New York vs. Los Angeles: How to Choose

A few years ago, I received a frantic call from a friend. For months he’d been mulling over whether to stay in New York or give acting a go in Los Angeles. 

“I love New York,” he said. “But I want to do more TV and film.”

For many actors, there are fewer decisions more agonizing than figuring out which coast will better suit their pursuit of an acting career. 

And the more people you ask, the less certain you become.

Ultimately, you have to decide where you think you have the best chance of fulfilling your goals as an actor. Of course, it never hurts to be diligent in your research.

Here’s my take on the pros and cons of each market:

New York pros:

It’s New York! One of the most vibrant and unique cities on the planet. There’s an endless stream of inspiration to draw from.

New York is populated by millions of ambitious people who come to be the best in their chosen fields. Complacency is not an option in this town, which can motivate you in positive ways.

Opportunities to hone your craft are easy to find. There’s always a reading, workshop, play, or student film happening somewhere in the city.

New York is still the mecca of theater. Well beyond the bright lights of Broadway are hungry artists telling bold and compelling stories in dimly lit black box theaters and makeshift artist spaces.

The densely populated metropolis makes building creative alliances easier; community is already all around you.

New York cons:

This place ain’t cheap, which can make hanging your hat in the Big Apple a doozy. As remarkable a city as New York is, everything is tougher: the weather, the breakneck pace of daily life, and the cost of living.

There are several episodic series and films shot in New York every year but remember: it’s still a theater town. If your sole focus is television or film, New York may not be your best bet.

Depending on your goals, you may start to feel the industry in New York has a ceiling. One can only appear on “Law & Order” so many times. And though there are pilots regularly filmed here, the limited number of productions means there’s less opportunity.

Los Angeles pros:

New York pales in comparison to the amount of TV and film being shot in L.A. If the silver screen is your first love, Los Angeles will likely be your next mailing address.

A far more interesting city than it gets credit for, Los Angeles is a wildly diverse and stimulating place with a great deal to offer well beyond casting calls. And contrary to what many people believe, there are some respectable and interesting theaters in and around town like the Red Cat and Pasadena Playhouse.

Sunshine and beautiful beaches may not seem like a hard sell but the atmosphere can lend itself to a healthier mindset. Make no mistake: you must work hard in Los Angeles but the town’s temperament, if used sensibly, can contribute to living a more well-rounded and grounded lifestyle.

You can’t turn a corner without running into an actor, writer, or producer (or at least someone who claims to be), which can make collaboration easy. Just make sure you surround yourself with a tribe of like-minded, productive, and focused people.

Los Angeles is home to some of the top film schools in the world. Many of these promising students go on to do big things but before their Oscar acceptance speeches, they shoot lots of films. Films need actors. You’re an actor. See where this is going?

Los Angeles cons:

Community. There’s that word again. Simply put, you need a car in L.A. I suggest a list of great audiobooks and a very comfortable driver’s seat because the two of you are going to become fast friends. Community exists, but unlike New York, it’s up to you to seek it out.

Because Los Angeles is so spread out, it means your auditions will be as well. I’ve had auditions in Culver City, West Hollywood, and even Brentwood. Unlike New York where many of your auditions are often within a seven or eight block radius, you’ll need to allow yourself more time than you think to get to each audition.

There are a lot more projects being shot in Los Angeles, but there are also a lot more actors. A simple breakdown for say, a co-star role can literally receive thousands of submissions. It can be a grind to cut through the noise unless you have a top-tier agency.

Even then, it’s no guarantee you’ll be seen.

It’s a lot to consider, but try not to get discouraged. I suggest giving some serious thought to the type of work you want to pursue as an actor. 

If it’s the theater that beckons, New York is your town. 

If your dream is to work with J.J. Abrams, Los Angeles is probably your best option.

Most importantly, consider the quality of life you want to have when you’re not bouncing from one audition to the next. 

Where you call home significantly impacts the way you approach your career. 

As simple as it sounds, live and work where you think you’ll be happiest.

