes of her mother's work ethic and grandparents' determination to give their children a better life.

I left her home grateful for her time and marveled how open she was about her family's struggles. It then dawned on me that I'd experienced the same situation on numerous occasions: in noisy coffee shops, onboard planes, BBQs, and even before an audition.

I realized people have inspiring and interesting stories they want to tell. They're just waiting for someone to ask.

Not Understanding

I think the root of a great deal of angst comes from our failure to understand why life sometimes unfolds the way it does. I've spent far too much time racking my brain to figure out why a romantic relationship failed, wondering what I could have done differently.

I have tried over and over to figure out why my extraordinary efforts towards a pursuit did not bear the fruits I hoped it would.

And I've certainly felt my fair share of frustration from college admissions offices to literary agents to casting directors.

As a child I looked at not understanding something with a sense of wonder, a curiosity that has sadly been swapped for apprehension. Of course, as one grows older you gradually begin to know what you don't know, which is important for any meaningful self-development. It's important we continue to strive, to learn, to combat our ignorance.

But what if there was a sweet spot? A place where instead of getting worked up about why you weren't cast in a role, or your book was denied publication, or perhaps a blog you thought would resonate with people didn't we maintained a sense of poise. What if we eased into the unknown and didn't get worked up about the million or so variables we didn't even consider leading up to the result?

What if we looked at failure as feedback and used it as an opportunity to adjust our approach while not being so hard on ourselves? I'm convinced this would put years back on our lives.

Maybe there's a place where not understanding something is okay. Perhaps instead, we can tap back into our inner child and pivot back towards curiosity and that wonderful flexibility in thinking we often lose as we get older.

Just a thought.

Build a Tribe

The nature of pursuing a career in the arts can certainly lend itself to living in prolonged stints of solitude...lots of solitude. A nonconformist way of being means foregoing the daily courses of punching a clock each morning, or attending power lunches.

And though this lack of predictability may seem appealing at first, it becomes less shiny when one understands the necessity of structuring one's own day and finding creative ways to move the needle forward each day in your respected career.

I also learned that it makes building a tribe of like-minded and positive artists who have your best interests at heart even more important. For years, I chose competition over community and believed that another's success meant I needed to fail.

But the longer I stayed in the game, the more I realized how much more productive it would be to extend a hand rather than to close it. In time, I created a group of actors I could trust, lean on, and share my struggles with. This created a support group that could empathize with the day-to-day struggle of such a competitive industry and offer much needed advice. They also offered perspective when I'd lost it, eased doubts when they grew, and reminded me there was a whole world beyond acting.

Build your tribe because nothing of value is ever achieved alone.

The Less Trodden Path

The American journalist and political commentator Walter Lippmann once said, "When all men think alike, no one thinks very much." In my own experience, I've noticed a pervasive fear many people have of thinking for themselves. Perhaps there's a stigma involved with pursuing a less trodden path, of standing out, or being different.

But creativity is, in essence, stepping up to make a statement and is sometimes an act of defiance. And when a performance, a painting, or a piece of music is truly compelling, it is rarely because it's defiant for its own sake. Instead, it is the courageous execution of a thought by one or many who felt they could no longer keep it to themselves.

Don't underestimate the power of original thought, expression, or movement. Embrace your singularity and when you're ready, share it with the world.

We'll be waiting.

Get Comfortable With "No"

Remember, failure is ONLY feedback. Get cozy with hearing, "No" because ultimately...

Our screening committee enjoyed the opportunity to view your film and gave it careful consideration. We regret to inform you that we will not be including your film in the 2016 Boston Film Festival. 

Dear Nicholas, 

Thank you for submitting your project to the 2016 San Jose International Short Film Festival. Unfortunately, we are not able to include it in our program this year. 

Dear Nicholas Maccarone, This is a difficult letter to send, and probably even harder to receive. You're receiving it because you submitted Communication to the Port Townsend Film Festival, and regretfully we will not be screening it this year.

Thank you for submitting your film for consideration for this year’s Toronto International Film Festival. Unfortunately we were unable to find a place for your film in this year's Short Cuts programme.

Dear Nicholas Maccarone, 

Thank you for sending us the screener of Communication for consideration. 2016 was another terrific year with around 700 International Shorts submissions, of which 32 were accepted. We had more high quality shorts submitted this year than ever, and regrettably with a limited number of spaces available there were only so many we could fit in. There were a lot of difficult decisions, an unfortunately, we were unable to find room for everything. I sincerely apologize for any disappointment this may cause you. 

Dear Nicholas Maccarone: 

Thank you for your interest in the Margret McBride Literary Agency. 

We have reviewed the information regarding your project, and after careful consideration, we do not feel our agency is the right home for your project. 

Dear Nick,

Thank you for querying me about your manuscript, TO THE PROSPECTIVE ARTIST. I've read your sample pages and I'm sorry to say that the project just isn't a perfect fit with my current needs.

Thank you for sending me a query letter describing your work. After careful evaluation, I have decided that I am not the right agent to represent your work. I can only properly represent materials that greatly excite or interest me. 

