Coming to Los Angeles Part 4: I'm Here! Now What?

So you did it, huh? You moved. You actually moved. I can't believe you actually frigging did it...

Idiot.

Ha ha. You're screwed now. LOL!

Good luck earning back all of that money you used to move here.

You won't last a year.

Probably won't even last six months.

But hey, if you do make longer, be prepared for several years of obscurity and failure.

I hope you like appearing in "self-produced low budget web videos" for the rest of your career!

Also, it's a good idea to prepare excuses to friends and relatives as to why you haven't "made it" yet.

Here are some popular ones:

"I don't have an agent, so..."

"I have an agent, but he's really crappy and he never gets me auditions, so..."

"I'm not in the union, so..."

"I joined the union too early and I can't compete with lower-paid non-union actors, so..."

"I'm not pretty enough, so..."

"I'm not skinny enough, so..."

"It's not what you know, it's who you know, so..."

"My boss threatened to fire me if I went to that audition, so..."

"I don't have any credits, and I can't get any credits because I don't have any credits (CATCH-22!), so..."

"I've just been really unlucky, so..."

"There aren't any roles for people my age/type/build/hair color/gender/ethnicity/species, so..."

"I need new headshots, but I can't afford them, so..."

And so on. You can use one of mine, or make your own! It's fun!

But that reminds me, have you seen my latest web video? It's hilarious!!! It's got a 25% funny on "Funny Or Die"!!!!

Crazy Train - watch more funny videos

Ugh. Okay. Sorry. Enough with the bitterness and negativity. We're here to have fun and build up your confidence, right?

Right?

Anyhow, I was totally kidding anyway. You're definitely going to make it here...because you have spunk. Talent. You've got star power, kid, and you will "make it" where others have failed.

It's your destiny.

But first things first -- once you've unpacked, set up your internet/cable, and thrown your own "Welcome Me to Los Angeles" BBQ/Housewarming, just take a week to do some LA stuff.

If you're on a budget (aren't we all), you should spend that first week doing some free/cheap stuff. Don't worry -- there's no rush. The "industry" isn't going anywhere.

Here's some budget-friendly ideas for your "Los Angeles Honeymoon" period. Check out Griffith Park (and the Observatory). Go down to the Santa Monica Pier. Check out the Walk of Fame. Experience the crowds of interesting people at the Venice Boardwalk. Buy a hot dog at Pinks. Eat at In-and-Out. Take pictures of the Hollywood sign (you can hike up behind the sign if you're up to it...I've done this about a half-dozen times). Walk around at The Grove. Get intimidated by the rich folks on Rodeo Drive. Drive around and locate some famous filming locations from your favorite TV shows and movies. Shoot an "I MOVED TO LA!!!" video about your adventure, featuring all of the neat places you went and post it to YouTube.

Then post the link here, so I can watch it. I promise I'll watch in a dimly lit room, late at night, with a few days' worth of stubble, wearing sweatpants, and eating a Snickers bar.

What fun!

Once you've got that out of your system, and you're now in love with Los Angeles (no one wants to hear you complain about Los Angeles, so please don't do that)...you can get down to the nitty-gritty of "breaking into the acting business."

But where to start?

Well...I'll tell you. Step one is the subject of my next blog entry: Marketing Materials.

Until then, here's another great web video I wrote, produced, and directed!!!

Success?

This year's tax return was quite a shock, for a number of reasons. The first (and most important) being that, for the first time since I was a teenager, I owed money. Not just "money," but a substantial amount of money.

So I decided, after consulting with a few "entertainment biz" colleagues, to see if an "accountant" could improve my numbers at all.

I assembled all of my 2010 receipts...laboriously went through my checking account statement...and printed out about 100 pages worth of tax document information from the current and previous year. I was planning on writing off as much as I legally could.

I brought it to the accountant...who was a very unconventional, borderline slovenly older gentleman dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. He spent about 10 minutes looking at my assembled tax documents:

"I see that you put all of your deductions on your Schedule C."

"Yep." I guess that's the name of the document the HR Block software used.

"Makes sense. That's the only was you're going to get any money back."

He continued flipping through my documents, looking a little nervous. "So, Tyler, are you familiar with the hobby loss rule?"

"Um...no."

"Basically, it's an IRS law that says if you lose money on your business in three of five years, it's considered a hobby, not a job."

"Oh."

Awesome. So this meant I probably wasn't going to do much better on my tax return (shortly after the hobby loss discussion, he said, "I'm going to be brutally honest with you; I can't help you. I'm not going to take your money, but I suggest you just eat the cost.").

But not only that, it also meant that I'm not sure I can call myself a professional actor any more; technically. I mean, I'll still do it...because it sounds cool. but according to the IRS, I currently have a very expensive "acting hobby."

Don't worry -- you haven't stumbled upon a "Woe is me!!! I'm not famooose yet!" blog entry that every actor with a blog posts a minimum of once a year.

On the contrary...I've never wanted, nor expected fame and fortune. I mean, my goal from the moment I moved to Los Angeles was to be a "working actor." It hasn't happened yet, but that's why it's a "goal," not an "expectation." If it never happens...then so be it. I tried, like hundreds of thousands that have come before me, and I didn't quite get there. It's totally fine, and I'm prepared for it.

But ideally, of course, I'd like to be a working actor. I'm trying, sure, but I definitely could be doing more. I think that's one of the great fallacies that actors buy into -- the "I've worked my ass off, and I have nothing to show for it" whine. Not everyone works their ass off as much as they should/could/say they do. It's a lie that actors tell themselves to excuse their lack of success. Most "actors" have day jobs that consume too much of their time...or they watch television...or play video games...or take on a non-acting hobby of some kind...and time gets wasted.

Then again, only crazy people are actually thinking about how to improve their acting careers every waking hour...and crazy people are generally pretty terrible actors (in spite of what you may have heard).

Another lie actors tell themselves is: "It's just a matter of time" (I tell this lie to myself all the time, in an effort to stay positive). I mean...that's true for some people, but for a lot of people it's just another excuse for the inevitable depressing career examination. For most folks, no matter how hard they try, no matter how much effort the into it, and no matter how long they try, they're probably not going to reach the level of success they desire/deserve.

