Really? This is funny? Really?! this is what I want to take on tour across the country? Because I’m not seeing it anymore.

A couple of days ago, I brought my roller skates to acting class and used them in a scene. It felt great. Like slipping into a warm bath or a gentle hug only for your feet. I know, somewhere, deep down, the magic is still there, but I’m just not seeing it anymore. I don’t feel like a creator, an artist, anymore. I feel like an office drone and I’m really not sure how to get out of it. I’m really not sure I even want to do RDSmS anymore…

I miss my team, but we’re in different cities with different things on the go now. I wish I could get us all together for rehearsal. I wish I had a reason to put on the show again, one more time, just to know if I’ve still “got it”.

So I’m asking all my fring-y artist friends who create, produce and perform their own work: does this ever happen to you? How do you deal with it?

I can count on one hand the number of times this has happened in my lifetime and here she was saying it multiple times in one phone conversation. At first I thought she was just proud because I have fulfilled some sort of lifelong dream that involves working two full-time jobs, but no, she’s proud of me for going after my dream of being a professional actor. So thrown was I by this confession that I had to call her back after I hung up and make sure she wasn’t dying (she’s not, btw).

Without going into details, I only have my Mom and she’s never been happy with my career choice. I’m sure there are a lot of you out there who can understand what that feels like. I’ve always been jealous of artists who have parental support. Sure, she wants me to be happy, but she knows how difficult an acting career can be and she doesn’t want me to have to deal with that.

She basically told me the reason she never said it before was because she knew I would take it as a sign of encouragement and I would just run off, potentially slamming my face into the wall in the process. And she’s right. But what she only seems to be realizing now is that it’s MY face. And if I want to get a giant tattoo of a bird on there or slam it metaphorically into a wall, I’m going to do that, whether or not she likes it or approves of it. But it would be much nicer and easier for me if she did.

I’m a grown up, yes. I’ve been living on my own for over twelve years. I cook my own meals, good meals, and do my own laundry and cleaning. I own property, I work hard, and I’ve had some level of success doing what I do. I’m an actor, a writer, a producer and a marketing person. I dream of being an internationally recognized bilingual artist and just watch me because I will get there one day. I love to travel and learn and meet new people. I do not need anyone’s approval or support. I fall down and fall often, but I always ALWAYS get back up. I can do anything that I put my mind to. I am a strong, ambitious and independent woman.

But just between you, me and the interwebs, deep down, what I’ve always wanted is my Mommy to be proud of me and know that I am only able to do even half the stuff I have accomplished in my life because of her. Because I’ve seen her be a strong, ambitious and independent woman, an entrepreneur who has raised two very strong and successful daughters by falling down a lot but always ALWAYS being crazy enough to just get back up again on her own terms. And that’s the best example and the greatest gift I could have ever had.

I love you, Mom, and I’m proud of you too.

The roommate and I signed up.  Turns out my roommate is a former gymnast (is there anything she can’t do?) and she also wanted to get back into shape.

The class itself is really cool and the instructor is *sigh* very good.  We started out with some stretching, then some tumbling (where I swear the Mission Impossible theme was playing in my head the entire time), tried to balance some objects on our chins, got my first introduction to juggling, and then did a circuit that included balancing yourself on top of a ball as well climbing up silks and a low-hanging trapeze.

It was hard and I’m definitely feeling it today, but I’m proud that the roommate and I were able to keep up.  Not to mention some activities were a lot easier than I thought they would be like standing up tall on a big round ball.

The only difference: the ball was blue. Hey, at least I didn't fall off.

This one made sense to me.  It’s all core work and I’ve got a lot of experience there thanks to yoga and roller skating.  No, the one that did surprise me was the fact that I can juggle.  How that happened I really don’t know, but it felt the exact same way it did the first time I put on roller skates.  Not easy, but with definite ease. Next up, juggling on roller skates?

The original caption was called "Just Juggling Is Not Enough"

Someday…

This is for your own good

So, for my first CPDCT, meet Corin Raymond.