                  *** This article was previously published for Backstage Magazine

Love Losing

Without a doubt, the greatest gift being an actor has given me is having zero fear of losing. And as hokey as it sounds, learning to sidestep failure and continue to push towards your aspirations is essential.

What I discovered in an industry where you’re told “No,” virtually 99 % of the time, is that failure isn’t a testament to your character, self-worth, or an accurate indicator of your talent. It’s just feedback – a way to assess where you’re at and where you need to be.

But the most important takeaway was that failure wasn’t my problem, my reaction to it was. Being told, “No, Maybe next time,” or “We’re going to pass,” used to put me in a tailspin. But the older I got the more I learned to take it in stride and incorporate those setbacks as integral parts of the longer journey.

Always Have a Point of View

There were two types of people who'd walk into an audition room. There was the actor who'd read the part the way he or she perceived the casting director wanted the part to be read. The choices were often indistinguishable from the actor who'd auditioned for the exact same part just a moment before.

Then there was the actor who came in and made bold choices; someone who had a distinct point of view and wasn't afraid to claim the time and space they needed to tell the story on the page in their own unique way.

The actor who made bold choices didn't necessarily get the part, but unlike the actor who made stale and obvious choices, the former left an impression with the casting director. They stayed on the "mental rolodex" of the CD and it wasn't uncommon for them to receive a phone call down the line for a part they'd be great for.

I learned the importance of having a point of view and not just following the crowd. I learned to trust I had something worth saying and if I believed in the essence of my message there'd be others who would as well.

The 4 Truths of Creating Your Own Opportunities

As a young actor fresh out of drama school, I was convinced it would only be a matter of time before I took Broadway by storm. All I had to do was outhustle the competition. But it didn’t take long before I realized talent and hard work aren’t enough to thrive in this industry or any other. There are many variables beyond my control that can pull my focus from what I could actually leverage.

As I transitioned from actor to entrepreneur, I was surprised to discover the entertainment industry had prepared me for my new venture. Being an actor is not so different from running a business after all—the product just happens to be the artist. In time, I improved my ability to target what was within my power, leading to what I call the four truths of creating your own opportunities.

1. Take action.

For years I would wait for the phone to ring hoping the perfect part would fall into my lap. Eventually I realized that my story would never be told unless I wrote it. With action came an awakening to my potential.

I learned to storyboard and produce, and before I knew it, I’d become a three-dimensional storyteller. I now knew a little about a lot and wasn’t at the mercy of an industry to get my voice heard. By bulking up my skill set and taking action, I had become the captain of my ship rather than a passive tourist.

Taking initiative emboldened those around me to do the same. Together we built a community where we felt invested in one another’s success and held each other accountable to make something happen.

2. Build the right philosophy.

Before I went to college, my father told me there was no excuse for skipping class. “You can get a C just for showing up,” he said. His point was half of success in life comes from the quality of our presence.

After graduate school, I was just another struggling artist among the masses. The constant flux of emotion, of feeling I was so close to my breakthrough one minute and I should pack it all in the next, was exhausting. I often struggled to sustain the right philosophy when it came to pursuing my long-held dream.

Then, in the winter of 2010, I began working with an acting teacher who changed my life. His lessons transcended the stage and profoundly influenced the person I would become.

My mentor Andy was a storyteller just like me, but he had started late in the game. He auditioned steadily for 15 years before landing a series regular role on one of TV’s most popular shows. Instead of getting discouraged by his early setbacks, he chose to double down and improve his craft.

His example taught me that we get to choose how we show up in life and that the quality of our contributions begins with the quality of our energy. He never allowed his talent to collect dust, choosing instead to stay ready for whatever opportunities might come his way. Perhaps the most important lesson I took from him was the importance of always approaching life as if you’re just getting started.

