The Distance Is You

Within the last few months, I realized I was enduring a unique and perpetual challenge: cultivating mountains of creative energy, and desperately trying to find places to put it. Wherever it went, it had to exit my being and manifest into something tangible – or my limbs would politely explode, letting out confetti, screams, and streamers of guts filled with creamy dissatisfaction. If you’re blessed with a long-term project, you have an opportunity to learn, indulge, and experience. Involvement is an artist’s dream; inclusion is an individual’s dream. That being said, there is a level of impermanence to what we do. Our art is both actively present and inevitably fleeting. The work is never ending, and that is good and bad news. However, I do believe there is a level of dependency we have on others that can hinder creative expression. Of course, community is why art is able to flourish and heal. But, I do advise against solely waiting for opportunities to come to you. If you are willing, and begin seeking and creating independently, what you want to find will also find you – things so good you would not know how to ask for them. I do acknowledge there is a level of privilege involved with the freedom to create and seek opportunities void of others, but not I argue it’s not as inaccessible and unobtainable as one may believe. Everyone starts somewhere, and this is how I decided to start: I realized the distance between me and what I wanted to achieve was me.

When I was in 4th grade, I did a book report on Ella Fitzgerald. So, when I eventually moved to New York City, and lived minutes away from countless jazz clubs, it was safe to assume that they would soon have all of my money. After attending a few jazz sets alone, I invited one of my friends to come along with me. We got there absurdly early, because of my anxious punctuality, and we sat in the front. Whether it be because we were attractive women or that they could sense palpable enthusiasm, two men – who were a part of the band – approached us. Amidst the obligatory small talk, the man I invested the most time in was the drummer. He seemed knowledgeable and I wanted to pick his brain on how to get performance opportunities for singing. Without missing a beat, he says, “Oh, well have you been to jam sessions?” “Well, given that I don’t know what those are, no” I say but with charm and wit – of course. We exchanged Instagram’s and later that night he direct messaged me a list of a few places that had jams. We never spoke after that, but, if I ever see him again, I will thank him profusely for planting that seed. 

After that, I started going alone to Smalls Jazz Club’s Jam Sessions because they had no cover charge and a one drink minimum – which for me was a Diet Coke. I wanted to participate, but I went to a couple and only let myself watch. I studied the etiquette, the format, the people performing, the tone, the manner, and especially how the singers cued the band in. One night I decided it was do or die, and I marched my happy self down the street and went to a midnight jam. I was the youngest girl amongst a crowd of middle aged, deeply experienced professionals and/or Julliard jazz professors. I walked up to a man with goggle-like glasses – who was hosting the jam – and told him I wanted to sing. I didn’t tell him I had never done it, I didn’t tell him I didn’t know how to do it, all I told him was that I wanted to sing. I got on stage, ready to rumble, but the goggle-like-glasses-man cued my ballad in with an upbeat tempo – which, for my non-music folks, is basically making a very slow song, very fast! At that moment, though completely unplanned, I felt myself actively learning about a hundred new things, all at the same time. I learned how to adjust to a new tempo, switch between melodies, and jam with other people I had not rehearsed with before – just to name a few. After my set ended, though with a lesser quality performance than I would’ve liked, I sucked in my adrenaline tears and talked to professionals the whole night – all of whom had lots of advice to give me…and a few business cards. Though an extremely overwhelming experience from beginning to end, what mattered most was that I took the risk and did it. I went to this jam alone, nobody came with me, nobody was forcing me to do it, and yet I gained everything. Now, I go back to Smalls every once in a while to keep myself sharp (and, let’s face it, humble), but what an amazing thing to prove to oneself. It is both an excruciating pressure and incredible relief that it only requires me to create opportunities. Once one acquires this feeling, then one can begin inviting others back in. As I started this article, community and collaboration is ultimately what makes people successful, but everyone has to want it individually. This kind of drive is contagious. For example, I reached out to a few of my music friends and I started writing songs with their accompaniment. Additionally, I’m going to try and take a music production class over the summer to refine my skills. Moreover, I want to write and act in a play, so I have begun collaborating with other writers to make that happen. My next adventure will be attending a poetry slam alone – I got a lot to say.

All of this being said, I am at the very beginning of my artistic journey. I am still figuring out what I want to create. But, something I like to remind myself every once in a while is that art is meant to be shared. The more comfortable one becomes with sharing, the easier it is and the more often it happens – but you have to fight for it. 