Success is a funny thing. I've been around quite a bit of success...which is what prompted this blog entry, I suppose. I've worked with two Tony winners (one also has a Pulitzer, the other owns a Peabody), an American Idol Runner-Up, six actors that are currently (or will soon be) appearing on Broadway, and countless others with Broadway credits, legitimate film and television credits, and popular voice-over credits (including the voice of Portal's GlaDOS).

If you couldn't tell, I love name dropping.

The point is (is there a point?) I've seen success happen. For the most part, when I knew these people they weren't successful working actors; they were struggling local actors who became successful through hard work, talent, perseverance, and good fortune.

And of course, success was richly deserved by each person.

Now, if I were the jealous type, I'd be pretty disheartened by all of this. "Why not me???" an annoying person might moan. But I'm not that guy (for the most part). I'm proud of all of them, and honored to have known them before they hit it big. I consider them friends, and I think they'd consider me likewise.

But what about my "career?" Personally, I don't think my time has passed, to be delusionally frank (it's just a matter of time!!!), and I don't think I'll ever give up on it. When I look back at my silly little life, even if I don't ultimately become a success in the entertainment industry, I can always be proud of the fact that I moved to Los Angeles, tried to achieve all of my dreams, and came pretty damn close.

So I'll keep trying...because nothing's stopping me, really. There will be some months where I'm working very hard, and doing a lot. There will be other months where I'm just sorta' sitting on my ass, doing nothing. But I don't see myself ever really stopping. If it's a job, or just a hobby, I don't think I'll ever stop acting.

And if success happens; cool. If not...well damn; at least I tried.

Coming to Los Angeles Part 3: Living in Los Angeles

"Hi, Tyler," you sneer, "where should I live?"

The truth is...if you want to be "available" for the acting stuff, you could live pretty much anywhere you like, as long as you can get to downtown Los Angeles in about two hours, during rush hour (ask Google Maps what that means). Ask anyone who lives outside of town -- they will all say: "Aw, the commute's not that bad." And, in spite of what you've heard about the evils of Los Angeles traffic...generally, it isn't that bad.


"But Tyler," you simper, "I hear there's lots of crime happening in Los Angeles. Should I be worried?"

Good question. Crime is bad, and if you're really concerned, you'll probably want to live in an area with a low crime rate (and if you want to drive yourself berserk with a bunch of terrifying interactive maps and statistics, go here: http://projects.latimes.com/mapping-la/crime/).

But the truth of the matter is, no matter where you are -- from Inglewood to Brentwood, from Compton to Calabasas, from Watts to Westwood -- people have to live. There are no "war zones" in Los Angeles, in spite of how scary it might look on the outside, and in spite of the looming specter of "gangs" and "drugz."

The neighborhood that looks like "the ghetto," is probably full of families who are just going about their day-to-day business. I guarantee you it's safer than it looks. Our first year, we lived in Silver Lake, which is one of the nicest areas east of Hollywood...but whenever we had visitors, we would be inundated with sirens and police helicopters. We knew we were safe, but to the outsider, it can seem quite scary.

On the other hand, I had a friend who moved to Los Angeles and lived in a very upscale apartment in Westwood (one of the nicest areas west of Hollywood). On her first night in the city, a SWAT team was called in to arrest one of the tenants of her building.

But generally, things are safer than they seem. Having said that, though...no one wants to live in a bad neighborhood. It sucks. It's loud, irritating, and scary (especially at night). It's not necessarily "dangerous," but all the same, it may sound like common sense, but I'm going to say it anyway: the better the neighborhood, the better the neighbor.

So, a general guideline? Stay north of the 10 (except for Culver City), west of the 110 (except for Pasadena), south of the 118 (unless you love really long commutes), and east of Malibu (if you can afford to live in the 'Bu, then more power to you...but you might want to use all that goddamn money you have to live a little closer to the action). That ought to put you in a good-ish area, close enough to all of the actor-type places you'll need to get to.


"Hey Tyler," you bleat, "why do you keep calling freeways 'The [freeway number]?'"

Good question. That's just how they do it here. Don't ask me. I spent most of my life traveling on "405", "99" and "I-5". Now every freeway has a "the" in front of it. I personally don't care for it...but when in Rome, right?

Los Angeles is divided up into three main areas -- The Valley (San Fernando Valley), Hollywood (The area just south of the Hollywood Hills, to just north of the 10) and "Everywhere else" (if you live outside of one of those two areas, you'll have to say the name, then possibly explain where it is using well-known areas -- for instance, I live in Tujunga, which is north of Glendale and La Crescenta, and just south of Sunland...which is how I describe it to everyone who asks).


"So, Tyler," you squeal, "what's the best place to live?"

Good question. It totally depends on your situation. Generally, if you want to be near the places that you need to be at as an actor, Hollywood is probably the best place to live. Most of the commercial audition studios (I'll discuss those later) are in the Hollywood area, and the majority of the casting offices are around there too. Of course, not everyone wants to live in Hollywood, because it's really expensive, and really crowded. It's like living in Manhattan, but without any viable means of public transportation. So if you're into that, then by all means...

But from what I can tell, no one actually lives in Hollywood. No one. Trust me, I've looked. It's too expensive, and crowded (did I say that already? I can't remember...). But if you find a place, and you like being pestered all the time, then go for it.

But other than that, the places that are famous for being full of rich folks (Beverly Hills, Brentwood, Bel Air, Westwood, anywhere in the Hollywood Hills) are, of course, going to be good places to live. Also, any neighborhood with a large gay population (West Hollywood and Silver Lake) is likewise going to be a great place to live.

So, what are some other choices, for you people that can't afford $3,000 a month in rent?

Personally, like all people in the Los Angeles area, I'm completely biased toward the places that I've lived. So I'd recommend you live there too.

I loved living in Silver Lake. It's a lovely, well-located area that's away from the throbbing beat of Hollywood and Downtown Los Angeles, you can get pretty much anywhere in 15 minutes -- including places up in the valley (no need for freeways, though those are all easy enough to get to).

Silver Lake is next to Atwater Village and Glendale, and the same rules apply to those places. Some areas of Glendale may appear to be a little scary, but they're not. The only real scary place around Glendale is "Glassell Park." Actually, now that I think about it, any area with the word "Park" in it is one to avoid.

