5 Ways to Let Go of an Audition

I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve beaten myself up over an audition that didn’t go as planned. The second I left a casting room, I’d unleash a mental peanut gallery, each voice louder than the next questioning my choices, talent, and even the shirt I was wearing. I’d stare blankly out the window of a downtown 1 train wondering what business I had trying to get paid to tell stories. 

But as I got older, something shifted inside of me and I started to surrender to all the variables out of my control. I realized there was nothing I could do about how I looked, the way I was perceived, or how “right” I was for a part. And rather than be frustrated by those realities, I chose to be liberated by them. I took solace in the realization I could want something without needing it, an insight that made me happier and the work more fulfilling.

I also decided to invest my time and energy in what I had agency over: my attitude and work ethic. As a result, I stopped taking myself so seriously and developed the ability to leave the audition in the room. Here’s how. 

1. Toss the sides. 

I learned this trick from actor Michael B. Jordan. After an audition, good or bad, he’d toss the sides so there was no visual reminder of the event. 

Don’t amble into the land of shoulda, woulda, coulda; it’s a lonely place devoid of reason or answers. Instead, cleanse yourself of regret, worry, and doubt. Give yourself a big ole’ pat on the back for showing up and putting your best foot forward.  

2. Do something completely different. 

After an audition, I’d often take a stroll or grab a cup of coffee with a good friend. Keeping the company of solid folks never goes out of style. Ring a friend and hit up a museum or wander aimlessly through Central Park. Time away from your hustle will remind you there’s more to life than impressing a casting director.

3. Support a student production. 

Back in high school, one of my best friends was a standout on the women’s soccer team. Trying to get her to talk about anything other than her love of the game was like parting the Red Sea. When we graduated, she earned a scholarship to play at a well-known Division 1 school in southern California. She was elated. But before she even had time to break in her new cleats, her passion for the game was forever tainted by her new coach, who took all the joy out of playing, eventually leading to her quitting the team.

Unfortunately, the entertainment industry can have the same effect. I’ve seen countless actors who were once madly in love with telling stories lose the bounce in their step by the need to self-promote and think in terms of revenue.

So go back and check out a student or community production. See the bliss that emanates from actors who need to be dragged off stage. Let them remind you of why you fell in love with the theater in the first place. Then cling to that feeling and protect it at all costs.

4. Volunteer. 

One of the best ways to stop dwelling on your worries is to lessen those of others. 

When you’re of service to your community, you gradually develop a clearer sense of the big picture, which can get fuzzy in our day-to-day lives. Lend a hand at a shelter or sign-up to be a tutor. There are plenty of people who could benefit from what you already know.

5. Focus on what you already have. 

Before you stick your head in the sand over an audition that went south, take a moment to realize you had the opportunity to showcase your work.

As a young actor, I was so caught up in advancing my career that I rarely took the time to appreciate my great fortune. I was dashing through the greatest city in the world reading for television, theater, and film. Had you told me I’d be doing as much five years earlier I would have questioned your sanity.

Your career may not be taking shape exactly the way you thought it would but getting the chance to pursue what you love means you’re living on rare air. Write a note to yourself and tape it to your mirror or -it, set a notice on your touchscreen. Do whatever you need to do to remind yourself you're already living the dream.

Previously published for Backstage Magazine: https://www.backstage.com/advice-for-actors/backstage-experts/5-ways-let-go-audition/

The Man Who Flipped Everything I Knew About Hustle On It's Head

One cold winter morning I met a man who’d flip everything I knew about hustling on it’s head. For the next several years he schooled me on the importance of living a life and not just a career. 

Every morning, come rain, sleet, or snow he’d hop on the Metro North from his home in Connecticut and commute to mid-town Manhattan. For the next 10 hours he’d audition, teach, or take classes.  Just before his late foray into acting he abandoned the peace of mind that comes from supporting a family on a well-paying and steady job.

Each time he saw me get worked up over a blown audition or complain about not seeing the fruits of my labor realized he’d remind me there was more to life than being on Law & Order. He taught me you can want something without needing it; a realization that not only liberated me but also made the work more enjoyable. Not surprisingly, the minute I stopped trying to bulldoze my way to my dreams I started to book more work. 

Over the years I saw countless plays in New York. Broadway giants like Frank Langella and Tracie Bennett left me in awe, inspiring me to push the envelope in my own work. Still, their performances paled in comparison to how this man lived his life off-stage. He beamed when he spoke about his children, took the work seriously but never himself, and always responded that he was, “awesome,” when asked about his wellbeing. But the greatest lesson he imparted was being satisfied while striving towards your dreams wasn’t a form of complacency. It simply meant joy couldn’t be postponed for some professional achievement.

A More Nuanced Look at Hollywood's Diversity Problem

One evening as I was walking home after an audition, I glanced up at an advertisement on the corner of 42nd and 8th Avenue, one block away from Times Square. The giant signboard was covered with TV’s most familiar faces, all gearing up for their fall seasons. As I gazed back to the street below I took in a much more varied and eclectic scene. There were people of all colors, faiths, and sizes dashing from one place to the next, mingling in a world in complete contrast with the billboard just two stories above.

