I used to thrive in a new environment - learninga new city, a new character, a new cast all at once. Makingfast friends. Now, I find out-of-townwork wearisome and less rewarding than it used to be.
Editor’s Note: As the entertainment industry evolves, many working actors are navigating a landscape that is simultaneously more accessible and more competitive. This essay captures what that shift feels like from the inside.
Ah. There is something worse than no auditions.
Last week, I was asked to put myself on tape for a reputable regional theater. I was initially trepidatious. I used to thrive in a new environment - learning a new city, a new character, a new cast all at once. Making fast friends. Now, I find out-of-town work wearisome and less rewarding than it used to be. Housing is frequently subpar, often outfitted with the detritus of a donor’s mother’s guest house. I once worked at a theater that provided five spatulas, but no skillet.
Another time, I was given roughly four hundred wire hangers, but no drinking glasses or mugs. Over the years, I learned to pack a decent kit: a good pillow, a good knife, spices, and ever since the Spatula Incident, a good skillet. I was happy doing that for many years. But the luster has worn away as I’ve become less forgiving of lack of effort.
The Work Has Changed—Even If theCraft Hasn’t
Though initially hesitant about this opportunity, summer prospects have looked bleak. I accepted the self-tape. I spent the next three days drilling lines, doing scene work, designing my makeup and wardrobe to suit the character. By the morning Erika came over to help me self-tape, I had built an inner world I enjoyed and wanted to explore more. I was proud of my submission. So was my manager.
I’d begun to think of this as a job I might actually enjoy. It would be good to work out of town again, with a reputable director, on material I’ve never worked on before. What new thing might I discover? In the past, out-of-town work did wonders for my perspective. And maybe that’s what I need right now, as I’ve been stewing in my perimenopausal, mid-career angst - a change of perspective.
Also, it’s been a minute since my last Off-Broadway show. I feel like I might be a very different person in the rehearsal room now - less fastidious, in a good way. I’ve always been a collaborator, fairly easy to work with, but there were times I was willing to die on a hill for a comedy bit or particular staging. I’m not there anymore. Ifsomething’s not working, let’s cut it. I’m no longer precious about my ideas, but I’ll still throw them in the ring. Now, being in the room where it happens is enough. Making something out of nothing with fellow clowns and creatives is plenty.
I’d like to get to know who I am now in a process, within a company.
And with that realization came excitement and hope. And nerves. If invited for a callback, I wanted as much time as possible to drill lines, and deepen the work. Two days after submitting, I asked my manager to give casting a call, to ask if I was still in the mix. I woke the next morning to a message: a television star - the lead of a very innovative and exciting show several years ago - had accepted the role I’d just taped for.
When Opportunity Becomes Volume
I’m not a big crier. Ironic, since part of my wheelhouse as an actor is the ability to erupt into blubbering when called for. But when I got that text, I cried. Not full disintegration. Just staring at the ceiling, six or seven tears hitting my pillow.
Why this job in particular?
This opportunity had given me hope. I had a glimmer of returning to something I love so dearly while also discovering something new about myself. And the promise of collaboration, my favorite kind of art to make.
The Disappearing Middle of the Industry
Rejection isn’t new. But it’s hard to ignore how the industry has recently shifted. A-List movie stars are doing Off-Broadway theater and TV. Companies are truncating their seasons, reducing cast sizes. The middle class actor has fewer opportunities. Self-tapes are now so ubiquitous and easily asked for, instead of auditioning alongside 30 other actors for a role, I may be one of 300. There’s simply less work than there was even ten years ago.
The structure of opportunity itself has changed.
I appreciate that I can audition on tape when on vacation - I no longer have to live with the anxiety of missing out on opportunities while not in NYC. However, that ease also means the field is flooded in a way it wasn’t before. I’m feeling disoriented, navigating a profession that is simultaneously more accessible and more competitive.
Evolving or Walking Away
I suppose I can always say no more. I can always close this chapter, and explore another, hopefully more lucrative path. Or, I can evolve with the industry. Keep throwing my ideas in the ring. Relish the freedoms the new system allows while accepting the odds are even less in my favor.
Still, it hurts, finding ways to move forward and possibly away from a great love, from something I’m good at, someplace I’ve enjoyed some success, someplace I’ve met the best people. But maybe these are growing pains. I’m hoping to soon hear some wisdom from that quiet inner voice. In the meantime, I’ll have to wait just a bit longer to meet whoever I am now in the rehearsal room…
Maybe the question isn’t just who I am in the rehearsal room now—but what the rehearsal room itself has become.
And for many artists, that question is no longer theoretical. It’s structural.
This piece is part of Clotine’s ongoing exploration of work, identity, and ownership in a changing creative economy.
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