As for "the valley," the closer to the Hollywood Hills you can get, the better the living situation. Burbank is, of course, quite lovely...and quite expensive. Same goes for Studio City, Toluca Lake, and Sherman Oaks.

For the budget-minded (you poor non-rich bastards), the southern part of North Hollywood is still good (but definitely check out the neighborhood before you move...in and around the Arts District is best). Valley Village and Sherman Village are both good (much like "Park" is a warning sign, "Village" is generally a good thing).

Once you get too far north, and/or too far west in the valley, you start to run into problems. Van Nuys gets crappy very quickly. Same goes for Northridge, Granada Hills, Chatsworth, North Hills, Reseda, Porter Ranch, and Winnetka. I honestly don't know a lot about these areas, and the quality varies greatly (I'm sure there are nice areas there too) but in general, I'd be very careful in selecting a house/apartment in the area.

Avoid Sun Valley, Pacoima, and San Fernando. Those places just give me the willies...don't know why. You might find something nice...but just be very careful.

As for the area south of the Hollywood Hills, you're pretty much good anywhere you go, so long as you're north of the 10 freeway (except for MacArthur Park and Downtown, which tend to get very skeevy).

If none of these do you any good, you can go to the "farther out" places that are still relatively clean and acceptable. I hear Eagle Rock is nice, but every time I go there, I secretly hate it. Same with Culver City -- it looks fine, and I like the idea...but for some reason it's always seems either overcrowded, or dirty, or too far out, or...I don't know. I just don't like it.

Pasadena/Altadena (really the same place) is nice, but it's a drive, and it can be expensive (especially the closer you are to downtown Pasadena). La Crescenta/Montrose (actually they are the same place) is also quite nice, but it's very expensive for as far out as it is.

[edit] After receiving some feedback from a dear friend and blog contributor, apparently Echo Park is becoming a nice place to live, I quote: "still affordable and more gentrified everyday." Apparently, now there is even an organic smoothie shop, the existence of which I think might trump the "every area with the word 'park' in it is a bad area. Personally, I have my doubts. I ran around the little pond in Echo Park one time, and it smelled vaguely of (what I hope was dog or goose) feces. But I wouldn't hold the quality of the park against the rest of the neighborhood, which (from what I recall) looked quite lovely.

As for the rest? Hell, I don't know...maybe they're little diamonds in the rough, and you'll be the first one to colonize the "Next Silver Lake" (which is supposedly Eagle Rock...so maybe you'll be looking for the "Next Eagle Rock"). You'll move here and be like, "Wow, Huntington Park is a fantastic place to live, even though it has the word 'Park' in the name!!!" Or "Everyone's moving to Panorama City!!! CATCH THE WAVE!!!!!!"

Best advice -- visit the place you want to live at night. If you get panhandled in front of your house, or if you get mugged or shot, odds are you're in a bad place.


"Well, Tyler," you grumble, "is there anything else I need to know?"

Good question. I don't think so. If there is, I haven't thought of it, so it's probably not that important. Odds are, if you live in an apartment, your next-door neighbor is going to play his/her music way too loud. It's a fact of life -- the dumber the person, the louder they like their music (by the way, if you are that next door neighbor that plays their music way too loud, then I hate you; no one else wants to hear your music, so put headphones on, or turn it down you egocentric jag-off).

As for laws, security deposits, pets, scams, and all of that other boring stuff? I don't know, really...I haven't had any problems, and I don't know anyone who's had serious problems with that stuff. Most folks here like their landlords, and if they don't, they probably live in a crappy neighborhood. Caveat emptor...

Finding places to look at can be a challenge, especially if you're on a budget, or you have special needs. We mainly used Craigslist, but it can be helpful to just drive around neighborhoods you like, and look for "For Rent" signs. It can be a little time-consuming, as well as gas-consuming, but it's a great way to get a lay of the land while you're visiting, looking for a place to live.


"Dude, Tyler," you croon, in a velvety tone that immediately commands respect and admiration, "I will ONLY live in the 'parks'. Affordable, diverse, safe (unless you are in a gang) and really great food and music. And as the gentrification wave spreads east the new hotspot is gonna be Highland Park- mark my words."

Good question. Perhaps I've been a bit unfair to the "______ Park" areas of Los Angeles...so I should explain, and perhaps reiterate some things.

First, the reiteration -- every neighborhood is livable. You can tell it's livable, because people live there. Many people. And the vast majority of them are good, honest, decent human beings who have their own stuff to worry about...meaning they'll leave you alone (if you want them to).

Also, I should point out, that if you're a young, pretty, skinny Caucasian female (you know, the ones that the media likes talking about), then you could easily walk by yourself at night, through the worst neighborhoods in Los Angeles, every night, for 365 days straight, and nothing bad would happen to you. I can almost guarantee that you'd be totally fine...and other than a few catcalls, some panhandling, and maybe a little intimidation, you'd be left completely alone.

But...

The real issue is: "How much are you willing to put up with to live in an affordable/centrally located neighborhood." Yes, most of these affordable areas are quite culturally rich, with people from all walks of life, making for a variable tapestry of human experience. You'll get to know the guy who runs the local bodega. You'll be familiar (even possibly friendly) with the homeless people that frequent your street corners. You'll get to experience trying to communicate with shopkeepers that don't speak your language. You'll be buying all kinds of non-FDA approved groceries with not a lick of English on the package. Fruit will come fresher. Stores will be intimate, and family-owned. You'll feel like you're a part of the neighborhood, more so than you would living somewhere "nicer." It can be, honestly, a very enriching experience.

But, on the down side living there can be loud, and intrusive...especially if you choose to live in an apartment complex (which you probably will). Most of your neighbors will be great...but the bad ones will be just horrible. You'll have to get used to hearing domestic disputes. Babies crying. Sirens. Low-flying helicopters. Loud cars. Dogs barking. You'll see lots of garbage in the streets. Stray cats. Rats. Broken glass. You'll experience uncaring landlords, and probably be living in old, run-down properties.

For some people, it's totally worth it. They can put on headphones. Turn up the TV. Patch up holes in the drywall. Get used to the smell of mold. And (generally) shut out the outside world (or learn to love it / live with it). It's entirely possible, because the outside world will absolutely leave you alone if you want it to.