As a young drama student, I got a glimpse of what a community of diverse storytelling could look like. Having a mother from Seoul, Korea and an Italian-American father from Brooklyn didn’t limit me from feeling the conflict facing Torvald, the joy of performing Pinter, or blissfully losing myself in a Shakespeare sonnet. Perhaps the most poignant lesson in all my years of training was that nobody has a monopoly on the human condition.

But when I embarked on my professional career, I soon discovered that sentiment was not shared in the industry. “When I listen to the words it sounds great but then when I look at you, it doesn’t fit,” a casting director once told me. “You have a great look, but you’re going to have a really tough time getting work,” another said. I took their words in stride determined to prove them wrong. I would be different, I thought.

Still, I longed to see someone who looked like me grace the cover of “The Hollywood Reporter,” or sitting opposite James Lipton on “Inside the Actors Studio.” I never wanted a handout or sympathy; I simply wanted for an unfair industry to be equally unfair. I found myself fueled by a quiet rage. I began to take pride in my struggle, even sporting it like a badge of honor. But thankfully, my attitude evolved because I had. Carrying all that frustration around simply wasn’t productive.

It seems we’re at a fever pitch with the diversity in Hollywood issue. There have been countless articles, speeches, and movements highlighting the importance of giving storytellers of all backgrounds a chance to share their unique voice. It’s safe to say that most agree it’s time for a change. But within that consensus, we may have involuntarily made other actors, with equally big dreams and who don’t check the “other” box, feel alienated or worse, threatened. And it’s very difficult to build community when we don’t all feel welcome. As far as I can see, there are three steps we can take to put our best foot forward in an industry slow to catch up with the times.

1. Focus on our commonalities. 
If there’s one thing I’ve learned as an actor it’s that nobody wants to hear why something really hard is harder for you. Rather than amplifying our own setbacks, we can all focus on our shared bond as storytellers by supporting each individual’s desire to create. By letting go of the notion that success needs to come at the expense of another’s failure, we can work toward availability rather than defensiveness. And when we operate from a place of abundance, ideas flow more freely and our potential is awakened. Our current national landscape is craving unity. We as actors have a unique opportunity to bridge divides by telling bold, compelling, and inclusive stories.  

    

2. Compassion. 
Empathy is the capacity to understand another’s feelings while compassion is concern for someone’s hardship. You may not understand what it’s like to be overlooked for a part because of the shape of your eyes or color of your skin, but you can appreciate how hurtful it can be. Conversely, just because someone may not face those same hurdles doesn’t make them the bad guy or their aspirations less important. Together we can take joy in each other’s success and support one another’s artistic goals.

3. Focus on opportunity.
If you’re tired of not seeing your story told, write it yourself. Some of the greatest innovations were fueled by the drive to solve a problem. Change is unsettling for most and takes time. In the meantime, it’s our responsibility to condition ourselves to think, “So what? Now what? Opportunity favors those who take bold initiative amidst adversity and a landscape that may be less than impartial.

You're in Good Company

As a casting reader I had the good fortune of performing opposite A-list movie stars and Tony-Award Winning actors. There were times I had to pinch myself as I read opposite actors I’d long admired.

Surprisingly, the most poignant lesson I took away was not about acting at all. What I discovered was no matter how successful the storyteller, nobody is beyond getting a little nervous.

Pre-show jitters are an integral part of this industry whoever you are. The only difference is these particular actors didn’t let it stop them from sharing their voice or claiming the real estate they needed to deliver their best audition.

Remember, your challenges don’t suddenly dissipate the higher you rise. You simply trade your old problems for a set of new ones.

So if you get a little nervous before the words, “Whenever you’re ready,” rest assured you’re in good company.

Speed Up Your Recovery Time

The single greatest gift being an actor has given me is teaching me to have absolutely zero fear of failure. I wish everyone could be in the entertainment industry for this reason alone. Unfortunately, I still see far too many people crippled by the thought of failure to even begin. 

Strange as it may sound, getting good at failure, or rather accepting failure, is like any endeavor. The more you practice the better you get at it. In time, you'll learn to appreciate that failure is an integral part of success and both need one another in order to exist. 

So how do you get better at accepting failure? Simple. Constantly put yourself out there. Whether you want to ask someone out, submit a film to a festival, or audition for a play you don't seem "right" for it takes a sustained effort.

Once you hear the word, "no" enough times something remarkable slowly takes shape. You stop taking it personally. Instead, you take failure in stride, and most importantly, move on to the next best thing. 

With enough practice the time between each setback and moving forward speeds up, you take less time to dust yourself off, return from your hibernation, and just keep moving. 

So fail fast. Fail often. And get back up quicker and quicker each time. 

Start Before You're Ready

Several years ago a friend was helping me prepare for an audition. She saw that I'd spent considerable time working on the piece and as a result had started to over-think the scene.

"Start just before you're ready," she said to me. What does she mean? I thought. It actually took me a few years to fully appreciate the power of her message.