Since I was graciously granted a list on one fateful night, here is my list, do with it what you will ;)

1. Jazz Jam Sessions; https://arthurstavern.nyc/, https://www.smallslive.com/ 

2. Poetry Slams/Open Mics; https://www.nuyorican.org/, https://www.bowerypoetry.com/

Finding Inspiration Beyond The Obvious

The art I create is a manifestation of the insecurities I choose to show; in a controlled, mildly removed, sufferingly beautiful, “more-over-it-than-I-am” kind of way. I could make art from a healed position, but I cannot deny the raw process of digging deeper, as the darkness unfolds, to be the most effective for creation. As ever changing as my experience may be, I weave my current self into what I make. My biggest inspiration comes from the things I cannot hold, love, or keep. Loss inspires me, because how else can I appreciate the fleeting?

The following excerpt is from a poem I wrote about a recent fleeting exchange:

“Even if I am aware of my nativity, 

That does not shield me from own immaturity,

As the openness I feel in my chest,

Can only be filled by the possibilities of the world.

You had to leave, 

Because the only evidence we have of something is how it makes us feel. 

This is how we believe. 

Yet, this is not how we accept.

Now, I cannot stop the days that must happen.

A falling knife has no handle,

It must hit the floor – in order to realize the ground never left.

When I have tried to interfere, 

It slowed the falling by passing through my desperate hand, 

But I cannot stop the days that must happen. 

At least,

I’ve learned it was not the knife that severed the last link of who I was to myself.

I have always felt this way.”

This experience has created lots of artistic introspection, emotional turmoil, and art allowed me to document how I truly felt during this time. This is an important process. Using art as a tool to figure out how you feel about something is what it’s there for. However, using solely your suffering to create art, can be limiting to not only your artistic potential, but your growth. 

Self-indulgence is one of my favorite past times, but it can get me stuck. I’m currently living alone, and if I write one more poem about loss, the next thing I lose will be my mind. As artists, we should kindly encourage ourselves to find inspiration beyond the obvious – pain. Not all art has to hurt. We don’t have to poke at an open wound with a paintbrush. It’s okay to focus outside of ourselves while we heal. 

I’m learning what it means to live for myself; letting things hurt, and letting them go without the need to perform it prematurely. I no longer feel the need to justify everything I do, because I know myself less than I ever have. While that is extremely daunting, I’m excited to meet myself again. 

I’ve begun meeting myself by going to jazz clubs alone. I’m meeting myself by eating peanut butter dipped in plain cheerios. I’m meeting myself by letting my hair grow naturally without burning it straight. I’m meeting myself by meeting others. I’m meeting myself by no longer making myself into what I’m not ready to be. I imagine the day I finally meet myself, and I shake her hand, that she will thank me for not only searching for inspiration in suffering, but finding appreciation in what I’ve always had – light. And when she walks away, and I have to wait to meet her again, I will move through the world with light, and let it shine through my face. 

My art may be a manifestation of my insecurities, but they are what make me shine. They are the catalyst of change.

“Sacrificing Storytellers” – My Philosophy On The Writer’s Strike

On the Hudson River Walk, there is a bench with a plaque that proposes, “Catherine, will you marry me?” – this is my favorite spot to write. I go to this bench everyday. Today, however, I did not bring my notepad. Instead, I open my once white, now yellow, Toronto skyline tote bag and reveal the book “Comfortable With Uncertainty” by Pema Chödrön. 

I reach in, fumbling past the empty bottles of purell and lipgloss, and flip to a passage titled “The Facts Of Life: Impermanence.” The section reads, “We know that all is impermanent (...) Although we can buy into this truth intellectually, emotionally we have a deep-rooted aversion to it. (...) We use our daily activities as a shield against the fundamental ambiguity of our situation, expending tremendous energy trying to ward off impermanence like death. We don’t like that our bodies change shape. We don’t like that we age. We use health products as if we actually believe that our skin, our hair, our eyes and teeth, might somehow miraculously escape the truth of impermanence. (Buddhist teachings) encourage us to relax gradually and wholeheartedly into the ordinary and obvious truth of change (...) When we do this, we begin to understand we’re not the only ones who can’t keep it all together. We no longer believe that there are people who have managed to avoid uncertainty” (14). 

