How do You Handle Rejection? Not with Kid Gloves.

Why did I choose the professions I chose? Am I a glutton for punishment? Working as an actress in New York and LA, the rejections come fast and furious. It means you're out there, you have a chance at landing that agent, that role, that spot. There is plenty of time to protect yourself before you get serious and throw your hat squarely in the ring, but once you do, you're in it baby, and I found I was spent more time vying for the jobs than I did working them. The good news there is that it is a numbers game and when you're moving that fast you don't have time to worry about what you've lost, you're on to something else.
When I moved from Hollywood to Denver years ago, I had a small child and plenty to keep me occupied: Hot Wheels, zoo trips and Dr. Seuss. The two years before relocating I'd lost both of my parents and became a mother. During the pregnancy and grief, I lost the taste for the game of having to be "picked" in order to do what I do. I am well trained, talented and ambitious; the spinning plates of self-esteem seemed somewhat crazy, after all you are the same person whether they 'pick' you or not. Nothing is diminished, you just don't have the gig.
Becoming a writer, and more specifically a playwright has shifted the power. Now I get to experience the joy of creating first, sharing it with others when I'm ready. The trick here is discernment, knowing when you're ready and whom to share with. Public readings can be brutal if you don't know what you want from an empowered audience and when you ask people to come and listen to a work in progress, that's just what you do. After you've poured out your imperfect soul, you sit in a hot seat and ASK for them to tell you what is wrong with your baby. Crazy, huh? But it is part of the process. It used to be that scripts were nurtured and pruned in a writer/director collaboration with a trusted group of actors brought in as needed. Not so much anymore. Everyone's in the game; an entourage of opinions, insights and yes, rejection marches into your quiet little writer's world. Add to this, my career as a Realtor and... let's just say it's a wonder I'm not medicated.
I find that most of the "rejection" I face on a weekly, if not daily, basis can be handled with one of two strategies. A.) Take a nap. And B.)Downsize.
A.) Allows for the idea that I may be exhausted. Putting yourself out there on the page or in front of people is an immense output of energy. With two sons, two careers, three cats and a social life, the chances are that I'm not putting in much regenerative time. This could mean that a power nap or a meditation to bring me back to center may be all I need to "suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune."
B.) Is a shift in perspective. Is whatever I'm experiencing right now big enough to make me stop doing what I want to do? Usually not. Even that "Big Thing" doesn't have more power than my passion. I learned a long time ago to ask myself "Would I do this, even if I am only mediocre? Would I do this without the 'Big Break'? Do I love this enough to do it for myself and the pleasure it gives me?" I can answer yes to all three questions. So when I downsize the situation, looking at it from the context of the whole, it is usually very small. It stings, but scraping my knees when I wiped out on my Stingray never made me sell the bike.
Rejection will always be there if you are brave enough to take risks in your life. Discovering the greatest risks from the deepest part of yourself and taking them bring far greater rewards than the temporary feeling of emptiness or unworthiness that not being "picked" can slap you with. Swimming in the deep end gives you an opportunity to face those feelings and release them as false assumptions and outmoded conditioning. They will pass.
So rather than treat myself with a kid glove approach, I throw down the gauntlet and go face to face with the fears, the feedback and the fuckers who stand in my way.

DEATH, FACEBOOK & THE NTC: close one door, open another

I have a feeling that except for my inner circle, most of the people who know me will learn of my death on Facebook. I’ve heard of two such loses this week as the Denver theatre community bids farewell to two beloveds. First it was Renye, a much loved artist who fell to cancer and days later the death knell of the National Theatre Conservatory. The one is inexplicable, the other begs for answers and I, the optimist, believe there is re-birth at hand.
The NTC was former Denver Center Artistic Director Donovan Marley’s baby; his vision for sustaining the future of the American Theatre through the impeccable training of the actor. It brought much to the then fledgling Theatre Company and far more through the years. Having bright young talent in our midst has kept us young and connected to why we began our own journeys in this profession. The impact the alumni have had on the world of and beyond Denver is impressive; I’m blessed to have known so many of them.
From the outside this feels like a drastic step. But in the post 911 years I’ve watched the adjustments made to production budgets, the job cuts and their duties consolidated in an effort to keep the Conservatory alive within a difficult economic climate. Though I cannot explain their decision, I am certain that the “Powers That Be” within the DCPA considered the options carefully before slashing this jewel. Like many have noted and all of us hope, perhaps with the National Charter, it may find rebirth.
As a Realtor in this market, I know that change is constant and things in the Denver theatre community have changed. Under the vision of Artistic Director Kent Thompson a new nurturance of artistic talent is taking place at the DCTC as the New Play Summit bears witness. I am not sure it’s fair to say that the future of the American Theatre is enriched more by investing in acting talent than in writing talent, for the nurturance of artistic voice and vision further our society regardless of the medium. God knows I’m not in favor of closing the NTC, but let’s not take our eyes off of the good that IS happening here. A fearless and risky commitment to the development of new plays is nothing to sniff at. In fact, finding new stories and discovering new ways to tell them is surely the best way to ensure the health of the theatre and the employment of all of its artists.
For years I heard an endless drone of white noise grousing about how the Denver Center was hermetically sealed to local talent, but that too has changed. Through the efforts of Mr. Thompson, Bruce Sevy and former DCTC casting director Sylvia Gregory among others, many talented Denver actors have been seen in plays and employed by the Center in the past few years. A great deal more interest has been paid to our talent pool and I believe that we’ll see more.
So rather than seeing only loss and feeling anger, perhaps we should stay focused on the gifts we’ve been given and the rebirth ahead; for Renye, and for the NTC. And if you hear of my untimely demise via Facebook, keep the wise cracks to a minimum. Or better yet, keep ‘em comin’.