Category: Being Kinder to You — It’s Important (Page 3 of 4)

Ways to Feel Satisfied and Peaceful

August 1, 2023 / dancallaway

You’ve heard me talk about how New York City diner menus. They overwhelm me. I mean, who can choose between blintzes and a BLT?

(I’m remembering a woman I waited on at Artie’s Delicatessen who ordered French toast and followed it up with a slice of carrot cake. She didn’t have any problems choosing.)

I finally developed a technique of deciding the category of food I’d order BEFORE walking into the diner, and that helped.

But I’ve found that my menu overwhelm syndrome creeps up in other areas of my life.

And I’ll tell you why.

We get NYC menu-level info hurled at us every day. That is, you do if you get as attached to that little computer rectangle in your pocket with the candy-colored squares on its adorable little screen as I do.

Lately it’s been the YouTubes.

I told you last week about how I’m all about that INPUT. (Did you do your Clifton Strengths? They’re helpful, right?)

Input’s a wonderful trait for an educator. And it’s a PARALYZING flaw when you’re just trying to put one foot in front of the other toward that thing you decided was a priority.

But you get surfing on one algorithm wave, and all of a sudden you’re like,

oooooh, wait, maybe I need to break this all down in an Asana work flow. Hmmmmm. Will the free version be okay? How much money have I spent on software this year? No. Just use your paper checklist that’s been working. Did I pull those tasks from my Google Calendar? What about the bullet journal? How do these people post on Instagram so much? SHOULD we buy land and building and off-grid community with rentable yurts and compost toilets?

Then Melissa’s like, “Sweetie, you need some time? What’s up?”

And I’m all like, “Where do I even BEGIN? It’s MADNESS in here, I tell you! It all started with blintzes.

Melissa threw me a life preserver, though. ? (She may have gently aimed it at my head.)

She brought my brain back to our lived-in kitchen and toy-strewn living room and reminded me, “The summer’s gonna be over soon. Let’s enjoy this time we have together.”

Thank you, sweetie. It was so clear and simple.

I’m having a hard time appreciating the present lately. My brain flies off in the future, and the future looks like a diner menu with much higher prices.

So, these are some things I’m doing to help my brain.

Feeling wonky? How can you get back to HERE?

You’re gonna roll your eyes, but the answer almost all the time is paying attention to your breath. And it’s paying attention to your breath longer than you want to. I want to take exactly one and a half deepish inhales and feel balanced again.

Nope. It takes a little longer to travel from Agitation Station to Clarity Town.

The other thing is to notice things around you on purpose. And name them to yourself. The wall color, the birds you may hear, the loud train or smell of subway track grease. This helps. (Also key in an audition room.)

This, too, takes longer than I want it.

Siri, “Make me present, calm, and serene!”

One other thing: Phone a friend. Literally pick up that rectangle computer and call somebody. This, for some reason, is hard to do these days. Especially because we all assume something’s wrong when we get an actual phone call. So, maybe send a prelim text.

This is also especially hard for folks like me who want to solve everything inside the ole brain. One day I’ll accept this doesn’t work.

One other simplifying question that’s helped me is from James Clear’s book Atomic Habits.

It’s a question of identity.

If you want your identity to be someone who’s healthy and vibrant, you can ask yourself, “What would a healthy and vibrant person do?”

I’d drink a glass of water. I’d get out for a walk. I’d take some time to stretch.

If you ask yourself what you’d like your identity to be, you can then ask, “What would this kind of person do?” We almost always know. It’s just that the steps are often so simple, our brain’s like, “It can’t be that straightforward. Yawn. What’s on YouTube?”

That brings me to the next helpful thing: Getting where you want to go means doing simple/boring things over and over.

It’s not shiny and entertaining. It’s satisfying.

Once you stop expecting constant amusement to be a thing, you can start humming and stretching and learning that song you picked out for the cabaret you decided to put together (even though you feel scared. I always do.)

Then when you show up for the thing, those days and days of practice are in your body. That’s where confidence comes from, the skill you built.

The other one that’s helpful and very hard for me is seasons.

Right now is the time for — fill in your blank.