I have a complicated relationship with uncertainty. As many are, I am resentful that I am no exception to its relentless dictatorship. That being said, the “shield” that I use to “ward off impermanence like death,” is storytelling – a practice I would argue is the only exception to impermanence. Dating back 30,000 years, some of the earliest evidence of stories comes from the cave drawings in Lascaux and Chavaux, France. These drawings depict animals, humans, and other objects, appearing to represent visual stories. Yes, storytelling has evolved, we no longer have to draw in caves, therefore proving elements of impermanence. But the need, the urge, the desire to capture and create “our situation” has stayed the same. This ever-changing cultivation, in an ironic way, helps us feel safer in our worldly uncertainty. Storytelling opens its arms for the collective realization that “we’re not the only ones who can’t keep it all together,” but we can still be together as we transform.

As streaming services and limited-series TV shows have transformed into the norm, the Writers Guild of America and the Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers began negotiating a new contract to address pay, residuals, and other issues to replace a three-year deal that expired May 1. Attempting to aid the divide, the WGA said it sought improvements valued at $429 million annually, while the studios offered increases valued at about $86 million. Ultimately, of the 21 WGA proposals, the Alliance for Motion Picture and Television Producers — which represents the big media and streaming companies — had agreed to only six by May 1. Therefore, an agreement was not reached, and the majority of the WGA’s membership voted to authorize a strike that began May 2nd, 2023. Chris Keyser, a co-chair of the WGA negotiating committee, stated, “We will not accept a deal that does not address ... the changes in the business that have made it impossible for writers to earn a living … we will not make a deal with them until we have protections.”

In my own life, I find the illusion of predictability in writing. Whether it’s truly there or not, I appreciate the artform allowing me to have a sense of control over a storyline to cope. Yesterday, for example, I wrote 5 poems about a situation I have no control over, and yet writing my own ending has made me feel more comfortable for whatever outcome arises. Over the course of time, as I’ve found my voice, I’ve felt inspired to share my poems with anyone who will listen. I love that writing has given me a way to articulate colorful and loud emotions, to share them, and relate to others. The stories people tell are important – they are an extension of their existence. Therefore, how dare we now be in a situation where those extensions are at stake. 

I urge all of you who consume any sort of entertainment to appreciate the length at which storytellers sacrifice themselves to bring you a sense of certainty – while they live in everything except it. If you wish for a life where we can “relax gradually and wholeheartedly into the ordinary and obvious truth of change,” proceed in solidarity and advocate for artists, so we can change for the better.

Investing In Your Inspiration

Sometimes, the only evidence we have of something is how it makes us feel. Regardless of what emotion gets wound-up in that feeling we attempt to intellectualize, I would argue it’s always tied to inspiration. 

Inspiration can be found anywhere. From an orange peel, to a neon sign, to your favorite holiday, to someone you love, inspiration is a feeling that facilitates an abundance of creation. Moreover, one of the biggest tools an artist can learn is how to execute that creation. This process, though incredibly individual, often requires some guidance. And what better guidance to receive than from a master in your desired craft? 

Have you ever had the burning desire to learn how to cook the perfect beef wellington from Gordon Ramsey himself? Or the insatiable urge to learn about the power of personal branding from “momager” Kris Jenner? From entertainment, to design, to writing, to wellness, the online streaming platform MasterClass offers hundreds of video lessons from the world’s “Masters” – so you can, in theory, become one too. For $15/monthly, you have access to some of the most exclusive knowledge from industry professionals with the touch of a button. You also get access to an in-depth workbook to track your progress! This is an exciting opportunity for young artists to expose themselves to new, diverse, and inclusive artistic processes. 

For myself, I found Natalie Portman’s “Teaches Acting” class to be not only insightful, but thought provoking. She emphasizes the importance of balancing imagination with making an acting performance as human as possible. Not only that, but she never attended a formal drama program – so her knowledge is from her own unique experience. Because of this, her approach is relatable, not intimating, and wonderful to learn from. Additionally, I have recently developed an itch for writing poetry/poetic short stories, and have taken the initiative to learn from Margaret Atwood’s “Teaches Creative Writing” class. Here is a little taste of what I’ve created so far;

"The concept of connection implies development, but longevity should not be assumed. However, from the moment I met you, you’ve had the same eyes. And though they have not changed physically, as I experience you, they seem new every time. With your allowance, and on your own terms, I have begun to see past them. As the connection I feel with you, through your eyes, develops, I pray for longevity. So don’t blink, don’t look away, I want to look at you – for as long as possible.”

Though this is not sponsored by MasterClass – though we wish it was, I highly encourage you to check out this program. Finding how to execute your inspiration is worth the investment. I promise, regardless of the outcome, progress will have been made – and that’s the ultimate goal.