Dear Nicholas,

Thank you for your query and interest in representation by Martin Literary Management. I regret that MLM is unable to take you on as a client at this time. 

...we will have to decline your kind offer to publish your book on acting.

Again, many thanks for your interest in Timber Press. We wish you the best of luck in finding a suitable publisher for your book!

All you need is one, "Yes." Go forth. Undaunted.

Living a Life and Not Just a Career

"Your happiness is not predicated on your art," a friend once told me. It was a seismic shift in roles. Here, was a young man I once affectionately referred to as my "younger brother," now schooling me on the importance of living a life and not just a career.

It was a realization he'd stumbled upon after being fired from a job at a theater company. During the long plane ride home he had time to consider all the ways he'd said no to life for the sake of advancing his career. "People were always inviting me out to parties after shows and I always said, 'No.' I really regret that."

How many times had I too declined an engagement, cancelled an invitation, or sought solitude to rehearse the same monologues for hours on end? I wondered. It wasn't until I was physically, mentally, and spiritually exhausted from the daily grind of being an actor that I was nudged, or rather, shook into remember there was more to life than deciding which blazer to wear for my headshots.

In time, I started to slowly engage with the world I'd neglected, choosing instead to participate in every way I could. Slowly, the world was once again three dimensional, my priorities re-calibrated, and acting somehow became a joy again.

Seek Community

Invariably, I'd feel the tension in a busy casting office when drifting into a room filled with actors auditioning for the same role. I'd take my seat next to someone who might even resemble me, headphones blasting, while skimming his sides.

Like many actors, my defenses went up when I spotted my competition. The sight of other actors was a threat. This is MY part, I'd convince myself. Who do they think they are?

But in time, I realized these were people with lofty dreams just like me. They'd worked hard, made enormous sacrifices, and were equally deserving of success. When I finally made this realization, the people in the room had names, families, hobbies, goals, fears, and worries just like me. I began to appreciate that my success did not need to come at the expense of their failure.

It became much more interesting to seek community rather than competition. I was still committed to doing my absolute best and doing everything in my power to book the role, but I no longer eyed my competition as prey. They were now comrades.

This transition lightened up the mood, refocused my approach to the work, and I believe made performing much more enjoyable.

I'm glad I made the shift.

Fail Fast

At the offices of Facebook there is a sign that reads, "Fail Fast. Break Things." At first glance the philosophical parallels between the tech world and the performing arts may seem vague at best. Still, I have found some unique similarities. The lesson with the greatest personal resonance being the importance of putting original content out into the world before it's "perfect" because there is no such thing.

One of the most crucial bits of advice I would have offered to my younger self would be to just start creating. "But how?" I would have likely asked. "Just start writing, building, trying, failing, and see where it takes you." I'd reply.

Whatever your medium you have no excuses for not beginning. It's been proven you can make a feature film with a smart phone. A community of ambitious playwrights and actors eager to share their voice with the world can be coordinated through countless online resources. And opportunities to share your music can be reached with the purchase of a permit.

You have more power than ever to express your expression and actually have people take part. Don't wait another second. Start today.

Stay Close

For as long as I can remember I wanted to become an actor. I wanted to tell stories. It didn't always matter what the medium was as long as I played some small incidental role in making another world some how to come to life.

When the time finally arrived to decide whether or not I was going to make a real go of making my creative aspirations come true, I had no clue of where to begin. Was there some magic formula? An algorithm? A sage resting atop some precipitous snow capped mountain? A hotline?

In time, I simply tried different ways to stay close to the theater. It didn't matter if I auditioned for a play 30 miles from my house that nobody would see, or if I simply hung my contact information below the header, ACTOR on the events board at San Francisco State University. I just knew I had to somehow stay available so that my world could collide with the one I so longed to be a part of.

And maybe through my earnestness, effort, and developing skill set some one would take notice, take me under their wing, and show me some semblance of direction.

In the end, I learned when you find some way to stay close to your dream good things happen.

Kaizen

This Labor Day morning as I drove towards my favorite coffee shop to wrap up some work, I listened attentively to comedian Steve Martin narrate his book, Born Standing Up. A great read by the way.

What I love most about this book, or any now that I think about it, is the honest and authentic voice truly bold writers speak from. Martin is not shy or ashamed of sharing his setbacks, failures, successes, or even the stormy relationship between he and his father. Through transparency one gains empathy, connection, and perhaps most importantly, trust.

As I cruised past Lake Merritt in search of parking, I heard him say, "Persistence is an amazing substitute for talent." He admits to not having any discernible or innate skill for singing, acting, or even comedy. Instead, it was an ability he honed by relentlessly pounding on his craft every day for years and years on end.

It made me think of a word the Japanese like to use - Kaizen. It literally translates to, "change for better." The philosophy behind Kaizen is big results come from many small changes accumulated over time. I have found this to be a life-changing philosophy.

After several minutes of finding the perfect spot, I was able to set the parking break on a precipitous hill. As I shut the car off and began to mentally outline my day, I thought about the potent force one could be if they had both talent and the discipline to be consistent. Unstoppable, I thought. Totally unstoppable.