Right now is not the time in my life when I can do a lot of 730pm dinner meetups. I’ve got to put my boys to sleep mid-chapter of the next Chronicles of Narnia book.

Let’s review:

? Breathe for as long as it takes.

?? Notice things around you for as long as it takes.

? Connect in a real time present way with somebody you trust.

? Ask yourself, “What would a kind-of-person-I-want-to-be do?”

?? Then do it. Over and over, and look for the satisfaction not the entertainment.

? And notice what season you’re in.

Hope this was helpful for you. I’ll keep you posted.

In the meantime, you know what I’m fixing to say: There’s only one you, and folks need to hear the story only you can sing.

Love much,

Dan

Why Crappy People Work — How to Make Your Musical Theatre Auditions and Creative Life Successful

July 26, 2023 / dancallaway

I’m going to tell you the reasons folks you think are demonstrably average seem to work all the time.

And I’m also going to tell you how this information will make your auditions and overall creative expression more successful.

One time I was doing a show, and one of the leads was offensively average. Company members noticed. Crew noticed. I definitely noticed.

Management were delighted with them.

To seal the deal, this artist spoke matter of factly about their inherent belonging in the principal player echelons. (I think this was more of an anxiety thing than arrogance to be fair.)

I was an ensemble member, and (funny enough after just criticizing what this person said out loud), I thought I should be playing a principal role, too.

I worked with an acting coach at the time who saw the show, and I’ll never forget what she said:

“They stood for their work.”

What do you mean? They stood for their work?

It meant this:

They weren’t asking for anybody’s permission; they owned their performance, and there wasn’t any whiff of a question in the air whether or not they should be wearing those costumes and singing those songs.

Dammit.

This lights up a major lie that performers tell themselves. Wreaks havoc in general life, too: The Just World Belief.

Good things mean good outcomes. Bad = bad. And the world should be fair.

Extensive studies on both combat veterans and abuse survivors show that holding to this belief increases and prolongs PTSD symptoms.

Now please think about one actor acquaintance who carries this just world belief into every audition room.

Every table of deciders now holds the weight of universal justice in their hands, and with every heartbreaking opportunity, more evidence piles up with how unfair the world is.

The truth is — auditioning is not (and can’t) be a meritocracy. It’s decided by humans, and we are notoriously fickle. And it’s not a fair process.

I remember not booking a tour of Les Miserables and crying on my therapist’s couch because it was a dream of mine,

so I was sad.

But there was also a part of me that believed it should be my turn, and I deserved to get picked.

My advice — question this belief.

And notice the things in your life that work out well, when the odds skew ever in your favor.

We get so focused on how life has slighted us, we forget to notice that we can see, hear, walk, and have food to eat.

Dang, I still remember the time a cop just let me go in North Hollywood for talking on my Blackberry without a hands free contraption. She even said, “I don’t know why I’m doing this. These phones make me so mad.”

The next reason for all this audition mayhem is a very human thing that no one’s ever going to change — Middle School.

I’ll explain.

You’ve written a play, and you need folks. Who do you think of first? Your friends, people you KNOW.

If you have to look outside your familiar circle for roles or production support, what do you do? You ask your friends if they know somebody.

What are you looking for?

Someone who’s competent, kind, detail oriented and lives for stage management.

Can you imagine if you were interviewing a company manager, and the candidate said:

?? Can you give me a chance to solve your problem? I mean, I don’t know how I’ll solve it, but just pick me?

? Problem? I don’t see a problem here. And I’m amazing, so yeah, here I am. (Sits back and puts shod feet on desk.)

? Hey there. I get it — I see your problem. I’ve solved a lot of these before, and here’s how I can help you solve yours.

Who are you gonna sling a contract at that second and pray they’re available?

Yet actors often bring in versions 1 and 2 into rooms and then get frustrated that their results are crap.

It’s human to want people to pick you for stuff. We want to be chosen. It’s a natural and good desire. When my wife puts her hand on my back and says, “I love you,” I mean, that’s the stuff.

But if we’re talking about getting picked for shows, you need do 1 of 2 things:

Create positive emotional associations to yourself,

pick yourself.