We often spend a great deal of time consuming information for how to become a better actor, artist, or partner. There are countless resources out there on how to start a business, or write a book. But if we're not careful we can get bogged down with all the information and not take action - "Paralysis through Analysis."

Instead of waiting to launch your business before you have the perfect product, or begin an audition, speech, or important conversation when you feel it'll go precisely has rehearsed, try pushing yourself to adopt the notion that knowledge is only effective if it is accompanied by action. And that action can happen now. 

There are always steps you can take to incrementally get you to where you want to be. Start by starting.

Want but Don't Need

In Oren Klaff’s book, Pitch Anything, he talks about the importance of eradicating neediness:

“If you talk to investment bankers, the pros that make million dollar decisions almost daily, they’ll tell you – validation – seeking behavior (neediness) is the number one deal killer.”

As a young actor, I must have reeked of desperation as I entered casting rooms. When I first came out of grad school my life seemed to hang in the balance depending on how well an audition went. I spent hours prepping, regardless if the audition was for a series regular or two lines on a procedural. I was maniacal about my homework. And if the audition didn’t go exactly as I planned I was devastated. I placed such high stakes on each and every audition that my nerves were often a mess.

But the older I got the more I realized the importance of wanting, but not needing. I learned to give my best audition then go about my day knowing if it didn't work out there’d be plenty of other people who’d love to work with me. Developing this mindset came from living a well-rounded life full of other interests, rich relationships, and an empowering sense of self.

Don't Forget to Be a Person

Years ago I was taking an acting on-camera class with a popular instructor in New York. "Ever had the experience of prepping for an audition with a friend, or partner who isn't an actor?" he asked. "Doesn't it drive you crazy when you've been struggling to understand a scene and they come along and get it instantly?" The entire class nodded, taking solace in the fact we'd all felt the same way at one time or another.

"Do you want to know why that is?" he finally said. "It's because they're looking at the scene as a human being and not an actor."

It was true. I'd picked up some great tools in drama school, but in getting bogged down with "obstacles," and "objectives," and "high stakes," I'd lost the all important ability to use my imagination and simply ask myself, "What would I do in this situation?"

Hone your skills as an actor but don't forget to look at the work as a person.

Leave the Audition in the Room

If there's one technique that has likely put years back on my life it's learning to leave the audition in the room.

As a young actor, I'd spend hours and hours working on a pair of sides in preparation for an audition. It didn't matter if the role was for a series regular or an under-5, I wanted to be the best prepared actor to walk in the room.

And though I'm still a huge advocate of working diligently, one must also have the flexibility to not carry the audition with you for the rest of the day.

If the audition didn't go what Robert DeNiro calls, "bedroom perfect," meaning the way I'd prepped at home, then I'd ruminate for hours on ways I could have done it differently. My "Monday morning quarterbacking" wasn't only frustrating but totally unproductive.

Instead, I learned to give it my all once I was in the room and completely relinquish control once I left. There was a freedom in making this decision - in surrendering to the many variables out of my control. All I concerned myself with was my attitude and work ethic.

I later discovered as a casting reader that actors who focus on these two components and have other important interests in their life are appealing to work with. It's like saying, "I would absolutely love to book the role, but if I don't, I'll be just fine. Some other lucky casting director will surely scoop me up."

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.

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."

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.

Master Class

For many years in New York I worked as a casting reader. The projects varied in scope, but invariably I'd be called in to help out with projects every actor dreams of - large-scale Broadway productions reading opposite giants of the theater and occasionally silver screen.

Friends would often pepper me with questions about what so-and-so was like, or what the secret to a great audition was. But mostly, they wanted to know about the career and lives of the stars.

My observations and insights seldom led up to expectation, but I was telling the truth. "They're just people," I'd say. "They get just as nervous before an audition as you or me." But perhaps the most valuable lesson I took away was that you never not have challenges. As you steadily rise higher in your career, you simply trade your old issues for a new set of ones.

A Strange Thing Happened...

A few years after drama school I began to feel a sense of emptiness. I questioned my work as an actor, even its meaning - two events that had never occurred. Telling stories was all I cared to do since I was a little boy. What did it all mean? I wondered. Who was this all for? Why should the world care? 

Like many young actors, I was idealistic and thought I could change the world with a monologue, or a compelling scene. It was why I wanted to be an actor in the first place; to make some small dent in society by influencing or changing the way one thought.

As I seemed to drift further and further away from this disposition, I found myself willing myself to fall back in love with acting. It sounds strange, but I even resented myself for not wanting to do it. After all, I'd worked so hard to get through a conservatory and made sacrifices to give this dream a real go.

In time, I discovered this hollowness was a result of focusing too much on myself. It was all about me. I was tired of hearing my own voice.

Then I decided to volunteer in my community. First, as a mentor at a high school in Queens. Soon after, I was giving resume workshops at Coalition for the Homeless, making beds at a shelter, and delivering speeches on public speaking. A few years later I was doing similar work in South Africa, Nepal, and Haiti.

When I returned I felt rejuvenated. Service to others had also given me perspective on the bigger picture. I no longer lived and died on each audition. And the funny thing is, I actually became a better actor. Go figure.