I Want To Be The Strong, Vulnerable Lead

On a Saturday afternoon in late July, the sun in the Catskills pierces through the bountiful clouds that determinedly hang overhead. They are crafted from humid air, the baking of Challah, and dust from costume sheds at the world-renowned theatre camp Stagedoor Manor. A sunbeam bounces off an electrical wire and lights my path as I saunter to The Playhouse  – a performance space at “The Manor” that was home to a production of Rock Of Ages I was participating in that summer. I came to perform and shine, but I couldn’t have predicted what I’d be portraying on stage.

As I carry my LaDucas to the dress call of our first show, I reflect on the moment I saw the cast list. Line after line, my finger pushed down the page until I traced my name next to the role of Hilda Klinneman. Excited to have a named, and not a numbered character, I almost didn’t notice the name listed under it – Franz Klinemann. With years of being casted as the lover or wife, my heart sank with the thought, “Oh great, I have a husband.” After frantically thumbing through the script looking for a dreaded stage-kiss, I realized he wasn’t my husband. He was my son, and he had my last name. My disbelief continued to grow as I read; my character was a powerful villain who wants to tear down a strip club to build a Foot Locker, has a son, and doesn’t have a love interest. Hilda was a unicorn of a character for any 18-year-old woman to be playing. 

My body finally met the entrance doors of The Playhouse, and I darted towards my costume rack. I reached for my maroon pantsuit and felt the cornmeal-like fabric scrape against my forearm. It was the best feeling ever, knowing my character got to wear pants and, more importantly, have pockets! I suited up, set my props, and strutted on downstage to cause some chaos. Prior to this, my inner unapologetic boss has hardly seen the light of day – much less under a spotlight. My character empowered me. Like my male-costars, I was able to drive scenes, demand respect, take what I wanted, and nobody could stop me. I began to think a woman having this much power was too good to be true – and I was right. The second week of rehearsals is when I learned that “Heinz” Klinneman originated the role on Broadway and not Hilda. Due to the theatre camp’s lack of male representation, they changed the gender of the role for me to play. I was portraying a character written for a man. 

Brit Marling, an American actress, screenwriter, and woman, has also portrayed roles with a man in mind. However, her experiences in these roles have not been as pleasant. In her essay, “I Don’t Want To Be The Strong Female Lead,” Marling challenges and criticizes the representation of a “strong female lead” in movies and television and how its undeniable tie to the patriarchy undermines its true purpose, showing audiences that women are capable of making impactful decisions without the influence of men. The concept of female strength is a curious one. For “strong female leads” to be seen as strong by audiences, Marling claims they must possess “traditionally masculine qualities; physical powers, linear ambition, focused rationality” (6). By that logic, Marling could say Hilda is a problematic portrayal of a “strong female lead” because some of the traits that define her strength and authority are rooted in masculinity rather than femininity. I disagree. As the portrayer, I brought a feminine energy on stage that coexisted with my masculine energy. Instead of instilling fear, I depicted unwavering confidence. With a plastered smile and the occasional squawking, I tore down a strip club while passing the Bechdel Test. Women playing originally male roles or roles with masculine traits have the potential to expand an audience’s view of female strength and characteristics. For example; a strong female character can have “focused rationality” (6) while being “empathetic” (6). With that said, Marling and I would agree that “strong female leads” portraying vulnerability while still appearing strong is a complex task. 

Towards the end of Act 2 in Rock Of Ages, Hilda has a meltdown about being alone after pushing her son away. I hysterically scream, cry, and roll around on the floor with a bottle of whiskey in my hand. After I get that out of my system, I admit my wrongdoings and decide not to build a footlocker. In the script, this scene is called “Moment Of Weakness”. Due to Hilda’s pre-established dominance and the authority that came after, this moment of vulnerability didn’t wipe her strength from the audience's mind. Be that as it may, it does emphasize a bigger issue. This display of vulnerability is done mockingly. Women are expected to be overly emotional beings, so in a societally expected way, Hilda could get away with it. When Heinz portrayed this scene on Broadway, he was seen as an emotional joke for the rest of the show. In the case of Rock Of Ages, vulnerability is exaggerated to a point of abrasiveness. It’s clearly not written to be seen as strength. It’s written to be a punchline. It plays on the stigmatization of vulnerability and proves that it’s generally viewed by an audience as weakness. It begs the question, can an audience view vulnerability – a traditionally feminine characteristic – as strength?