Then create positive emotional associations to yourself. Because no matter how much you pick yourself, if you’re an asshole, no one will want to be in the trenches with you.

If this feels middle school, it’s because it is — because guess what middle schools are full of? People, just younger with under-developed prefrontal cortices.

This bears out in many rehearsal halls, too.

So what can you DO about this? How can you make your auditions and creative life more successful?

First, we are going to define a successful audition:

A successful audition means you prepare well, share the work with artistry, skill, and an open heart, and accomplish the goal you set for yourself in that meeting. It’s a clear preview of how you’d solve a casting problem, and it’s also a glimpse into the straightforward joy it will be to work with you.

That’s it. There’s no outcome component. You’re not going to get the job. Most of the jobs, we don’t get, so dispose of the lie that you have any direct control whatsoever over manipulating a casting decider into picking you.

For more on this, and to really set yourself free, read Audition Psych 101 by Michael Kostroff.

So, to have this successful audition, do this:

Number one, the folks you’re pissed about? Stop paying attention to them. They have nothing to do with you except what you can learn from them.

Number 2, this one’s real simple, but people discount it because it’s not shiny enough.

PREPARE THE SHIT OUT OF IT — and I mean prepare the shit out of it. This means that although you are holding your papers, you’re off book. You have your pitches, rhythms and lyrics in your body because you’ve taken the time to do it.

You understand this person you’re being on a cellular, empathetic, and experiential level.

Confidence only comes from competence, and that comes from your current skill level plus PREP.

And put yourself in the table people’s shoes — how do you feel when the person comes in PREPPED and READY? Exactly — good.

And go ahead and let this boost your ego. If you know you work harder than other folks, let that fuel you. Know that it will pay off because it has to in some way.

The same way that you don’t look for completely fair and equal measures based on your input and output, you can also know that there’s still cause-and-effect in the world.

If you put in the work, if you give away incredible work in the audition room, you’re going to get results. It can only have a compound interest.

If you go in and share fantastic skill with someone who makes casting decisions, and that particular project isn’t a fit for you, you’ve built up artistic goodwill with that decider. It’s just human that they’ll want to pay you back for your investment with them with more opportunities for future projects.

Ego is like butter, salt, heat, and sugar — a little conscious and measured addition in your recipe goes a long way.

Number 2A is also important, and that’s this: Be good.

Have a sober and humble estimation of your skills.

Video yourself. Get a good ears on your voice. Get a wise, incisive and kind acting coach on your storytelling.

What are your blind spots? What are your blocks?

Get in there and work on them and become the electric malleable and expressive performer that you yourself can trust to tell a story with honesty and power. If you know, you can do that, imagine the difference that will make when you walk into a room to share your solution to a casting problem.

And Number 3 —

Have something rich and meaningful going on in your life besides this audition.

Your performing career needs to thrive inside a rich and meaningful life. What do you have going on that gives life to you in life to those around you?

Sit down and write down what’s truly most important to you. Who are your people? Who do you love and who loves you?

And this is dramatic, but effective, and let’s face it, we’re dramatic. When you’re on your deathbed, is this audition or this show opportunity going to be the thing you’re thinking about?

If you’re at an appointment and you know that you have a writers’ meeting later that day on the project that you’ve put together or you’re going to meet up with that friend you haven’t seen in a long time, it’ll set you free to put things in context, and you won’t put value on things that you don’t need to put value on.

What is valuable is your preparation and showing up with excellence so that you prove to yourself that you’re a skilled and generous performer, who has a rich depth of artistry to bring to the table.

So, back to those folks booking all those jobs who clearly don’t deserve it and fill you with indignation. Here are some possibilities to weigh:

Maybe they’re better than you think they are. And maybe just because you understand what a good performance entails doesn’t mean that you’re delivering that yourself. I remember when I realized the gap between my intellectual understanding of the thing and my actual physical execution of that same thing. Ouch. And thank God.

Notice what’s in their energy. It might just be bravado, but there’s something in their energy that communicates “I don’t need this.” They’re not thirsty for connection at the party.

