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.

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.

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.

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.