People who don't mind this are the people who stayed in Youth Hostels when they visited Europe (instead of private rooms), or the people who lived in a house with eight other people in college. They're not bothered by the little inconveniences in life.

I envy those people, because I'm not one of them (and my wife even less so). I like quiet nights on the couch, and silence when I go to bed. I don't want to listen to the couple next door screaming at each other in Spanish (or Russian, or Armenian). I don't want my neighbor to be arrested by a SWAT team one night. I don't want to be bitten when I'm walking with my wife and a pit bull escapes from his enclosure. I could never tolerate the smell of garbage. And (like I mentioned earlier) I don't want to hear someone else's music. Ever.

So that's my take on that. If you're a quiet, unassuming suburban kid (like myself), you'll probably want to spend a little more to live in a nicer neighborhood. If you're urban, or in love with everything urban, then by all means...get thee to a _____ Park.

It's your call.


"Yo, Tyler," you speak using your mouth organ, "can I stay with you while I look for a place?"

Good question. No.

Coming to Los Angeles Part 2: Preparing to Prepare

Didn't scare you off, did I? Good. I didn't think I would. That's what I like about you -- your determination. Your drive. Hell, you've got spunk, kid...and I think you're really going to make it.

Because I hear you. You've made up your mind. You're going to roll the dice. Awesome. Follow your dreams. Carpe your diem. You won't know if you don't try. Fortune favors the brave. Veni vidi vici. Git 'er done. Only you can prevent forest fires. FREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEDOM!!!!!!!!

So get your ass over here. How? It's easy. Start heading west. When you hit an ocean, turn left and follow the coast. Before you know it, BOOM! You're in Los Angeles (note -- Hawaii and southern Florida...I'm sorry, it's impossible to get to California from your state. Sorry!).

But before you take that drastic step, let's talk about what you need to do before you leave. Because, believe it or not, some things are much cheaper and easier where you live than they are in Los Angeles, and I really want you to get your crap together before you move.

The first and most important thing you'll probably need is money. Unless you want to start working as soon as you arrive in Los Angeles (and where's the fun in that?), you'll probably want a nice little chunk of "starter cash."

How much? Well, let's break it down.

The first, and biggest chunk of your budget will probably go to rent. Now, I think the best thing to do is move down in a group, for a two reasons.

1) It's cheaper.
B) You've got a built-in support group.

My wife and I moved down with another couple, found a lovely little apartment in Silver Lake, and spent about $600 per month in rent. That was with 4 people, living in a nice two-bedroom apartment (with one bathroom). Another friend of mine found an apartment in a not-as-nice-but-still-fairly-good neighborhood in Glendale with a single roommate, and he spent about $800 a month. Another couple friend of ours found a one bedroom apartment in a not-very-good neighborhood in southern Glendale, and paid about $600 a month in rent.

So, depending on the amenities you need (laundry room, swimming pool, kitchen, refrigerator, running water), plan on spending anywhere from $500 up to $1000 per person for your basic Los Angeles "I'm-an-actor-so-I-live-in-squalor" apartment. You'll also need to plunk down money for a security deposit -- the standard rate is somewhere between one month's rent, up to double that. It's even more if you want to bring your puppy or kitty along for the ride (which I highly recommend -- you'll need all the support you can get).

For utilities, tack on anywhere from $100 to $300 (depending on whether you want internet, TV, land line, etc), $125 for gas (you'll be driving a lot), $300 for food, $20 for website subscriptions (we'll go over those later), and any other silly expenses you brought with you from home (credit cards, auto insurance, cell phones). After all is said and done, plan on spending anywhere from $1,000 to $3,000 per month to live in Los Angeles...again, all depending on how cheap you want to do it.

Not to mention you'll probably need new head shots (those black and white ones that your roommate took last year will not cut it...I don't care how talented he/she is, or how much positive feedback you got. You're going to need new ones), some acting classes, some irritating "enrollment fees" (I'll go over all of those later), and other unexpected expenses (I guarantee your car will break down in the first couple of months -- it's inevitable).

Now, ideally, you'd want to "not have a job" for at least the first six months after you finish your move. We'll go over why I recommend that later, but let's just say, to be safe, you save up about $10,000 to $20,000 for your move down, to comfortably weather the six month "adjustment period."

What that? You don't have that much money? Then you suck. Seriously, you suck. You'll never make it in this town. Might as well not even move if you don't have that much money laying around. Acting is only for the insanely wealthy, and if you're not insanely wealthy, you will fail. I promise.

Kidding. There are other, relatively easy ways of making a little bit of money that don't involve a full-time job (catering, background work, prostitution) that can supplement that initial investment without seriously cramping your availability for actual legitimate acting stuff...so not to fear. If you want to seriously rough it, you can probably make your move work for about $2,000 or so, but I wouldn't go much lower than that because you'd be making it very hard on yourself (hee hee). Los Angeles has enough lovely homeless folks roaming about the freeway off-ramps...we don't need any more.

But enough talk about money. We didn't become actors "for the money," did we? This is about ART dammit! Craft! Passion! We want to move people, make them weep, change the world through our elaborate game of "professional make-believe." Tell us what else we need to prepare!

Couple of things. First, if you can, try to get your SAG Eligibility (that stands for "Screen Actor's Guild", and it's an actor's union...in case you didn't know). Don't know what SAG Eligibility is? Don't worry...we can take care of that when you move down. But whatever you do:

DO NOT JOIN SAG

Did I get your attention? Did you see the big pretty red letter? No? Then I'll reiterate: do not join SAG. I'll explain why later, but basically, you'll be massively hampering your ability to get gigs when you move here, and since you're inexperienced, you're unlikely to book the sweet "union" jobs anyway. By all means, become "Eligible" to join SAG, but do not pay that $2,000+ enrollment until you absolutely have to.

Another thing to do before you leave is: learn how to act. I know, seems like a no-brainer...but it's honestly not as important as people might think, which is why I moved it down the list. Personally, I spent my whole first year in Los Angeles trying to get my head around the concept of "not acting." This was after having spent the previous 2 years as an honest-to-God professional stage actor in Seattle.