And remember, you don’t know their life. You’re judging a performance aesthetic and skill set, and you’re attaching meaning to their character. Stop doing that. Number one, it’s not your business, and number two, it’s a waste of your time while you could be working a messa di voce exercise to get your head and chest voice making terrific friends.

Comes back to work my acting coach Elizabeth said that time.

You’ve got to stand for yourself, and I’m convinced that having the skill, competence, and preparation underneath you is what will give you a substantial foundation that you can plant your feet on. Do that over and over, and great results will show up in your audition in creative life.

So get in there and do the work. There’s only one you, and folks need to hear the story on the you can sing. Now go sing.

How to Make Belting Feel Terrible — The Ironic Use of Brandi Carlile’s “The Joke” as a Torture Device

July 25, 2023 / dancallaway

The tough thing about the studio I use at school: it sits directly beneath a practice room.

Sometimes it sounds like incidental orchestra warm up.

Sometimes I hear prolonged reed instrument embouchure masochism.

And sometimes singers get in there, and I remember that nobody knows how to practice.

(Sounds like a useful video series. I’d just have to make the title “How to Get Good and Slay Your Foes,” or something like that.)

The other day, though, a diligent person above me at 8 The Fenway decided they was gonna do themselves some high belting.

And they’d decided belting meant making a strong sound with their vocal folds REALLY together all the time.

I understand. That’s a logical thing to think. It’s just that so much of singing is weird and counterintuitive.

I tried to focus on my work, but I just kept hearing this somewhat familiar melody being emphatically forced through this person’s larynx.

My mirror neurons wouldn’t let me notice anything else besides the auditory empathy constricting my throat.

Then there were the vowels.

Oh no, friend, you’re not going to sing that note with that vowel the way you want.

I almost changed into my nobody-asked-me-but-I-must-help Vocal Pathology Avoidance Man superhero costume and bounded upstairs, but I had no time. And that woulda been weird.

Then I realized that somewhat familiar melody was “The Joke” by Brandi Carlile.

I love “The Joke.”

But there was nothing funny about what was happening here. Stop doing this to yourself. And this song.

So, there’s a slew of stuff I could say about the nuanced interworkings of how to make effective Mode 1 (basically chest voice) sounds around and above your passaggio.

But here are three takeaways we can learn while we pray for our friend’s vocal future.

The Voice Comes Through, Not From

The power source for your voice starts in your torso (well, your whole body, really, but, again, another article) — your abs and ribs, depending on what kinda sound you’re making, who you’re being, and what’s happening in the story.

This moves the air THROUGH (yes, yelling at you) your vocal folds and causes them to vibrate.

When folks make belty sounds, the brain somehow decides that the source of the screlt is at the throat level, so the body recruits all kinds of effort around your larynx. No bueno.

The air movement ITSELF helps with vocal fold closure, so when I don’t collaborate with this physical reality, I fight my own body and make things real real hard.

The breath, vibration, and communication energy come THROUGH, not from the folds.

This is also why singing’s so scary and tricky — it’s a flow that you can’t stop and edit before it leaves your mouth.

Belty Sounds Aren’t Just Dependent on Your Folds

Lots of folks think, “Belt? Ok, engage vocal fold slam!”

There are lots of ways to make called-out, excited, risky, wailing, engaged, scream-adjacent sounds. And so much of this depends on your phonatory pattern and the shape of your vocal tract.

And when you discover these ways, you’re gonna be a little angry at how easy they feel.

What we call belting is often one of the most efficient ways to make noise, and it requires a teeny bit of air. Yeah, it’s robust, but the actual feeling of efficient sound making is some crazy return on your breath investment.

Belty sounds also collaborate only with certain vowels.

If you want to look this up, check out Complete Vocal Technique’s work on this, and look up Overdrive and Edge modes. I think their breakdown of this is one of the most straightforward ways of understanding belty sounds. You can also watch a video I did on vowels here.

Your Body Knows How to Belt

The family of sounds we’ve come to call “belting” are all very natural human sounds. That’s why we love it. They’re real, engaging, risky, and the let the emotions through. They’re healing.

