What's New, Pussycat?

I've been meaning to type out a "general update" for a while now. But I never got around to it. I even had a half-finished (half-started?) Word document saved, which summed up 2009, and told of my fiendish plans for 2010. But that went kaput with my old laptop. So now, I start from scratch. Literally.

I mean "figuratively." Sorry. I get confused.

So. First things first (because those are the things that usually come first): money. This is arguably the most interesting thing in my life right now. Scratch that -- it's not interesting at all. It's just the "biggest change."

Anyhow, I'm working as a paralegal at Disney, in the online film & television anti-piracy group. Which means, I am the jerk who "takes down" any copyright infringing Disney content that's been posted online. If you've ever been contacted by someone at Disney regarding a video you posted online, then yeah, that could very well have been me. Sorry. It's nothing personal...I'm just trying to make a living, bro. I'm not here because I'm passionate about copyright law or anything. I just click the buttons that make the videos go away, and Disney gives me the money.


Arrrgh! Shiver me YouTube.

But, this "new job" begs the question, "Um...so...Tyler? What about acting? Are you giving up? Quitter. You make me want to punch a chicken in the beak."

Whoa, there. Easy, friend. I'm not giving up, okay? I'm just taking an indefinite leave of absence, so I can spend more time with my family.

Just kidding. I'm not doing that. I just like how it sounds.

No. I'm still acting. That's why I moved down here, so why in the hell would I give up on it?

So, to understand my take on "Tyler's Acting Career," I should first explain what happened in the last year, and what I'm planning on doing in the coming year.

So, in several blog posts (far too many, if I recall), I whined, and railed, and cried like a little baby chicken that had just been punched in the beak about how difficult it was to get my SAG eligibility. Like, here, here, here, here, here, and here. In fact, I think I may have talked about how I'm not SAG eligible more than I apologized for "not writing more." A pretty remarkable feat, actually.

But you know what's far more helpful than "complaining about something?"

Doing something to fix the problem.

So, that's what I'm doing. "But Tyler," you wheeze (because you just got back from the gym), "How is 'going to work at a day job' going to get you into SAG? Don't you have to have your days free to pursue acting?"

First of all, shut up. This is my blog. You want to ask me questions, you can get your own damn blog. You can call it "Jibes and Japes" for all I damn care.

Secondly, here's the problem: acting costs a lot of money. Seems like a no-brainer, but it's easy to forget (because, a person can act for free, at any time, right?) But if you want to make money in this business, you need to spend a couple of years losing a lot of money. I guess that's like any business...the problem is, most actors don't approach this profession as if it were a business (unless the IRS asks). Myself included.

Now, unfortunately for me, I was barely treading water in those last couple of months (before I started working for Disney). It got so bad that I had to borrow money from my cash-strapped wife to pay rent for three months in a row. And, at my ultimate low-point, I got my first-ever NSF on a rent check during that time.

Which is a long-winded way of saying: I was unable to pay rent, much less cover the costs of acting classes, headshots, gasoline to drive to auditions, website subscriptions, printer toner (for resumes), etc.

But, even more damning is the fact that I wasn't even auditioning for stuff. Auditioning is free...but somehow I couldn't afford it -- I had to leave all of my days open for background work (which was terribly inconsistent as well...but that's another story for another time). Basically, I was floundering. Foundering? Hmm...let me Dictionary.com that. Huh. Interesting. I'm not sure which one to use here. Was I flapping about uselessly, or sinking? Maybe it was a little bit of both. I was floundering while I was foundering.

Back to the topic at hand: for 2010, I have a plan.

It might not be a good plan. It might be a miserable failure. It might be stupid. It might be really uninteresting, but I'm going to tell it to you anyway. Because I like you, and you smell nice.

First step (huh...lots of numbered lists this blog post): take classes. These include the dreaded "casting director workshops," which are, essentially, classes that involve you paying money to "be seen" by a casting director. It's lame. It's corrupt. It has a very low success rate. It seems like a waste of time and money. And it can be somewhat degrading. But for a schlub like myself, with no acting credits, and no union affiliation, it's one of the only ways to actually get my "foot in the door" at a casting office. I couldn't afford to go to these workshops in 2009, because I needed to pay rent and "eat food." Now, with my new job, I can go...and give myself a chance to, maybe, sneak my way onto a commercial, movie, or TV show.

Second step: write. I need to finish editing my script. I need to finish writing my second script. I need to blog more. I need to read other peoples' screenplays to see how it's done. I need to show my work to other people, so they can tell me if I suck or not. Finally, once I have a product I'm satisfied with, I need to show my writing to agents, producers, and executives. This is a long process, and I'm horribly inexperienced, naive, and (frankly) overwhelmed by the thought of it...but what have I got to lose, right? My life? Sure, I could be killed over this...but it's very unlikely. So, I think I'm going to risk it.

Third step: act. This can be done in a couple of ways -- the easiest being in "online videos that I write and produce." Either that, or I can act in projects that other people are producing. Or act in "theater," like I did last year. I also need to assemble an acting "reel," because it's pretty inexcusable that I don't have one after two years in Los Angeles pretending to be an "actor." But, any way I can, I need to do it. No more excuses...because excuses are like assholes: everyone has one (except for the people who don't), and they're also called "anal sphincters." Did I say that right?