"Pish," you say. "Acting is acting is acting." Good. I said the same thing. But do me a favor. Take a single "reaction" that you gave on stage (the bigger the house, the better)...maybe something you did that got a laugh every night...or moved audience members to tears. Now, take that same reaction and film it -- you don't even have to do it in a super close-up. Just a normal, medium shot. Then watch it back. You see? You didn't do it, did you? Well...you've been warned.

If any of your "acting reactions" are the least bit presentational, they will look incredibly forced on camera, and you'll be exposed as the novice you are. If you "project" with your voice, you'll blow out the audio and it'll sound terrible. Anything you do that would get a laugh from someone 50 feet away will look horribly fake when put on film.

But that's not to say "You're fine. You don't need to know how to act. Just wing it." Because you really ought to know something about acting before you go. If you can, find a local, reputable acting school and take a few classes (but be fully prepared to dismiss a good portion of the instruction you receive, since not all acting teachers are actually good at their job).

As for what classes to take...if you know the difference between Stanislavski and Strasburg, then I'd recommend taking some specialized "film acting" classes. If you don't know the difference between Meisner and Method Acting, then you should take some regular old "acting classes."

Of course, you don't have to go crazy -- like I say, learning to act is not totally essential before you go, because there are lots of classes here, and some of the classes in your home town might be terrible, as well as a waste of time and money. But it helps to have an understanding of the basics so you're not totally clueless when you get here.

I mean, you wouldn't be the first person to watch someone on TV and think "Eh, that's not so hard. I could do that." There 7 billion people on earth who think the same thing; and they're not wrong. Thinking "I could do that" is not a revelation, so please don't ever say it. "Doing that" is not the hard part; "booking that" is the hard part. Anyone could deliver a single line in a movie convincingly, given enough coaching and takes, but very few people could go out and actually book that bastard based on their acting merits alone.

But I don't want to go into that too much now -- I'll cover "what classes to take" and "what to do when you book something" later on. You can worry about that when you get here.

Other preparations? I don't know...you'll probably want a car (public transportation is doable, but it's still really crappy compared to every other big city in the US). Think about where you want to live (that'll be the subject of my next blog), and who you want to live with.

And finally, just think about it. You sure you want to do this? I mean, you're probably not going to be successful, and even if you are, it'll probably take years of you earning no money, and just sitting on your ass waiting for the phone to ring (and it won't).

So, I'll ask again, are absolutely you're sure you want to do this?

Yes?

Okay. Good. You passed the test. I said it before, and I meant it; I like you, kid. You've definitely got "it." Now, get down here, and parlay that "it" into massive fame and fortune, you lucky little bastard. Damn straight -- this is you, buddy:

Coming to Los Angeles Part 1: Managing Expectations

So, you've decided to move to Los Angeles to pursue your movie career, eh? Sweet! I'm proud of you. You've officially become a cliché. Might as well get used to it now.

Not that there's anything wrong with that. Hell, I did the same damn thing in 2008, knowing full well that I was following in the hallowed footsteps of previous millions of deluded souls. "But I'm going to be different," I thought...which is the same thing that every actor thought when they moved.

Am I different? Well, I'm certainly older now, definitely much wiser, and while I'm not a household name, I think I've done fairly well for myself. I'm proud of my accomplishments. Could I have accomplished more? Sure. Did I miss opportunities? Oh hell yes. Tons. Did I play far too many video games when I should have been writing scripts or practicing my craft? Absolutely. But everyone makes mistakes. Everyone procrastinates. Everyone wastes time. It's inevitable. You will too...I promise...and if you let it get you down, it'll break you.

The important thing to remember is that the odds are against you. I know you've heard that before, and you'll hear that many more times from many different people...but it's a very important lesson. In all likelihood, you're not going to achieve the success you dream about, and think you deserve. You're not. Quiet that "BUT I'M DIFFERENT" voice for a second and just let that sink it. It's very unlikely. Not only will you not be cast in movies and TV shows, you won't even be able to audition for them. In fact, you won't even be able to see the agents who could possibly send you to those auditions. You'll be shut out, with no one to help you in a cold, uncaring world. It's unfair, and if you don't like it, you really out to look into another line of work.

In fact, your quest to even get into a big theatrical casting director's office (one that casts prime time TV shows or big budget movies) could easily take years. That's "years" with an "s." Not weeks. Not months. Years. Multiple years. It took me a year and a half. Some of my friends are still trying.

Don't believe me? Look at the IMDb profile of your favorite celebrity. Who is it? Brad Pitt? He moved to Los Angeles in 1986. He worked odd jobs, had a few "background" gigs in 1987, had a short recurring role on Dallas in 1988, got a few more TV roles in 1989 & 1990, then in 1991 he did Thelma & Louise. And the rest is history. What does it mean? It took Brad Pitt, one of the most famous actors in Hollywood, five years to get his first substantial role. Five. And he's Brad Pitt. You? You're not Brad Pitt. You might think you are, but you're not...I promise. It's going to be a thankless, tedious, trying journey...no matter what your background is.

So that's the reality. Of course, things were different in the 1990s. Everyone was coked up, a studio actually greenlit the hit movie "Stop or my Mom will Shoot", and if you were persistent enough, you were rewarded with at least some kind of look from some studio executive who wanted to discover the "next Brad Pitt."

Now, things are different. Everyone thinks that if they're tenacious, hardworking, and super-duper talented, they can get their foot in the door. But you can't any more. The myth of the "actor discovered at a grocery store" is just that. A myth. Utter fabrication, and Hollywood Legend. Even the supremely untalented (but gorgeous) stars that started very young, like Denise Richards (graduated from a Los Angeles high school in 1989, did Starship Troopers in 1997) or Paul Walker (graduated from a Los Angeles high school in 1991, did Fast and the Furious in 2001) worked at their careers for almost a decade before their "big break."

So if you think you'll be starring in a sitcom, or a big-budget movie within a year of moving to Los Angeles...I hate to break it to you, but you're wrong. You'd have better luck just investing that money you'd be wasting during the move in lottery tickets, then producing your own TV show with the earnings. I mean, sure, there are examples of overnight success...but usually it's an illusion (overnight success actually takes years of thankless work), or it's incredibly short-lived (this is where most child actors reside, unfortunately). But in both cases, it no doubt involves a tremendous amount of hard work (or dumb luck) on the part of the actor.