When fairly analyzing whether or not vulnerability can be seen as strength, it’s important to look at sincere displays, rather than those done mockingly. In Andrew Wyeth’s “Christina’s World”, Wyeth paints an empty grass field with a seemingly hopeless woman laying at the bottom of a long, slowly inclining hill. She is alone. The woman's body faces away from us, and she fixes her gaze upwards to two off-white wooden buildings – a barn and a house. She is clean and clothed in a light pink dress, white tights, and black leather loafers. With her body desperately propped up on her toned arms, the woman’s right hip rests on the brittle ground, and her legs drape and drag behind. She appears to be crawling to the barn in the foggy distance. The choice in proportion makes it as if you were two feet behind her in the field, in “Christina's World”. A woman laying alone in a hazy field, seemingly unable to get up, is a vulnerable, uncomfortable image. There is no joke, punchline, or anything to ease the discomfort of seeing a woman struggling. However, the truth of this image lies in how an audience would answer the following question: does this woman exhibit strength or weakness?

According to the plaque in the MoMa, the woman in this painting is Anna Christina Olson at age 55 (1). Due to a degenerative muscular disorder, Anna had been unable to walk since she was 30 (1). Refusing to use a wheelchair, she chose to crawl everywhere (1). Wyeth met Anna one summer in Maine and chose to paint an interpretation of what he saw of her (1). When I initially viewed this image, I had no prior knowledge of the backstory. In my eyes, she gained strength after I learned she had chosen to crawl, instead of being weak and infirmed. This leads me to believe that, had I not known her backstory, I wouldn’t have assumed she possessed strength. As a woman and audience member to this painting, this troubles me. It makes me wonder if there is a medium in which vulnerability is displayed and strength is assumed.

In his essay, “I Didn’t Understand Male Privilege Until I Became A Stay-At-Home Dad,” Billy Kilgore reflects and criticizes the “pedestal effect” and how one trip to the grocery store with his young kids unveiled a new perspective of his own male privilege. Embedded within society, there is a disparity between the amount of recognition fathers receive over mothers for their vulnerability. When Billy, a recently unemployed stay-at-home father, entered the meat section with his “3-year-old son strapped in the seat and (his) 3-month-old son wrapped against (his) chest” (1), a shower of praise from the female employees washed over him. The compliments ranged from; “you are taking this dad thing to the next level” (2) to “you are the best dad ever” (2). After this trip, Billy didn’t realize he was experiencing male privilege until he read an article from Auburn University that discussed the “Pedestal Effect.” The “Pedestal Effect” refers to “when men receive undeserved praise, attention and rewards for performing work traditionally done by women, such as caring for a baby in a wrap” (3). The “Pedestal Effect” can be attributed to men having to break down social constructs to have their vulnerability be seen as strength. As a woman, I find the extra effort men make to defy a system they created simultaneously admirable and a little lackluster. Society has always viewed men as innately stronger than women. Therefore, men can be seen as both strong and vulnerable, while women are assumed one or the other. Having said that, the overwhelming population of praise givers for male vulnerability are women. In the case of Billy, he could barely pass a woman in the grocery store without receiving affirmations. Perhaps consciously and unconsciously, women praise men for their feminine behavior because it conveys a relatable quality that women can connect with. We can see this with Harry Styles, Troye Sivan, Lil Nas X, Billy Porter, and even Drag Queens. Their success with a female audience, as well as an LGBTQ+ audience, is proof that people admire these qualities in men. Furthermore, if vulnerability and other feminine traits are normalized through men, perhaps society will begin to view those traits as strong. Moreover, if men in the media convey genuine vulnerability, perhaps audiences will begin viewing it as strength. As Brit Marling said, ​​“stories inspire our actions” (9). This may prove to be an effective solution, but it is not my first choice. 

Playing the role of Hilda will forever be a euphoric experience in which I was able to exercise my strength in a way I never imagined. While I never may again wear an itchy pantsuit or conquer a strip club, I refuse to retire the perseverance she possessed. The audience saw me on the stage – a strong female lead – and not the man it was written for. Yes, there are problems with how women are represented in the media; however, day by day, it is improving. I couldn’t have portrayed a character like Hilda the same way on stage a few decades ago. She herself would’ve been the joke, rather than the vulnerability she portrayed. Yes, vulnerability being seen as a joke or differently between genders is also a compounded issue that deserves more attention and aid. I am optimistic that it will be – and you should be too. Our generation will shape the world through what we create. We have seen it happen throughout history. What was once acceptable and funny may be seen as insensitive and cruel today. This acknowledgement leads to change. Conceivably, giving an audience not what they think they want, but what they may need, is how we move forward. I believe that, in order to resolve the disparity in which we see vulnerability as strength, we must model it through every gender, race, ethnicity, sexual orientation, socioeconomic status, and other aspects of identity. On and off the stage, I will inhabit what I desire to represent. I encourage you to do the same.