3. Avoid toxic people.

Many years ago I was sitting in a busy coffee shop when a woman asked if she could sit in the empty chair opposite me. “Sure,” I said. After a few moments we struck up a conversation when she asked, “What do you do?” At that point, I was just a few months out of drama school and excited to share my profession with anyone who cared to know. “I’m an actor,” I beamed. She shot me a skeptical glance before falling into a cackling laugh. “How’s that working out for you?” she asked. I probably should have told her the seat was taken.

The point is it’s really easy to be cynical. Anybody can find reasons to complain or criticize. Choosing to focus on possibilities takes a unique type of courage. Your life is flying by. Don’t waste another second with people who refuse to get out of their own way and want to take you down with them.

In time, your life will begin to mirror the people you spend the most time with, so pick your brain trust wisely and share your ambitions with only with like-minded people who support your vision. We don’t have to share our dreams with everybody.

4. Find flow instead of building muscle.

Today our culture is bombarded with words like “grind” and “hustle.” I love the idea of encouraging hard work and personal accountability. But if we’re not clear on how to work hard, it can come at a great cost.

As a young acting student, I’d arrive at the theater each morning at 5:30 a.m. Nothing gave me greater delight than being the first to write my name on the sign-in sheet. I worked hard and reaped many rewards from my dogged determination. But it also came at a great cost. I chose competition over community, solitude over camaraderie, and though I was prosperous in improving my technique as an artist, I was bankrupt in the arenas of my life that really matter. Family, friends and service to others were playing supporting roles when they should have been the stars all along. I spent years pushing very hard on a door that read, “Pull.”

You must work incredibly hard toward your goals, but you can do so without having to “muscle” through life. We don’t have to bulldoze our way to the top. We can learn to flow like a stream racing through a valley. It moves quietly above, around or below its obstacles, reaching its destination by working in harmony with its surroundings.

When we work in unity with others who share our values and core principles, we reach our target together, while lifting one another up and having a lot more fun along the way. 

How Your Hustle Can Hurt You

Today, there is a prevailing theme of “hustle” being promoted in our culture. Social media is flooded with words like “grind,” and “crushing it.” As a young drama student, I’d arrive at the theater each morning at 5:30 am. For 10 blocks I’d pound my chest with clenched fists roaring, “Come on! You either want it or you don’t!” I was convinced with my dogged determination and work ethic it would only be a matter of time before I took Broadway by storm. And though there’s no substitute for a focused commitment towards our goals, I soon learned if we’re not clear on what we’re working to achieve, all the hustle in the world won’t mean a thing.

The trouble is, the grind is alluring. There’s nothing quite like the satisfaction you get from plopping down on the couch after a long day knowing you gave it everything you had. For years, nothing gave me greater joy than being the first to sign my name on the check-in sheet at Shapiro Theater. I made certain my name was written in big easy to read letters. I’d stake my claim before tiptoeing past a sleeping guard to avoid an argument, of which there were many. “Why do you need to be here so early?!” they’d ask. “I have work to do,” I’d say. But years later I overlooked the need to take personal inventory, making sure what I was working towards was still aligned with my core beliefs. I spent years bulldozing my way to a dream I once had in the hopes my old values would somehow be resuscitated back to life. I kept hustling because I was too scared to admit I no longer knew what I wanted.

A good hustle is admirable but it doesn’t always guarantee success. Like acting, entrepreneurship is such a fiercely competitive world if your vision and sense of purpose doesn’t have chest thumping clarity your grind won’t be sustainable. Over the years, I appeared on major television shows, booked commercials, performed in big regional theaters, and acted with theater gods as a Broadway casting reader. I was slowly making progress but I’d also lost a little bounce in my step. I longed for my school days and the sense of purpose I felt while training on the 16th floor of Riverside Church. And like that view of the Hudson, my dreams felt within reach but yet so far away.

By the time I’d hit my mid-30s something wasn’t sitting right. I could no longer just bury myself in the day-to-day grind and deny I’d lost my “why,” and perhaps a little of myself along the way. I was pushing really hard on a door that read, “Pull” to get into a building I wasn’t even sure I wanted to be in anymore. My goals had changed because I had. My heart somehow knew it was being duped.