I met Corin last year at the Hamilton Fringe Festival when he absolutely wowed me with his solo storytelling epic, Bookworm.  That’s when I also found out he was a musician, and a pretty damn good one at that.  Weeks ago, Corin found out that The Rogue Studio, where he got his last CD mixed and mastered and all that fancy musician lingo, has always accepted Canadian Tire money at par.  Since then, he’s been a man on a mission.  His goal, to raise all the money needed to produce his next album.  The response has been pretty great so far, but on Monday, the dream got bigger.  Taken from his Facebook page:

I’m gonna take this thing all the way– I’m gonna break the record for non-Canadian-Tire-affiliated-Canadian-citizen-gathered stash of CT bills. I’m going to set a record which has never been and will not be repeated in our lifetimes. I’m going to make TWO beautiful albums as a result and I’m going to spread the joy of the experience every which way, all the way, and keep you in smiles all year long. I don’t even know what the record is, but I’ll tell you this: it’s not gonna be able to see me for dust.

His enthusiasm is crazy exciting and I want to do something to help.  Now, I’ve already mailed in the little bit of CT money I found in my wallet (and god damn I wish it was more!), and I want you to do the same.  Go to your wallet, your old receipt drawer, your family members’ wallets and fish out those little Sandy McTire’s you’ve been saving up.  Come on, the $2.45 you’ve been saving up isn’t going to do you much good and you know it, but it could make a world of difference for my friend Corin.

Send your Canadian Tire money here:

Corin Raymond
39 Oxford St.,
Toronto, ON
M5T 1N8

Or just give it to me. I’ve started a collection at work and I hope to drop it off next week when I attend  the live recording of the album on the 24th.  You can also  RSVP here and attend yourself on January 24 or 25 at the Tranzac.

Follow Corin’s progress and read more about his story on his blog here.

Listen, we need to talk.  You know how I feel about you, right? You know how I try and love all my Fringe Festivals equally and with an open heart.  But, I’ve met somebody else and… I’m not really sure how to say this to you, but it’s your younger sister, Next Stage.

I am so sorry and I hope we can still be friends.

Love,

Nancy

*********************************************

The Next Stage Theatre Festival has come and gone (sniff) and I had a great time.  I spent closing day catching LOVESEXMONEY and Morro and Japs (because “sold out” is just a suggestion when you’re me) and snuggling up in the super warm and cozy beer tent.  I enjoyed both shows a great deal and somehow ended up with an invitation to the cast party for one and an autographed poster for the other.  I’d let you guess which was which, but lets be honest here, if I got to hang out with Morro and Jasp, I’d probably end up like this:

It’s better to get a signed picture. You can’t disappoint a picture…

Neuroses aside though, damn Next Stage, you done good!

First of all, I applaud the location.  Factory Theatre is a great space and you managed to squeeze in comfortably spread out three venues and a beer tent all in one spot.  I love marathon fringing, but I am a lazy lazy person.  Give me the shortest distance between my wine and my theatre and I am a happy lady.  The only thing that could have made it better would have been getting a piggy-back ride up to the Antechamber while someone read the program bios to me aloud (note for next year?)  One of my issues with the TO Fringe has to do with how spread out everything is.  I got to meet way more people at Next Stage than I ever have at the Fringe because I could focus my time on new conversations instead of trying to figure out where the George Igntieff Theatre is located, how long it would take me to run there, and can I jog on a stomach filled with beer?

(for future reference: 15 Devonshire Place, 15 minutes & yes, yes I can)

Second, Next Stage was just so much easier to manage then the Fringe.  10 shows! I could see all of them if I wanted to.  And I saw about half, which isn’t too bad for someone with two full-time jobs.  If I wanted to see half at Fringe, I’d have to catch over 50 productions… The ticketing staff in the super awesome and cozy heated beer tent (have I mentioned it before?) were great and got to know me on a first name basis.  Everything just felt more personable and welcoming.  Not to mention I really appreciated not being asked to “Tip the Fringe” all the damn time (Don’t get me wrong, I get that the festival needs money, but if that’s the case then make the buttons mandatory like so many other Fringes across the country seem to do).

Next Stage was just an all around really great little festival with some quality shows that broke box office records.  Congratulations to everyone involved and I will gladly do it all over again next year!

….

Next year?

*********************************************

Dear Toronto Fringe,

Hey you!  How are you doing? Listen, I may have been a bit too hasty before. I’m sorry. And I swear this change of heart has nothing to do with the fact that your kid sister just packed up shop and left town… because really what did I expect from a 5 year old? Right? Right.