Works Cited

“Andrew Wyeth. Christina's World. 1948.” MoMA, https://www.moma.org/collection/works/78455. Accessed 1 October 2022.

Kilgore, Billy Doidge. “Perspective | I didn't understand male privilege until I became a stay-at-home dad.” The Washington Post, 26 March 2018, https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/parenting/wp/2018/03/26/being-a-stay-at-home-dad-raised-my-awareness-of-male-privilege-and-i-cant-ignore-it/. Accessed 3 October 2022.

Marling, Brit. “Opinion | I Don't Want to Be the Strong Female Lead (Published 2020).” The New York Times, 7 February 2020, https://www.nytimes.com/2020/02/07/opinion/sunday/brit-marling-women-movies.html. Accessed 4 October 2022.

Trophies & Certainties

Within the cyclical nature of the four seasons, there lies a glamorous fifth between the months of November and February: award season. 

From the Oscars to the Golden Globes, aspiring artists everywhere watch and worship these events of highest recognition – and the red carpet looks. As we watch, we can find ourselves rooting for our favorite movies, television shows, directors, writers, and actors. When our favorites win, it is as if we win with them. When our favorites lose, we may get disappointed, but they’re still our favorites. If we still respect and appreciate other artists’ work despite its “loss,” why do we sometimes struggle to grant ourselves that same grace? 

As we grow into this industry, and strive for success, there will certainly be times where we aren’t chosen or we don’t win – a decision that is often out of our eager hands. That said, how can we redefine winning into a verb that benefits us perpetually, rather than only occurring during a fifth season on someone else’s terms? 

When the term “winning” is associated with “an award,” we commonly visualize a physical trophy – an Oscar, a plaque, or a ribbon. However, a trophy cannot be carried around, clutched up, and balled in a fist any longer than it takes you to get from the stage you won it on to your chair next to Meryl Streep. Though awards gifted from other people make us feel chosen, in this work, we must choose ourselves above all, then we really win. That’s a prize we can carry everywhere we go. 

For myself, I’ve tried to redefine winning by completing tasks that help me develop my creativity, while participating in self-care. When we engage in our craft in a safe environment, on our own terms, we can remind ourselves of what inspired us to create in the first place. This reminder, along with developing our skills, has the potential to create a more sustainable, enjoyable mindset – rather than one that burns out before we can reach our highest capabilities. 

If your an actor looking for some accessible ways to “win,” here are a few fun ideas to help you towards your goal and choose yourself;

1. Build Your Own Actor Website: Turn on your favorite music, grab a snack, and build your own website using this template! By designing a tool that will help your career will allow you to make connections – and possibly allow you to feel more confident in your work! Add your resume, reels (if you have them), headshots, and you’re all set!

2. Online Acting Classes, Seminars, and Other Resources: The Acting Guide is a fantastic, and free, resource to get more information on the acting process, some acting methods and techniques, schools, seminars, and monologues. You got this!

3. Research Some Monologues: Get ready to say “oh that’s SO me” while researching the monologue that could land you your dream job. It’s always good to have a few monologues ready to go – you never know who you might meet!

4. Watch Actors Interviews: Every actor has their own process, story, and message – find a few that inspire you! *May I suggest looking at Spotlight’s Interviews ;)

5. Familiarize Yourself With Editing Software: There’s nothing better than being able to edit your own reels. My favorite programs are; Premiere Pro, iMovie, and Final Cut.

If your a filmmaker looking for some accessible ways to “win”, here are a few fun ideas to help you towards your goal and choose yourself;

1. Filmmaker IQ: Have you ever been curious about film and cinematic history? Look no further! Filmmaker IQ offers courses to learn the ins and outs of filmmaking. 

2. Lessons From The Screenplay: This AMAZING YouTube channel provides tips, tutorials, deep-dives and general insight on filmmaking. *As an actor, I also find these extremely useful.

3. Familiarize Yourself With Editing Software: There’s NOTHING better than being able to edit your own film projects. My favorite programs are; Premiere Pro, iMovie, and Final Cut.

Trophies are not always certain in this industry. However, what is certain – and necessary, is showing up for ourselves. The first person to experience your art is you.

Make it count.