Fourth step: audition. I don't submit for auditions any more. I haven't, maybe, for the last five months or so. I absolutely must start doing this again. I have no excuses, because excuses are like parrots: they're covered in feathers, and they killed my uncle.

Anyhow, that's the plan. Maybe this is just the expected "pump up" that every human being gives themselves on the arbitrary beginning of the Gregorian calendar (and, by the way, can anyone understand this history of the month of February? I've read it four times now...and I still have no idea why Februaray has 28 days, and why it's the month that gets a "leap year") (oh, I get it now. No one knows. Thanks, Slate!).

Where was I? Okay...sorry...I get distracted easily. The point is: I do dumb crap like this every year (see this blog post, for a ridiculously similar optimistic treacle...good God, I'm so predictable). At the end of the calendar year, or the beginning of the new year, I'm all like, "Man, I'm going to make some big ol' fat changes in my life. I'm going to get off of my butt and do something." Then I never end up following through. I guess that's the story of human existence, right? Except, my story is way, way, waaaay more interesting, because it involves me. And I'm totally different from everyone else.

I'm getting distracted again. Anyhow, that's the jist of my plan. It might pan out. It probably won't. But either way, it's a start. And I'm an imperfect being, just spitting out the same encouraging platitudes that better people have spit out since the dawn of man.

Except my platitudes are different. Because I'm saying them. Right, guys? Right?

So, Tyler, How'd You Get Into Acting? (Part 2: The Later Years)

Where did I leave off?

Ah. Okay.

Megan Hunt, and Village Theatre. That whole thing. Okay. Let me go back a year or two, then I'll pick it up where I left off.

So, my mother, God bless her, has always been my biggest fan. I know that's a cliche, and I know everyone loves their mother, and blah blah blah. But my mom is the only person who's seen every stinking acting job I've ever done, from the lowliest student-written one-act when I was in colelge, to the fanciest professional theater gigs.

Honestly, I would never have actually pursued my dreams of "acting professionally" if it hadn't been for the selfless commitment from my mother. Now, she didn't "push me into it," and she was never behaved like those irritating "stage moms" that I got to know and love in my adult life. But at the same time, whenever my motivation flagged (which happens far too often for me), she'd sign me up for classes or auditions, and drive me all over the east end of Lake Washington to make sure I was able to keep doing what I loved. All the while she was working two (sometimes three or four) jobs as a single mother of four. I know, I know, it's a cliche...and I'm sorry for the excessive "mother love" in this opener...but it needs to be said. This whole "acting thing" that I love to do was made possible because of her.

And that brings me to my connection with Village Theatre. My mother concluded that, since I was showing a lot of interest in "the acting," I should take some "acting classes." Another contributing factor was that I, very briefly, had a "talent agent" in the 5th Grade. This agency, "Kid Stars," was located at a big office in downtown Bellevue. The office had lots of glass, shiny desks, big bulletin boards, and professional-looking headshots plastered all over the walls. After reading a monologue for one of the agents, they decided to sign me onto their roster. Over the course of the next year they booked me on a grand total of two auditions -- a "cattle call" for a Sears commercial, and an "Unsolved Mysteries" audition. I absolutely bombed both of those...especially the second one, which involved a lot of awkward laughter, confusion, and flop sweat (I was asked to "improv" a scene, and since I'd never "improv'd" before, I made a complete and utter ass of myself). Anyhow, after these two fails, it was apparent to everyone involved that, in spite of my storied "community theater" career...I was not quite ready to take the "next step."

So, to remedy my severe "lack of training," my mother decided to enroll me in some acting classes. I never asked her to enroll me....and I may have even openly resisted it...but I'm glad as hell that she made me go (it was one of those great "ignoring your kids" moments that parents ought to do more often). One of the first classes that I attended was taught by a woman named Megan Hunt, who was teaching a class offered through Village Theatre's "KidStage" program.

The class itself wasn't all that memorable, honestly. We'd read scenes. We'd do improv games. And, for our "parent showcase," we'd rehearse a few sketches from the movie Free To Be...You & Me. I enjoyed the class, and I thought I was doing pretty well in it.


This is one of the sketches we performed; I played a tiger.

I guess I was doing well, because after the showcase was concluded, Megan approached me and asked me if I'd like to audition for the upcoming Village Theatre production of "Narnia." This would be a far cry from the community theater productions I'd done up to that point, and, were I to get cast in the show, I'd be working at a bona fide professional theater. Megan was, incidentally, the daughter of the executive producer (and founder) of the theater, Robb Hunt, so I had a pretty good "in."

So I auditioned...and holding with tradition, I absolutely blew it. I was awful. I sang "A Whole New World" from Aladdin, but forgot the words about halfway through. That, and my knees were trembling horribly throughout the audition...and I'm fairly certain that my voice cracked (which is a safe bet for any 12 year old boy).

