Audition in review
Tonight I had an audition for a big comedy festival and now I remember very keenly why I stopped doing these kinds of things a number of years ago.
The person I auditioned for is also a scout for a network late-night television show. There were 14 of us auditioning tonight. Everyone totally rocked. I was so pleased with my performance. I felt strong and really there.
After the show was over, I went to gladhand the man I auditioned for. He told me that he thinks my comedy is too much here (pointing to head) and not enough here (pointing to stomach). Too much poise and not enough gut, he said. I need to bring more of myself to the stage. I'm funny, he said, and he thinks he'll be seeing more of me, just not right now.
I asked him if he had specific advice about what I can do to improve. He said I just have to keep working. And he kept saying that I have to bring more of myself to the stage.
I am open to constructive criticism. I really and truly am. But I wasn't prepared to be told that I wasn't bringing myself to the stage because I feel that I am all I bring to the stage. In fact, I was once challenged by someone to bring less of myself to the stage and to be funny without being personal and I couldn't. I don't know how to do that. Whatever.
So afterwards, everyone went down to the second floor to chat and hang around, but I found I was unable to stay. I tried, but I ended up crying in front of a couple people, which was embarrassing since everyone else seemed like they were totally fine.
I pulled myself together and went to talk to Rick, told him what I had been told, etc., and he said, "I love you. You're great. I believe in you." So I had to cry and rush out. Which was lame, but I really preferred to cry in the relative privacy of my car and not in a bar where there was karaoke and general barroom insanity.
So I did. And then we hit the road.
Of course, now it's a few hours later and I've got a little distance and I know that one guy doesn't get to decide that I don't bring myself to the stage. I think he's full of it. And I have to remember how happy I was with my set after it was over. I realy felt good about it. Also I'm happy I have some shows coming up so that I don't have an opportunity to feel mopey and sad about it. I just have to get back on the horse.
And I also think I have to do more of these types of auditions so that the rejection doesn't feel so personal. I don't know how to make it feel less personal since I lay my personal life right out there on the stage. I guess I'm just going to have to learn.
The person I auditioned for is also a scout for a network late-night television show. There were 14 of us auditioning tonight. Everyone totally rocked. I was so pleased with my performance. I felt strong and really there.
After the show was over, I went to gladhand the man I auditioned for. He told me that he thinks my comedy is too much here (pointing to head) and not enough here (pointing to stomach). Too much poise and not enough gut, he said. I need to bring more of myself to the stage. I'm funny, he said, and he thinks he'll be seeing more of me, just not right now.
I asked him if he had specific advice about what I can do to improve. He said I just have to keep working. And he kept saying that I have to bring more of myself to the stage.
I am open to constructive criticism. I really and truly am. But I wasn't prepared to be told that I wasn't bringing myself to the stage because I feel that I am all I bring to the stage. In fact, I was once challenged by someone to bring less of myself to the stage and to be funny without being personal and I couldn't. I don't know how to do that. Whatever.
So afterwards, everyone went down to the second floor to chat and hang around, but I found I was unable to stay. I tried, but I ended up crying in front of a couple people, which was embarrassing since everyone else seemed like they were totally fine.
I pulled myself together and went to talk to Rick, told him what I had been told, etc., and he said, "I love you. You're great. I believe in you." So I had to cry and rush out. Which was lame, but I really preferred to cry in the relative privacy of my car and not in a bar where there was karaoke and general barroom insanity.
So I did. And then we hit the road.
Of course, now it's a few hours later and I've got a little distance and I know that one guy doesn't get to decide that I don't bring myself to the stage. I think he's full of it. And I have to remember how happy I was with my set after it was over. I realy felt good about it. Also I'm happy I have some shows coming up so that I don't have an opportunity to feel mopey and sad about it. I just have to get back on the horse.
And I also think I have to do more of these types of auditions so that the rejection doesn't feel so personal. I don't know how to make it feel less personal since I lay my personal life right out there on the stage. I guess I'm just going to have to learn.
posted by Jennifer Myszkowski at
1:37 AM
4 Comments:
I don't get his comment either, Jennifer. You are all about your life, family, thoughts, etc. What the eff was he talking about?
Rejection sucks - I know when my art gets rejected, I feel it painfully and it takes a while before I can pick myself back up. It's all a crapshoot and one person's opinion is just that - ONE person's opinion.
I feel a lot better about it today after a decent night of sleep. I'm still disappointed, and I still have no idea how I could bring more me to the stage, but I'm carrying on. Everything is fine.
Dear One,
You are light years ahead of me so who am I to respond right now? I am me, so here it is....
Did you ever read "The Long Walk"? If not, I'll give you the Kanz notes on it - the walk was long. As I recall the fellow didn't have any shoes.
Ya, ya, ya, I'm getting there....
You have walked a bunch of your long walk at this point, which is a significant achievement worthy of celebration with Norwegian pancakes, Vermont maple syrup and smoothies, but the walk continues.
You will get there, because you want to. I'm now goint to email you a NY Times Magazine piece from 2005 on Lewis Black's career.
Yours in perseverance, kkkkkk
Man! What a time you've had. Here's the thing I've learned from auditions that aren't of the comedy kind but still of the-live-in-person-do your-thing-and-then-hold-your-breath-kind. It's about type. That guy's type is someone that's not you. It's not about bringing more of yourself, less of yourself. It's not even about you but about his type which is why it doesn't make any sense to you (or me). So like you said, just carry on.
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