Don't Do Too Much

There's a famous story about the day Jack Lemmon received a master class in acting for the camera by director Billy Wilder. The two were on the set for the classic film, Some Like it Hot starring Marilyn Monroe. At this point, Jack Lemmon had done a considerable amount of theater and television but was still relatively new to the world of feature films.

As the story goes Lemmon was in the middle of a scene when Wilder stopped him. "Less Jack. Less," he said. Lemmon supposedly took the note and resumed the scene. A few minutes go by and Lemmon feels like he's really cooking when once again he's stopped by the Academy Award winning director. "Less Jack. Less." Lemmon scratched his head, took the note again, and continued to plow along. The scene goes on for a while before Wilder stops him for a third time, "Less Jack. Less." At this point Lemmon's had it and screams, "Billy, if I do any less I'll be doing nothing." Wilder supposedly smiled before saying, "Exactly."

Too often we feel we're not enough when the truth is we're infinitely interesting. The key whether on stage or off is to trust we have a voice and something of value to offer without overcompensating for what we mistake to be deficiencies. 

Not About Likes

We all want to be liked, followed, or accepted. It's part of the wiring for our survival. But when it comes to creating meaningful work on a canvas, stage, or in front of a camera the truth is we have little to no control over how it will be accepted by others.

The key is to do the work for YOU. If the work isn't personally worthwhile you'll have a tough time weathering the dislikes, or when people pay no mind at all.

Instead of tallying up the number of followers you get, or the counting the number of views, or likes, take pride in starting and finishing something that was important to you.

Steal from Life

German Writer Johann Wolfgang von Goethe once said, "We are shaped and fashioned by what we love." The trouble is many of us don't believe what we love would be very interesting to others. 

I remember taking an acting on camera class many years ago when the teacher made the observation many of the actors in the room were simply "doing too much." In his words, we had a hard time believing that we alone were enough. 

What he wanted us to understand was that everyone has something compelling to say or share. It's just a matter of trusting that our unique experiences and take on the world will resonate with others. 

If your voice is coming from an honest and genuine place, chances are, it will.

There's Nothing Wrong with You

When I was a young actor in drama school there was NOTHING I could see myself doing other than telling stories the rest of my life. I was convinced I'd change the world over with a compelling monologue or screen performance.

As I got older, I began to feel a sense of doubt, a shift in what I valued. I still loved acting, but it occurred to me there were also passions, pursuits, and people worth my time that had nothing to do with a camera or stage.

Of course, at first this was alarming. I felt as though my heart and conscience had betrayed me. I'd spent years and years honing a craft, reading hundreds of plays and screenplays, and carved out a nice little identity as a "serious actor." What would happen to those efforts? That sense of being? If I wasn't an actor then who was I exactly?

What I discovered is that we are all many things. Being an actor didn't define me. I was also a son, a brother, a friend, a traveler, and citizen of the world. And I didn't have to abandon my love of acting just because it may not always be my sole focal point. 

As a result, I allowed other opportunities to come into my life, which infused my being with a deeper understanding of self and even made me a better actor.

Don't freak out if the things you want change over time. There's nothing wrong with you. Promise.

You're growing and allowing yourself to flow with the inevitable force known as change rather than resisting it and the possibilities it may bring.

Protect You Dream

Saturday mornings have seldom, if ever, been a day of idleness in my life. And today was no exception. I left the house just before 8:00 am and headed over to San Francisco, grinning from ear to ear as I crossed a nearly empty Bay Bridge. My friend Julie was hoping to get together so we could catch up after several months apart. She also wanted me to see her son, who somehow, was already two years old.

As the three of us constructed Lego cities and pushed trains along a windy track, we talked about what people tend to talk about: work, family, and the future. Julie was one of the most successful people I knew. She'd attended Ivy League schools, was thriving at her law practice, and married an ideal partner. And now, she also had a beautiful son.

Despite all of that, she confessed to still feeling a certain level of angst and judgement from her parents about what she could be doing better; a confession that completely confounded me. What could they possibly have to gripe about? I thought.

I then began to think about my own life and the many friends I had back in New York and Los Angeles; actors that had experienced the same protests for pursuing unstable and profoundly difficult careers in the arts. Admittedly, I'd felt the same worries from my own folks from time to time. Though they were patient and supportive in many ways, they didn't fully grasp their child's desire to live life on stage, or in front of a camera.

It dawned on me that good parents, friends, and colleagues would always offer feedback, which would sometimes take the form of criticism. As earnest as someone's intentions can be, it's often just a projection of their own failures, or regrets for not chasing their own dreams.

As an artist there are countless challenges you will face, including the inevitable, and sometimes very loud call to conformity. This morning, after realizing that even conventionally successful people experience the same strain, my takeaway was this: be grateful you have people in your life who care enough about you to offer their take then hug your dream even tighter, protecting it at all costs.

You're the only one who needs to understand why you do what you do.