I personally witnessed two stories of actors who had immediate success when they moved down to Los Angeles, followed by a whole lot of frustration. One is a friend my wife and I met at a casting director workshop named Joane. When she moved here, within two months she'd booked a costar role (industry term for "small television role with limited screen time") on the show Criminal Minds. Two years later? Criminal Minds is still her one only legitimate credit.

Another one is from a friend-of-a-friend named Nastassja. She moved to Los Angeles, and my friend asked me to send an e-mail with advice. Later, our friend informed us, "Looks like she didn't need your advice after all; she booked a TV show." Come to find out that, lo and behold, she'd booked a costar role on Criminal Minds within weeks of arriving (TIP: familiarize yourself with the casting associate of Criminal Minds -- his name is Scott David, and if he's ever teaching a casting workshop near you, you would be well-advised to take it...because he will call you in to audition if he likes you, regardless of whether you have an agent and/or any credits...which makes him very rare). However, a year-and-a-half later, Criminal Minds is still Nastassja's only legitimate TV or film credit.

Whereas my wife Erika, God bless her, worked her tail off for two years...taking casting workshops, getting headshots, sending out mailings, interning, doing theater, doing everything in her power to get into the room. And she did, eventually. She had several auditions for several different shows, but did not book them. Finally, two years after she arrived in Los Angeles, she booked a costar on The Mentalist, for a casting director she'd seen a year prior to that audition.

Every actor has a different path to success. You might get lucky like Joane and Nastassja...or you might finally break through after years of toil like Erika. Or you might not get any auditions at all, years after you arrived in LA. Everyone's different, and you can't expect any kind of success. Hope for it, want it, prepare for it, work for it...but don't expect it.

Now I hope you don't think I'm just being bitter. "Mehrgh, I didn't have success, so you won't either! BEHHHHH!!!" I'm not. I promise. I'm quite happy with the level of success I've achieved. Would I like to achieve more success? Of course. But I'm being realistic, which can easily be mistaken for "pessimistic." There are a whole lot of people who think they can achieve their dreams and goals solely through stubbornness and sheer force of will. There's a whole industry of self-help books that tell you this, over and over and over and over. Don't get me wrong -- all of those things are very helpful, but they will not be enough for you to make it in Los Angeles...because there are literally a million actors who feel the same way, read the same books, and are actually more stubborn than you are. And you'll find out that only a tiny fraction of them actually achieve all of their lofty goals. A tiny, tiny, tiny fraction.

I don't say this to discourage you. Trust me, I'm your biggest fan (because you're reading the words I've written). I just want to honestly prepare you for just a small piece of the professional disappointment, heartache, and frustration that will surely greet you when you land in Los Angeles. You will experience it too. Everyone experiences it, from the hugest failure, to the most surprising success story. And whatever your expectations are, lower them. Even if you think they're very modest, lower them. Sure, go ahead and set lofty goals for yourself; that's fine. But don't expect to meet any of them soon.

But don't take my word for it. Let the Piano Man limit your expectations in his own magically musical way:

You got your passion you got your pride
But don't you know that only fools are satisfied?
Dream on but don't imagine they'll all come true
When will you realize
Vienna waits for you

The Time I was Almost on a Game Show: Part 1

When I moved to L.A., I had a fool-proof plan.

I was going to audition for "every game show" out there. And I was going to get on those game shows, because I think I'm smart (I'm not), and people generally like me (they don't). If I could just get on one...one tiny little show, I'd be set (to the tune of, at least, several thousand dollars).

It was foolproof.

And I got close a couple of times. I auditioned for "Are you Smarter than a 5th Grader." Apparently, I'm not (fifth graders know that "yellow" plus "red" equals "orange," not "purple").

I also tried out for the show "Don't Forget the Lyrics." Apparently, my audition was pretty damn forgettable (they made fun of me for wanting to give most of my money away to my family...jerks).

However, eventually I did appear on a game show.

Well, kinda'.

I'll explain.

A little over a year ago I saw a "audition notice" for a show called "The Singing Bee." I was all, "Hey, I can sing! And I frigging LOVE bees!" So, I sent in my details, and promptly forgot about it.

Lo and behold, a week later, some casting intern wrote back, asking me if I'd be available to come and audition...at beautiful CBS Radford Studios (a place I'd been, probably, about a dozen times already, for background work).

So I show up, sign in, and take a seat in a vast "underground cafeteria-looking room." It was filled with tables and chairs -- in front of each chair was a nice little "release form," and a free pen (free-ish). I took a seat next to a scary-looking young couple who smelled like cigarettes, gasoline fumes, and meth lab.

It was here that I found out that the show was being produced by the Country Music Channel, and that the song-mix was going to be about 60% country, 40% everything else.


Shit.


I hate country music.


Oh well. I'll gave it the ol' "sporting try." I figured, maybe there'd be a lot of Johnny Cash and Dixie Chicks.

Did I say "Dixie Chicks?" I meant Merle Haggard. Yeah.

So, the concept of the show was basically "Don't Forget the Lyrics," except, instead of Wayne Brady, there was some woman from the show Reba. And instead of "good music," there was a bunch of crappy country music.

My task was to take a "lyrics test." This is...exactly what you think it is. A bunch of song lyrics, with "blanks" to be filled in.

I did my level best, and handed over my sheet of paper. There were, maybe, about 90 people in this first room...and I thought that maybe a third of them were "country music fans," so that was the third that was going to be kept...while I'd be given a "better luck next time" by the 20-somethings who seemed to be in charge of casting the show.

True to their word, there was a lot of "good music" mixed in with the country...and a lot of the country songs were things that I'd heard. But there was also a crap-ton of wild guessing.

After everyone had completed the test, we sat around as the the tests were graded. They read off the list of those who'd be advancing to the next round of the interview process (a group of 24).

They started reading the names...and...well, because you're reading this blog entry, you probably guessed that I was one of those 24 names.

Cool.

What now?

Well, I'll tell you.