Anyway, I know I may have said some things, but I wasn’t really in my right frame of mind.  I think Morro & Jasp put some gluten in that desert I ate. You know how I get when I have gluten.

So, we’re good right? Because I was wondering… do you have any plans in July?

Call me!

Love,

Nancy

First of all, leave the resume and headshot at home. You’ll have to fill out a form and get your picture taken on location.

The less lines there are to learn, the more people you will find packed into what feels like a very tiny room.  There’s a reason they call them “cattle-call” auditions and, the first time around, you will be struck by the fact that so many people in this town look JUST LIKE YOU.  I swear I didn’t realize there were so many brunettes who like wearing skinny jeans inside their boots before… Remove any delusions you might have. You, my friend, are not special.

If you are a member of ACTRA, don’t forget to sign in with your call time and audition number (meaning is this your first, second, third, ect audition with these people).  This is very important because commercial auditions are one of the few times you can get paid just for showing up.  You get $50 for a callback audition and, if they are running behind schedule, about $75 for every hour past your call time you have to wait.  But you have to sign it all in, otherwise you will not get your money!

Then there’s the audition itself.  Every single one I’ve had so far has been different.  Many of them are in groups, lots seem to involve improv and miming of some sort, and I even had one where they just asked us to say a few words about ourselves.  Sometimes there’s food, though not always the product food. One time I was supposed to be wolfing down a sandwich so they gave us plain ol’ hamburger buns instead.  My roommate often jokes that they just want comedians for commercials and she’s not quite wrong.  They don’t usually want actors, they want “real people” (unless it’s a beer commercial and then they want models).  And since most people watching TV or online ignore commercials, they usually want something funny that will be memorable and hold your attention.  So they want “real people” with “great comedic timing”.

There will often just be one other person in the room, and that’s typically the camera guy (or an associate casting person who is also happens to be the camera operator).  The casting director, the director and the “client” usually won’t show up until a callback, unless there are no callbacks, in which case they will be there.  And if they are there, they will probably be talking to each other a lot and you will wonder why no one seems to notice you’re standing RIGHT THERE.

Chances are you won’t be in the room for more than a few minutes.  They will thank you. You will leave.

If you get a callback (Congratulations! Enjoy your $50!), just come back and do the exact same thing you did last time.  As a safety measure, just wear the same clothes too.  The client probably saw a lot of tapes and don’t have too much imagination. If they brought you in, it’s because they liked something you did the first time around.

Oh and I should have probably mentioned this before, but remember to have fun!

After that, well, I’m not sure what happens after that as I have yet to book a commercial, but I am told it is a very lucrative endeavor, albeit not a very artistically fulfilling one.

And there you have it.  That’s the commercial process in a nutshell.  If I missed anything, feel free to add it in the comments section.

Last night, I had the chance to see Living with Henry at the Next Stage Theatre Festival.  I was pretty keen to see this one since the subject matter appealed to me.  As the friend accompanying me pointed out, a few years ago there were so many movies and stories about people getting HIV/AIDS and dying from it that it’s refreshing to see someone talk about it and where it’s at today.  Because the disease isn’t gone, but sometimes it seems a bit forgotten.  There are a lot of enjoyable moments in Living with Henry: the lead carries the show well; his Mom is a solid actor and I really enjoyed her singing voice; I love the way they portrayed HIV as a big, tough bald guy; there’s an awesome tango number in a bathhouse and OHMYGODSOMUCHPRETTYTOLOOKAT… *ahem* – but as a whole, the show just didn’t do it for me.  I think part of it is because the show tries to be too much at one time.  It wants to be funny and serious and musical and dance-y and it has so much potential material to pull from and gets tossed into so many directions that it just can’t get really good at one thing.  Again, Living with Henry definitely has something to offer, I’m just not sure I was the right person to receive it.

Ok. Moving on. Yesterday, I also had the privilege of attending a general theatre audition for four different summer stock theatre’s in the province.  I thought it was really great they got together for these auditions.  Some people might be intimidated by having more people in a room, but I thrive on it.  Not to mention it’s a pretty big time-saver for me.  I was feeling pretty good about the audition and, yes, it did go very well, but that’s not what stuck with me at the end of the day.  When I walked into the room, one artistic director apologized because they were ahead of schedule and they didn’t want to rush me.  I said it was no problem, it would just get me back to work faster.  And that’s when, with good humour, he replied:

“You are at work.”