In my 12-year journey as an actor I discovered there are many rewards awaiting those who hustle, but clarity of purpose is not one of them. Blindly applying brute force may move you forward, but what good is it if you don’t know where you are, or why you’re there? Your vision must precede the grind. No amount of discipline or work ethic will persist unless your “why” stirs the ”how.”

But how does one quietly follow their “why,” while navigating through the deafening culture of hustle? First, you can choose to “flow” rather than “muscle” your way to the top. Consider a stream racing through a valley and how it never flattens the boulder in its way. Instead, it moves seamlessly above, around, or below its obstacle while still reaching its destination. There is still great momentum and effort being expended but in a way that incorporates that resistance as an integral part of the journey.

Second, the act of striving should be intentional. We can be fiercely honest with ourselves having the courage to question why we do what we do. With clarity comes an awakening to our potential and our actions have a remarkable way of organizing around our defined purpose.

Finally, “the hustle” can be inclusive. Instead of looking at people as problems we can look at them as opportunities to build community. The most fulfilling part of working towards any meaningful endeavor is through the transformational relationships we forge. When we lift each other up rather than leave them behind, attainment of our goals becomes about creating impact instead of self-importance.

So grind away my friends. Wake up at that ungodly hour, bid happy hour farewell, and tell Frank Underwood he’ll have to wait. You’ve got work to do. Just make sure you’re pushing on a door to get into the right building.

The Worst they Can Say is, "No." So who cares?

Learning to endure failure is critical. When you build that muscle you are honing an even more important one: resiliency. The capacity to bounce back from setback after setback after setback is integral part of any meaningful endeavor. But far more importantly, when you reframe failure as deferred success you begin to take setbacks in stride and use them as building blocks to greater character.

My first screenplays were so bad my friends didn't even know where to begin with their feedback. My first attempt at getting a literary agent was met by well over 100 rejections. And my short films were passed on by so many festivals I lost count. But I didn't stop. I kept writing blogs, articles, screenplays, one-man shows, and even a book. And in time as I developed my voice my confidence grew convincing me I had something of value to offer. 

If there's anything I learned as an actor and a casting reader it's that the worst anyone can say is, "No." But once you hear a few, "No's" you learn to take it all in stride. It's a masterful craft if you think about it: 

Developing the mental mindset and stamina to not take the most personal form of rejection personally. 

If you can hone that skill there's nothing you won't try.

It's Not Your Problem

The world of an artist has long been associated with adversity. Ask any actor, writer, singer, painter, or dancer how they embellish their latest artistic endeavors to keep the patience of their parents at bay, and you are certain to get some creative stories. Let's face it, being an actor is hard. In addition to the struggles around finding work there is often the need to fend off not only your own doubts but the ones from friends and family who question the validity of your dreams. 

I recognize how fortunate I've been in cultivating a circle of friends who are wildly supportive. They recognize my victories and on occasion voice their admiration. It's not necessary but it' sure is nice to hear from time to time. 

Still, there is a small percentage of people in my life who simply don't get what I'm trying to do. Never have. Never will. Sitting in a cafe for an hour and half to work on a screenplay, or spending a few hours polishing a monologue in a drab black box theater doesn't make much sense to them. It can be hurtful because we naturally want the people closest to us to appreciate our passion - our calling.

But the older I get the more I've learned to lean on those who support and not share my dreams with those who don't. Admittedly, this can be a tricky balance since the latter can come in the form of dear friends, or even family. What I've learned is this:

-- No matter what you do with your life there will never be a consensus that it's time well spent. Even the most conventional paths have doubters as do the folks we associate most with fame, money, and success. We shouldn't judge what we don't understand, but we do. As a result, if you're around a community of people who critique for that reason it's time to find a new one.

-- Second, and most importantly, if someone doesn't appreciate or understand your need to write, paint, dance, act, sing, sculpt, or create IT'S NOT YOUR PROBLEM. It's not your job to be a molder of consensus but to be a master craftsman and share your gifts with those who appreciate them. Doing anything for validation is a no-win game. It's never-ending, unfulfilling, and impossible to sustain. 