They split us into three groups (of 8) for a camera test, where we'd get to play a pared-down version of the show. I was in group #1, which was nice, because I was hungry...and going first meant I could get something to eat sooner.

The casting folks took us into another room, lined us up against the wall, and executed each of us with a single bullet to the back of the head.

Wait, whoops. Sorry. Let me try that again. They lined us up against a wall and asked us a series of questions, drawing information from one of the sheets that we filled out earlier. That's right. Sorry, I got confused.

My turn came up.

"Hi, what's your name?"

"Tyler Rhoades."

"And Tyler, do you listen to country music?"

"All the time."

"Who is your favorite country singer?"

Pause.

"Oh, y'know. Johnny Cash. He's incredible."

"It says here that you're a Paula Abdul fan?"

"Yes. I frigging love Paula Abdul." (I don't, but I thought it'd be funny)

"Could we just get you to say that directly into the camera?" Apparently they'd been talking over the part where I said that...so they made me dance like a monkey. I was happy to oblige.

"I...frigging....love....Paula....Abdul."

"What do you like about her?"

Pause.

"I had her poster on the wall," (another lie). "It was the one where she was wearing a kind of leather cap, and..." (I imitated the imaginary poster, to the delight of the interviewers) "Just all the metal and leather. It was a pretty amazing poster."

"And can you tell us one interesting thing about you?"

Pause.

"I've been using Rogaine for the last three years, and my scalp has never been more luscious and full than it is now."

Laughter. Couldn't tell if it was polite or not. But...laughter is laughter, right? Self-deprecation FTW.

Anyways, they worked their way down the line, interviewing those other poor saps, and then the "game show" part of the interview started.

They had a laptop set up, preloaded with songs. They'd play a bit of the song, then stop it. If you knew the lyrics, you'd raise your hand. They'd call on you. Then you'd step forward and "sing the hell out of the missing lyrics," whether you were accurate or not. Because they reminded us, you don't have to be a great singer, just really animated and interesting.

If you were right, they'd ding a bell. If you were wrong, they'd push the button on a buzzer.

The game started. Nobody scored on the first song. Probably just early jitters. I didn't even try.

Next song started:

My heroes had the heart
To lose their lives out on a limb
And all I remember
Is thinking, I want to be like them...

Uh oh. Gnarles Barkley. Crap. I can't understand the guy most of the time, but I like the song. Maybe I can snag this one.

Ever since I was little
Ever since I was little
It looked like fun

And the music stopped.

I raised my hand.

They called on me.

I stepped forward.

I was told to wait until the camera got a close-up of me. Then I was supposed to say my name.

"Tyler Rhoades."

"Okay. Go ahead."

"And it's no coincidence I've come
And I can die when I'm done"

DING!!!

Thank God that happened...because that part of the song always confused me. It doesn't really make sense grammatically. Though, who am I to criticize the great Gnarles?

And luckily for me, this part kinda' played to my strength as a singer -- I could give 'er a little "rock growl," without having to get too high, or sound too pretty. The casting folks looked sufficiently surprised, and impressed.

We continued on. I think I got two or three more songs right (pretty sure one of them was a Phil Collins song). Which, among the group of 8, made me the highest scorer.

Needless to say, I felt pretty good about that second part of the audition. I mean...I think they sensed that I wasn't quite the "country music" fan that I pretended to be...but I have what my wife likes to call "A Surprisingly Good Voice." Which sounds like a back-handed compliment until you get a good look at me...then it makes sense.

So a week or two later, I got a call from one of the casting folks. They wanted me to come in to do a "trial run" of the show for producers, writers, network execs, and the host of the show (that woman from Reba).

I agreed. And thought, "Aw, dammit. I've got to listen to a bunch of country music now, don't I?" So, I logged into CMT.com and forced myself to sit through the worst genre of music ever conceived -- young country.

Ick.

TO BE CONTINUED (and hyper-linked...eventually) IN PART 2!!!

Me. Acting.

Hi, stranger. I'm an actor. Don't believe me? I can't say that I blame you...I have a hard time believing it myself. For instance, did you know that I'm in a cubicle right now? That's right...I should be "on set" somewhere, but instead, I'm typing this out on a computer in a cubicle in a big ol' office building (which is, admittedly, on the Disney Studio lot...but that would just ruin my point, wouldn't it?).

Anyhow, I do act. And, if you want proof, here it is. Me. Acting.

First off, here's my only "national" credit (technically "international"...but Ireland is a nation too, right?). This is from a Sprite commercial I did in 2007. I'm at 0:14, tied to a chair, being menaced by a hair dryer.


Here's another commercial I did in Seattle, for the company MasterPark. I play the dad.


This was a commercial for Powell Electric. I play the "stupid irate guy who went with the wrong electrician."


This was a commercial I did for the Puyallup Fair (for you non-Seattle natives, it's pronounced "pyoo-AL-up). I play the slobbery blubbering crybaby. Sorry that the video resolution is so low, but I'm not sorry for the high quality of the crying sound effects.


I did this scene reading for an IF.net contest. I didn't win. But I got the rare opportunity to seduce me on-camera...so that was nice.


These next three were one of the first things I did in Los Angeles. It was a promotional video for Wizard World, which is a kind of cut-rate Comic-Con.


Here's our 2008 entry in the 48 Hour Film Project. I played a grandmother-loving, MMORPG-playing, potato-salad fanatic named Milt.


Here's my first project with the great Mark Tapio Kines. I don't remember my character's name, but he is, apparently, someone's boyfriend. You see me about a minute in.

I took a turn for some serious, heavy drama in this little self-produced joint called "Stray Doug," produced by our good friend at GadZook films. I play Doug. As for the premise? Well...you'll see...



Finally, here's my second (most recent) short film, written and directed by Mark. I play Ron...who is a bit of a freak.

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.

So, Tyler, How'd You Get Into Acting? (Part 1: The Early Years)

At least, that's what I imagine it'd sound like next time I get booked on a talk show. After a couple of ice-breaker questions, some laughs, some platitudes, maybe a funny sketch or two, the host will lean in inquisitively and...inquire, "So Tyler, how'd did you get into acting?"

And because that'll probably never happen, I've decided to answer that fantasy question on my fantasy blog, and give the answer out to my incredibly limited readership. Enjoy, you lovely bastards.