So learn to listen to your bod.

And listening to Brandi Carlile is a good lesson in this. She sings straight from her hear guts spirit errythang.

In “The Joke,” the melody of the chorus climbs and climbs — that’s story structure telling you these folks who are laughing one day won’t be.

Just that line, “Let ‘em laugh while they can.”

That “laugh” for 2 beats — what does your body feel when you picture folks pushing somebody down chuckling because they have the upper hand? Do your justice hackles get up? Might that affect how your voice calls our the word “laugh” for 1.5 seconds? Of course it will.

I wrote about the specific how-to right here — how your gut-brain can teach you to sing almost anything.

Super Important Takeaway

And here’s the most important piece of this.

I’ve made the equivalent noises as our friend SHOWING UP and working in the practice room. Good job up there!

I’ve worked really hard and been mystified by how to accomplish a vocal task. I’ve thrown all the spaghetti at all the walls and made the wounded animal noises to prove it. Often in front of folks.

Your voice is resilient. Yes, there’s fragility there, and we have to take care of it.

AND, it’s so strong and capable. Think of all it can do. So trust it. If you feel tired, or anything feels uncomfortable, stop, and don’t do it that way again.

Get help! From someone who knows what they’re talking about. Someone who can demonstrate knowledge about how your physiology, psychology, and soul make sounds.

Mike Ruckles in NYC has great advice on this too:

And be kind to you. You’re going to suck at stuff that’s new. Let’s let ourselves be a beginner for heaven’s sake. Talking to myself, too. Oof.

And if you want to learn to make these noises in straightforward, easy ways that make sense, work, and are fun, just reach out and work with me.

I’ve made all the mistakes, and I hear this stuff every day, and it’s my absolute delight to help you sing free, joyful, and heal stuff in the process.

Singing is sneaky like that.

There’s only one you, and folks need to hear the story only you can sing. Now go sing.

CVT’s Research Site

Epic Performance of “The Joke” at The Grammys.

Massholes, Bedtime Headache, Good Italian, Impulse Control

July 22, 2023 / dancallaway

This is a blog post that I’m writing because I told myself I would write one every day for the foreseeable future.

I fought through way too much traffic on the Mass Pike (the boys were troopers, though ??), thought a lot about how I want to grow the teaching biz and share more. No epiphanies, but I’m listening.

And now I’m going to bed with a headache.

My brother in law treated us to Italian tonight which was terrific — rigatoni and meatballs in creamy marinara. Thanks Rob.

It was also in the low 80s today, so that’s a plus. Though the boys’ guest room got a little too hot, and they were too excited to go to bed, so I had to tap Melissa in before I hit someone and screamed “you turd!” These are the wins.

I hope you sang a little something today.

The Glitter, Though!

July 21, 2023 / dancallaway

Our Noah bear’s already had his share of dental adventures in his 5 years.

I’ll spare you the saga, but I’m grateful we found a terrific pediatric dentist who’s a menschela with the hands of a micro surgeon. I don’t know if a micro surgeon is a thing, but Dr. Eliasberg would be that.

We’d come through the last of the procedures requiring the “sharp water” (There’s a whole mystery deception language they use with the kids, and it’s brilliant.), when one morning I was brushing Noah’s teeth, and I saw behind a lower incisor ANOTHER tooth growing in.

Wha?

This is a thing that happens. The permanent tooth sometimes wants to make an appearance before the kid tooth gives itself to the Tooth Fairy coffers.

Lordt.

We called Dr. E. What was just going to be a routine cleaning was going to need to be an extraction so the new teeth had somewhere to go.

Dr. E worked her magic again, and Noah emerged from the chair not only okay but proud of his new look. And excited about the milkshake in his future.

That evening, we were out of singles, so while I taught, Melissa put together the mystical dental exchange gift.

She used the only bill she had in her wallet — a cold fresh 20.

And she nested it in its own little ziplock bag surrounded by copper colored glitter.

We’re setting a pretty high tooth bar, here, aren’t we? I mean, I felt lucky when the Magic Molar Maven remembered to drop a quarter under my pillow.