Own YOUR path. 

Be selective with those you share your aspirations with. 

And remember, it's not you that's got the problem. 

You Get What You Tolerate

The opportunities you get in your life will organize around the standards you set for yourself. This took me a little time to figure out.

One area in my life where I needed a little fine tuning was as an actor. When I graduated from drama school I was chomping at the bit to take Broadway by storm. I was so earnest in my desire to grace the stages of the Barrymore and Schubert theaters I overlooked what I was willing to tolerate in order to get there.

In time, my relationship to the industry evolved. I started to place greater emphasis on living a well-rounded life than finding the perfect agent. To me this also meant traveling, volunteering, reading widely, taking bold risks, and honoring my core values.

By the time I arrived in Los Angeles I was quite comfortable in my own skin. I took things less personally and realized there was more to life than getting the perfect headshot. Though it was still my goal to be a professional storyteller, I realized you can want something without needing it. This all led to a healthy outlook on the types of roles I was willing to audition for and what I wasn't willing to compromise on en route to a dream I'd had since I was 11 years old. So when my new agent in Tinsel Town asked me in a rather lengthy questionnaire what I was not willing to do for a role, here's what I said:

I won’t compromise my personal ethics, morals, or core principles. I also will not perpetuate what I perceive to be ethnic stereotypes, or undermine my ethnic heritage.  (i.e. the butt of a one-liner Asian joke in a sitcom, etc.) Also happy to elaborate if there any questions.  Fortunately, it’s never really been an issue.  I really appreciate you asking!

Figure out what you stand for and protect it all costs. You get what you tolerate. 

You Can Want Something Without Needing It

Years ago during pilot season I auditioned for a role for what seemed like a promising little series. The storyline didn't exactly grab me but I thought it'd be fun and so I prepared carefully like I always do. I hopped on a train headed for the Court Street-Borough Hall station before making my way up to the 3rd floor for the audition.

The room was sparse and the casting director looked exhausted. I could tell he'd been trying to cast the show for quite some time. He made a quip or two about the script before filming the scene. "Nice job," he said afterwards. I left and forgot about the whole thing.

A few days later I received a callback. Really? I thought. Though I'd put my best foot forward I'd convinced myself I was totally wrong for the part, which actually liberated me. I was free to make bold choices, there was an ease to my performance, and because I was sure the part would go to someone else I was incredibly relaxed. I should mention I also had fun.

I returned a few days later but this time the stakes felt raised. I felt closer. Still, I tried to remember the approach that got me here in the first place. It wasn't ambivalence, but the ability to want something without needing it. Once again I was loose, free, and able to have fun with the part. A few weeks later I booked the role.

Not surprisingly, I've booked several other roles when I was able to audition like I didn't need it. I absolutely wanted the parts, but I knew my life would go on if I didn't get cast. 

As both an actor and a casting reader I learned those are very attractive qualities to have as an artist, and they're only cultivated through living a rich life "off-stage." 

When you have other interests, relationships, and goals to look forward to you have a unique sense of perspective that will undoubtedly serve your artistry.

What You Want Changes, and that's Okay

“To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.” Tennyson’s words are a perfect reminder of the need to constantly push ourselves beyond our comfort zone. The greater effort you put into honing your craftsmanship as an actor, entrepreneur, writer, parent, or artist of life (which we all are) the more you’ll recognize your strengths, weaknesses, and ever shifting goals. 

As a young actor barreling out of drama school I was willing to act anywhere. I performed more times than I can even remember in little black box theaters in the East Village, sometimes in front of just 5 or 10 people. And I was happy as a clam doing it. I learned so much about acting and built a community around my passion. 

Today, taking part in little staged readings and performing in off-off Broadway theaters is no longer in line with the long-term vision I have for myself. I’ve graduated to higher aspirations discovered while pushing myself. My goals have changed because I have. 

As a result, I have a better sense of what I want for my life, and equally important, what I don’t.