Well, fantasy interviewer, that's a great question! Honestly, I'd tongue-kiss you if I could, but you're not real. Used to be I'd tell people, "My mom got me into acting when I was 9." And that's mostly true, because if she hadn't dragged me to a community theater audition of "The Music Man," I probably would have spent my high school years as just another faceless "band geek," as opposed to blurry-faced "band and drama geek."

But truth be told, Music Man wasn't the absolute start for me. See, I'd been interested in acting as far back as preschool. My very first "performance" was when I was cast as a leapfrog in my preschool Christmas Program, along with my best friend Eric. I was pretty stoked to be working with some very talented people, on a project that I really believed in. Also, I was glad that I'd stopped peeing my pants two years earlier, making the whole endeavor possible...

But unfortunately I never got to perform as the leapfrog. During one of the rehearsals, I "leaped" a little too enthusiastically and severely strained a ligament in my neck. I had to miss the Program, and I was couch-ridden for a week. That was the first and last time I ever suffered a serious "actor-related injury" (no small feat, since I've seen broken bones, torn ligaments, a seizure, concussions, and countless cuts and bruises since that time).

But everyone does those goofy Christmas Pageant shows...it's not like I had a choice in the matter. I didn't have any dark, sticky artistic blood pulsing through my veins...it was just the regular, boring red kind. Heck, I was far more interested in sports than any of that "creative" junk.

My first brush with actual, honest-to-God "acting" was complements of Mrs. Trull (yes...she was mean, and yes, we did call her Mrs. Troll, and yes, she's probably dead now) who was my 1st grade Music Teacher. The school was doing a production of "Hansel and Gretel" at an assembly, and two kids from each class were picked to portray the titular roles (hee hee). The rest of the class performed "dances" during the scene changes. It was some pretty heady, artistic stuff. I was cast as one of the Hansels, along with 11 other dudes from the other classes. I don't remember the audition, but it probably involved "reading the script." Obviously, I nailed it.

Anyway, since the roles were duodecuple-cast (yes, it's a word), each Hansel and Gretel was given a short scene to memorize and perform. During the actual performance, when the current H&G finished their scene, a new "Hansel and Gretel" would walk on stage, tap the current iterations of themselves on the shoulder, then take their place on stage. I have video of this. I could tell, even back then, that it was pretty hokey. "Why not come up with a reason for each actor to walk off stage?" I asked myself silently. No one heard my protests...because I didn't vocalize them. But I do remember having a problem with the direction of the piece, which I consider awfully advanced for my undersized 7 year old brain.

Hansel and Gretel also involved my first on-stage romantic interest: Elizabeth Chittick. I didn't like her, but I think she liked me (ah...the story of my life). She was notable for living up the street from me, owning a Teddy Ruxpin doll, and for the one time I kicked her fingers through a chain-link fence...which got me sent to the Principal's office. I tell you...I'm good with the ladies. Always have been, always will be.


Elizabeth and I...can't you just taste the chemistry?

But I think my most important "pre-Music Man" introduction to acting was thanks to one Sue Jackson, 2nd grade teacher. Sue Jackson was a recent divorcee, in her early 40s, with two grown children. She was a first-year teacher at the school, and I remember that we did not get along very well at first...mostly because I was a bit of an impudent know-it-all (some things never change).

Ms. Jackson was the first teacher I had who focused heavily on "the arts." We'd write stories in her class. We'd put on plays (that we performed for the 3rd graders in the next room over). We'd paint. We'd write poetry. All of that ninny froo-froo stuff that, for some reason, I was actually pretty good at.

It was in this class that I found my love for acting and writing. Funny...but sometimes you get a teacher early-on that sparks an interest in something you do for the rest of your life...and Sue Jackson really got me interested in acting. But sometimes you get a teacher who tries to enlist your services as a hit man. Or tries to sleep with you. Luck of the draw, I guess.

But Ms. Jackson put us in charge of rehearsing and producing the shows (with props, costumes, sets, etc.). We did several productions, including a short play about The Easter Bunny (I portrayed the Easter Bunny)...and another play about a family at Christmas (I played "Grandpa"). And a play about a princess who was upset about a broken heart (the twist at the end: the "broken heart" was actually a heart-shaped cake that had broken in two...not a metaphorical "broken heart". Who writes this stuff!!!!???!?!?).

It was in that last show that I had my first brush with acting like a "super-diva." I had three roles in the show: The Duke, The Messenger, and The Cook. The first two were fairly big parts, but the last one was a walk-on at the very end, with no lines (where the cook silently brings the "broken" cake out for the big punchline).

A week before we were going to perform the show, Ms. Jackson informed me that she wanted one of the other students (Erin, a shy girl that I had a major crush on) to play the cook. And I....was....devastated. Furious. I cried like an 8 year old. I threw a fit. It was unfair. How DARE she give my role away! Gaaaah!!! (once again, affirming my status as "God's gift to the ladies")

But I got over it, after Ms. Jackson and my mom talked some sense into me. So I gave up the role, and felt some well-deserved diva-shame.

Apparently Ms. Jackson still teaches at Arrowhead. Huh. Guess I didn't scare her away after all...

After my time in Ms. Jackson's class was finished, my lovely mother started me on the "community theater" circuit. In the 3rd grade I was cast as Winthrop Paroo in The Music Man at Shoreline Community Theatre. In the 4th grade I was cast as Tiny Tim in A Christmas Carol at The Driftwood Players. In the 5th grade I was cast as The Page in Amahl and the Night Visitors at King'sPlayers Theater. And in the 6th grade I didn't do any acting...because I was "artistically exhausted." That, and I wanted more time to play video games, because I'd just got a Nintendo...and playing it was a fairly high priority at the time.


My heart-felt rendition of "Wells Fargo Wagon," years before
they invented the bank.

But in the summer between 6th and 7th grade my mother signed me up for a class run by a theatre in Issaquah called "Village Theatre." The class was taught by a woman named Megan Hunt, who was the daughter of the executive producer of the theater, Robb Hunt. It was that class that transformed my love of acting from something of an "idle curiosity to pass the time" to a "possible future career." And I'll tell you all about it...in my next blog post. Consider yourself "teased."