I don’t get speechless very often, but that one threw me.  Of course I’m at work!  Auditions are just as much part of the job as the job itself.  Just because you are not getting paid for it, does not mean you don’t have to work. These people don’t know me. They’ve never seen me perform before.  I can’t coast and save up all the “good stuff” for when they hire me.  No.  I have to prepare.  I go to class, I learn and rehearse a monologue, I print resumes and headshots (all of this on my own dime) so that I can walk into a room and comfortably, for lack of a better word, “work” it.

It’s been a while, but I was grateful for the reminder.

I’m angry about everything: the news, the weather, the way I look, the jobs I have, the jobs I don’t have, my family, my lack of skills in certain areas, watching “bad” theatre when I know you can do so much better, money, power, men, women, my mattress, the languages I speak, the languages I don’t speak, the city I’m in, the city I’m not in, selfish people,  people who get treated badly, cleaning, getting out of bed in the morning, feeling tired, sex, politics, debates, competition, people who hate everything, and, oh I don’t know, let’s say the Dutch.  Seriously though, the list doesn’t end there. I am pissed off ALL. THE. TIME.

I never admitted it in public before. Ever.  And having to hide who I am all the time has made me an unhappy person.

Last night, I had my first acting class of the new year.  Our first day assignment: do something that reveals yourself.  It could be anything.  Some people danced, some read poetry, some just talked. Me? I smashed a whole bunch of stuff into itty bitty pieces on the floor.  And it felt AMAZING.  Having let that out, I feel more than ready to tackle the scene I was then assigned: Janice in John Patrick Shanley’s Italian-American Reconciliation – probably the angriest woman written for the stage since Kate in Taming of the Shrew.

This realization also explains to me why I really love things like Roller Derby, Boxing, Wrestling and a healthy dose of Xena: Warrior Princess.  Now I understand why I love the sister character in my one-woman show so much and how easy it is for me to drop into her. She isn’t just an alter-ego, she’s me.

Don’t get me wrong, just because I’m angry does not mean I’m unhappy or can’t be happy or can’t be a good person.  I know that, you know that, but I’m not too sure society knows that.  I’ve been hiding who I really am, making myself weak and small and victim-y because society has taught me that angry, strong women, with a few exceptions (What up, Lucy Lawless?) are “unattractive” and “bitches”.

Well fuck you society, I’m done with that.

Without realizing it, it seems I have gained a pretty substantial arts crush on Kim Collier, which is great because now I know that I really want to work with her.  I wouldn’t have known that if I hadn’t gone out to the theatre.

And if you are an actor you should be going to.  There is so much happening in Toronto right now all the time that it’s really hard to keep up with everything.  I’ve already talked about Next Stage (and will again some more this week as I check out more shows), but I also wanted to let you know about another production that might be flying below your theatre-going radar.

The play is called Four Dogs and a Bone by John Patrick Shanley. It opens tomorrow (January 10th) night and runs until January 21st.

Four Dogs and a Bone is a comedy… scratch a little deeper and it’s a tragedy. After John Patrick Shanley had his first taste of Hollywood with Moonstruck and Joe Vs. The Volcano he exposed the film industry for all its insanity, greed and dirty madness. There are four dogs and only one bone. Two ferocious actresses, a sleazy over-the-edge producer and a naive screenwriter from off-off Broadway all fight for control of a film. A sharp satirical tragic comedy that holds no prisoners in this dog-eat-dog world.

I love this play.  I love most of Shanley’s work, but I really love this play in particular.  And if you are in anyway involved in the performing arts, you will love this play too.    It’s produced by some brilliant artists who really embody what it means to be an actor – if you want to work, don’t just wait for someone to hand it to you, go out there and do it yourself.  I highly encourage you to check them out.

See you at the theatre!

I tried all sorts of things to shake myself out of it.  I did some yoga, went for a run, had some chocolate, drank more booze, drank less booze, drank some tea, drank some warm milk with honey to help me sleep, went for a walk in the sun, listened to music, watched a funny movie, saw some funny theatre, spent time with friends, spent time alone… nothing seemed to work.

Today, after my roommate went out, I just sat on my bed and cried.  Sometimes, that’s all you need.