Needless to say, I was not cast. Or called back. Or probably even "thought about" by the casting people once I'd walked out of the room.

Luckily for me, I got a second chance to redeem myself with Village Theatre. Seems that Megan was slated to direct "Bye Bye Birdie" the following summer, for the KidStage summer show. Apparently, the KidStage program also sponsored a separate, full-length show...which was produced, designed, and performed by "kids" aged 4-20. All done under the watchful eyes of Village Theatre.

Well, I don't remember anything about my Bye Bye Birdie audition (honestly...I can't remember a dang thing...and I really tried), but it must have gone well, because I was cast as "Charles F. Maude, the Bartender," among other smaller roles.

I had a blast that summer, and I was hooked. I went back to do the KidStage show in Issaquah every summer for the next five years. There, I met some truly talented and dedicated people, who inspired me, and stoked my love for acting. I still keep in touch with many of them, who (like myself) have gone on to work professionally in the business.

However, there were two definitive moments that convinced me (beyond a shadow of a doubt) that "acting" would always be in my future.

he first happened during the school year, months before I was cast in Bye Bye Birdie. When I was in the 7th grade, I found out that there was a "play" being produced by the choir director (a former beauty queen). This was great news for me, because Kenmore Jr. High did not have theater classes of any kind...so it was a chance for me to be around some like-minded individuals, and show off my fancy acting talents.

The turn-out for the audition was huge...with over 100 people auditioning. I was one of those hopefuls, and I managed to get cast in one of the lead roles -- a jester who opened the show with a monologue (that I still remember to this day, for some reason), and conducted the show-within-a-show. It was called "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, Let Down Your Heir," and was intended to be performed as dinner theater.

I'll never forget, though...that first rehearsal. I was a painfully awkward, greasy, acne-scarred, badly-dressed stick of a puberty-riddled 13-year-old. The script called for the Jester character (me) to be "flirted with" by a random female character. The actress slated to do the flirting was named Heidi Schiller...and she was, to me, maybe the prettiest girl at Kenmore Jr. High. And she was supposed to flirt. With me. Whoa.

So we were blocking the scene, and I was fully prepared for (nay, completely expecting) her to either half-ass it, or outright ignore the blocking notes. But no, she jumped right in, and started rubbing up against me, and running her hands all over me. It was, in a word: "totally freaking amazing."

Funny, because four years later, Heidi died in a car crash driving home from a high school football game. I never really got to thank her for giving me some confidence when I really needed it. Too bad.

Okay, sorry, I'm kidding. She's still alive, and we actually became fairly good friends after we ended up going to the same college. But man, the car crash thing would make a much better story, wouldn't it?

I digress.

Anyhow, rehearsals were going great, but unfortunately, the show never ended up happening. One Friday, about two weeks into the rehearsal process, the beauty-queen-turned-choir-director called the cast (of about 70) into a meeting in the choir room. There, in a super-classy move, she blamed the students for not being dedicated enough, and canceled the performances (when, in fact, she'd really just got in over her head with a project that she had been half-assing the entire time).

So, no more flirting with Heidi for me. In fact, for the rest of my junior high career, my extra-curricular activities where limited to sports (and I really hated the jocks at our school), and band (where I liked the people, didn't earn any "popularity points"). The lack of school-run theater pretty much ruined my chances at social interaction from grades 7-9...but that's another story for another blog.

Anyhow, that set me down the path to a career in acting. Moment #2 sealed my fate. This moment occured during the run of "Bye Bye Birdie." At a certain point during the show, I was supposed to cross backstage after one of the musical numbers (let's just say "Ed Sullivan" for the sake of picking a number from the show). It was a pretty small space, so you learned pretty fast how to walk about quickly and safely from point A to point B.

Now, when we finally started performances, I received one of the greatest surprises I'd ever had, up to that point in my life. As I was crossing behind the stage, I walked by a "quick-change" station, where some of the older girls were changing for the next scene. And I got to witness something that would change my life forever. Wonder of wonders...I saw a group of women dressed only in their undergarments, changing for the next scene.

It was...simply put...a revelation. I was hooked.

Because, sure, I love the art. I love the rush of adrenaline. I love creating something I can be proud of. And I love performing.

But most of all, I love the ladies. That's why I do what I do.

Okay, that's not true.

Well, it's partly true.

Fine, it's mostly true. I got into acting to meet women. Happy? It's the same thing that motivated Picasso, Van Gogh, Shakespeare, Carrot Top, Mozart, and countless other womanizing (but talented) freaks before me. And shoot, it worked, didn't it? I married way, way, WAAAY above my station in life...and that was only possible because I met the lady doing a show. In fact, I met all three of my serious girlfriends doing theater. Not too shabby...

So, in my fantasy future, when I'm asked, "How'd you get into acting?" I'll say: "Well, I saw a chick in her bra backstage during a show one time, and I decided that I'd like to see that more often." Might not have the poetry of a more artistically-based response...but at least it'd be honest.

A Follower!

First I was all like, "Holy crap! I have a follower on this blog that I've told no one about!"

Then I realized that it was just me...following myself. It was probably the saddest thing that has ever, ever happened to me.