Pursue Your Dreams Wholeheartedly (but learn a marketable skill)

At 25 I packed my things and set for the land my father swore he’d never return to: New York City. For the next 3 years I studied under theater giants, eating, breathing, and sleeping the craft of acting.

The dream to become a professional storyteller had finally begun.

I’d pound on my chest for 10 blocks with clenched fists on the way to school, roaring at the top my lungs, “Come on! You either want it or you don’t!” I’d flip on the lights to that beautiful black box theater dreaming of all the stories I planned to one day tell.

There was no place on earth I’d have rather been.

But just a few years later the grind of trying to become a working actor started to wear on me. I had no delusions about entering the most competitive industry on the planet, but like most things in life you don’t really know until you know.

Only it wasn’t just the fiercely tough world of show business that started to dissuade me but a change of heart. Like autumn gradually giving way to winter, the glow I once felt about performing seemed to dim.

Without telling me, what I valued most in life started to shift.

By the time I hit my mid-30s I decided I wanted to help empower the careers of other actors and artists rather than simply promote my own.

The trouble was I had no discernible abilities to do so. Yes, I was a strong public speaker, a decent writer, and according to most people who knew me a “pretty inspiring guy,” but I soon discovered talent doesn’t pay the bills.

Skills do.

Though it’s unlikely my younger self would have given me the time of day to offer an insight or two I’d have done my best to tell him to pursue his dreams whole-heartedly, while actively acquiring a marketable skill set for the work force.

And though one should never stop learning, I can’t think of much I wouldn’t give to have been able to hit the ground running in my current entrepreneurial endeavor.

Knowing how to code, copyright, effectively market content, or even build a mailing list would have done wonders at the outset for both my confidence and brand. Having any one of those skills would have also allowed me to seamlessly adapt the abilities I already had without losing much time.

I am incredibly proud of my journey as an actor and what I was able to accomplish in the least meritocratic industry in the world, but if I’m honest my hustle came with a cost.

When I returned to the San Francisco Bay Area after living in New York City for nearly 11 years the opportunities available to me in the work force were very limited. I made inquiries to just about every university, college, and high school in the area with the hope they had an opening for an aging actor.

None did.

I soon learned the position I was seeking was a coveted one. So much so, no one ever seemed to leave. As result, it didn’t matter how much talent or insight I had to offer.

I had to find another way to make myself useful.

The notion you must throw caution to the wind in pursuit of a dream is not only inaccurate but can be cavalier.

One can be bold but not reckless.

Go after what it is you want while building up your arsenal of value. Learning indispensable skills will make you an infinitely more competitive force.

Finally, the peace of mind you’ll gain knowing how adaptable you are will also offer enormous confidence regardless of what path you ultimately decide to take.

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.

The Beauty of Having Doubts

Doubt is an unavoidable part of a rich life.  But there's also an important distinction between having uncertainties about your career, and wanting to do something completely different with your life. The distinction is not always clear. If your deepest core still believes your dream is important then fight like hell for it. Conversely, if your heart is trying to tell you that it’s time for a new journey, I encourage you not to deny that calling. Doing so might mean closing yourself off to new and worthwhile opportunities, which may add great value to the lives of others. Remember, doubt can be an opportunity to redefine your ambitions, or recalibrate your current ones.

You can also reinvent the role art plays in your life. For example, when acting began to slowly take a less prominent role in my life I turned to other outlets such as writing and coming up with creative solutions to problems in my community. Both were forms of artistry that allowed me to express myself in equally meaningful ways. Moving on to new endeavors is less of a farewell then a different way of expressing your imagination.  Remember what Peggy Taylor said, “Creativity is not found just in the chosen few who exhibit artistic talent. 

 

Gratitude

One of the hardest humps for an artist to get over is not having the interest or following from others you hoped for. You feel as though you have so much to share with the world you might burst. 

If you can slightly alter the lens through which you view success and instead focus on gratitude you will gradually notice a shift in your life. Try having gratitude for:

-- having a voice
-- knowing what you want to do with your life
-- your talent
-- your creativity
-- your belief in what you do
-- your commitment to growth

And the remarkable potential your art has to change the world in some small way.

Plenty of Talent

Last night I went to see a friend perform a few songs in an old bar in an equally old hotel on the corner of a quiet street.

I arrived on time without much fanfare and was immediately greeted by my friend's boyfriend and the doorman. One said hello and embraced me with a hug, while the other promptly asked for $8.

I watched all three acts that night in a cramped little room that reminded me of the many black box theaters I  once performed in, nestled between nondescript bars and corner markets in the East Village.

Each musician was unique, talented, and a real joy to listen to. I was glad I'd made the trek even if it was 8:00 pm on a Sunday night.

During one of the performances, it dawned on me that at a certain point there's little distinction between many of those who supposedly "make it," in the entertainment industry.

I would have had no qualms about stumbling across any one of their songs on the radio, or playing in a coffee shop. They were great.

Still, these musicians would likely argue they hadn't yet reached the success they hoped for.

I suppose once can take great solace in knowing that talent in this world is not in short supply.

Grit Versus Talent

Yesterday, I picked up a book called, Grit: The Power of Passion and Perseverance. The book is by Angela Duckworth, a MacArthur Fellow and professor of psychology at the University of Pennsylvania. I was first introduced to her work in a TED Talk I saw several months ago on the very same topic:

https://www.ted.com/talks/angela_lee_duckworth_grit_the_power_of_passion_and_perseverance?language=en

The book talks about our fascination with talent and how we often assume having innate gifts is enough to reach our highest ambitions. It turns out, grit often often trumps talent. In fact, having talent is not only enough, but it is not necessarily a guarantee that one will have grit.

Ms. Duckworth goes on to list several examples of students, members of the armed services, and athletes who may not have been the most naturally gifted, but possessed a ferocious sense of fortitude.

"First, these exemplars were unusually resilient and hardworking. Second, they knew in a very, very deep way what it was they wanted. They not only had determination, they had direction.

The book is full of compelling discoveries and anecdotes that are both inspiring and backed by years of research. It's a book I highly suggest picking up if you get the chance. It might just put an extra bounce in your step.

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.