More Than One Way

For years I'd hear high productivity experts say things like, "Work smarter, not harder," or "Efficiency is doing the thing right, while effectiveness is doing the right thing." They all sounded good to my ambitious ears and invariably I'd take a closer look at how I was approaching my career goals and wonder if I could be doing more.

Still, it would take years before I actually understood what it meant to work smarter. I enjoyed working hard and was strangely afraid of losing the identity of someone who gave his all to each worthy pursuit. I didn't particularly care if there was a better, more practical way of doing something. I just needed to sweat while doing it.

As I got older, I grew to appreciate two things: (1) there is no substitute for hard work. (2) working smart and working hard are a potent force when combined. The two should co-exist.

I learned however stubborn I was about my goals I still needed to be flexible in my thinking. If one method wasn't working, however diligent I was, I needed to reconsider how to storm the fortress walls. My target was still the same, but I now had enough self-awareness to realize there wasn't just one way to reach it.

Work Where You'll Be Most Happy

Yesterday, at around 6:00 pm, I phoned a friend back in New York. I'd received his text message earlier in the day, which read:

Nick - love to talk to you about LA sometime soon. When might be a good time in the next few days/week?

It seemed only just the other day I was the one frantically texting, emailing, and yes, even phoning mentors and friends to pick their brain about the very same matter.

Anthony and I spoke for about an hour. His concerns and thoughts on leaving the "City of Cities" for Tinsel Town mirrored my own, and presumably every serious actor at one point or another.

"I love New York, but feel like it's hard to get a fair shake out here," I'd hear over and over. It was a sentiment I too felt more often than not.

In the end, I gave Anthony my little spiel, which was based on my experience living in Los Angeles, but drawn more from the heightened sense of self-awareness I had continually tried to hone.

I suggested that if trying his hand in Los Angeles was deeply important to him it was worth going. "There's nothing worse than regret," I told him. "Go out for a year and see if it's for you. If you don't like it you can always return to New York. Only now you'll take solace in knowing you tried."

I could feel his youthful angst slowly wane. If we were sitting across from each other at some busy Manhattan coffee shop I imagined he might be silently nodding.

My last bit of advice was broader in its prose but likely more important for him to hear. "You should also work where you'll be happiest. Even if you're wildly successful but have no joy there's simply no point."

It was a lesson hard won, but one I was glad to pass along. Thankfully it seemed to resonate with him, perhaps striking a chord or two.

"If you have no joy in what you do you have nothing," I concluded.

Listen As If Your Life Depends On It

I continue to be amazed at how the many lessons learned on a cold hardwood floor on the 16th floor of Riverside Church overlooking the Hudson River have lent themselves beautifully to my dad-to-day interactions in the world.

This afternoon, I interviewed for a part-time position as a public speaking and creative writing instructor to school children. Asked what the first lesson I'd teach about becoming a more engaging and compelling leader would be. "I'd teach them the importance of listening," I said without hesitation.

Listening, I've learned, is more than processing the words coming out of another's mouth. It means not thinking of what you'll say next. It is about trying to genuinely connect, to understand another's point of view, however contrasting. It means noticing more, talking less, and striving for a more nuanced and flexible way of thinking.

In short, listening is the Appian Way to riches, possibility, and discovery.

Not Easily Discouraged

This morning I met with the owner of a very prominent and well-respected company in my hometown. Her products seemed to line every storefront I passed by and locals sported her apparel with spirited pride.

I showed up at 10:30 am on the dot and was greeted by a gracious employee of hers. I waited in a makeshift boardroom for a few minutes before she entered. She was kind and quietly took the seat opposite me.

Conscious of her time, I cracked open my laptop and read off the questions I'd prepared well in advance. I wanted some advice on how to start my own project and whether or not she thought it had the legs to be a company, or if it was just a passion project. "I'm going to do it either way," I beamed. "But if it's a side project, others priorities will have to come first." She nodded.

She answered each question succinctly and without pulling any punches. "First you have to get clear on what exactly your site does," she said. I agreed. The truth is, I'd given it a great deal of thought, too much in fact, and had lost sight of my original mission: to create community through positive stories.

By the end of our conversation I also appreciated the complicated nuances and vast challenges she faced on a day-to-day basis. Everyone seemed to have an image of her brand, but it was clear there was much more challenges happening behind the scenes. She explained some frustrations about how the city was changing and doubts about the value of her work. I tried to assure her that what she and her company did for the city were both exceptional and important. She smiled.

As I left and listed all the reasons why she thought my new venture might not be suitable for a business, I left far less discouraged than I would have had I not been an actor for many years. Being an actor had taught me the crucial attribute of resilience and taking things in stride. I possessed a versatility in my thinking that most people didn't possess and it was largely due to my background in the arts. I'd also learned to be relentlessly optimistic, but also not delusional - also a very important quality to seek and balance to strike.

As I gathered my belongings and headed for the door she said, "I admire your passion." I smiled. It's the only way I know how to be, I thought.