He had been through the tooth wars, though. So sure. Ok.

I slipped in and performed the exchange —which was a challenge. Let’s just say I’m not going to be moonlighting as a cat burglar or a forest tracker anytime soon.

The next morning Noah and Jude came downstairs, Noah holding up his gift with his lower gap beaming.

“Daddy! She came! And she brought me GLITTER!”

Magic was real.

And it was — to see the delight on this kid’s face.

“There is something else in there,” I told him.

He looked closer. “Oh, a message?”

I informed him that there was also a rectangle of green paper representing monetary energy included in his gift. I didn’t tell him it was a 20. The whole dental euphemism glossary has sent me off on a deceit rampage, it seems.

But what would it be to be thrilled by a ziplock snack size of copper colored glitter under your pillow?

I wish for you to have a moment when something feels magical like that today.

And I hope the Tooth Fairy’s fresh out of coins and small bills.

Instagram Scam (Smells Phishy) — and the real question we should be asking

July 19, 2023 / dancallaway

I got a message from a mysterious Instagram account asking,

My gut immediately sent up the fishy delete this is suspect alert. And I as I wrote yesterday, I’m trying to get better at listening to those signals.

But I decided to experiment. I told the mystery person I did write, and they said Oh! Would I please write a little personalized bday song for their son turning 4?

I let them know I didn’t have time to do said project, but I knew folks who could.

They weren’t listening.

Somehow once I’ve engaged in a conversation I’m unable just to tap “delete.”

I mean, maybe I can knock out a silly song about Tiger and his puppy in half an hour, slap it on a video and send it to this mystery person for hundreds of dollars.

When I continued the experiment, I said, “Sure, I’ll send you a credit card payment link — you can pay the first half now and the rest when I send you the song.”

Then all this back-and-forth ensued about, “Oh, I can’t do Venmo, and I have to send you a mobile check because I have a domiciliary account (had to look that up)….. “

This whole send you a check from strangers thing is super phishy, and I don’t even understand how these fake check folks net a profit from all this particular grift.

I just told them they’d need a credit card and reported them to IG — I’m sure Meta’s right on it.

But it got me to thinking — the intellectual, emotional (?), and SOUL resources humans all over the globe expend to steal from other folks.

In this case it’s super gross because this person is hunting unsuspecting songwriters on the interwebs and luring them to spend creative energy writing a birthday song for a fictional child.

Maybe targeted songwriter could use some help knocking out that rent this month, so their need for cash might cut off their better BS instincts.

Insta-scam’s gonna take their money, their creative resource, and their time.

Made me ask myself a question, though, and oof:

How do I scam myself on time?

How do I dupe myself into thinking I’m investing my time well when I’m really spinning my wheels and telling myself I’m going somewhere?

The question annoys me and makes me a little angry, so that means it’s one worth asking.

I’ll keep you posted.

Full Fridge Freakout

July 16, 2023 / dancallaway

And two words that dissolve decision fatigue and overwhelm

I have a thing about the refrigerator.

If the grocery cart (carriage, I mean. I’m in New England now) gets really full, rather than thinking something like, “Wow, how grateful I am to be able to get these groceries,”

my mind maps the current real estate in the Kenmore food cooler (empty as it may be), and cortisol levels spike as I imagine stacking the ground turkey and chicken thighs BEHIND the sideways almond milk carton on that obscure shelf just above the crisper drawer.

What If I forget the chicken thighs? I need to SEE what we’re working with.

Melissa, on the other hand, loves her a full fridge. Full fridge = provision and gratitude.

To me, it’s “we better use all of this! And look! Those strawberries are already getting mushy sides. I didn’t SEE that in the store. I shoulda KNOWN not to get the ones from the display!”

The origins of this anxiety are complex. May come from one too many disappointments opening chilled cool whip containers at my grandmother’s house only to discover green beans. What a cruel trick.

I also fantasize about sauntering to the local outdoor market with a macrame satchel, seeing what’s fresh and in season that day, and letting the food, you know, just speak to me. (The last sentence was to be read with a low, breathy tone and sibilant [s]s.)

Comes down, actually, to something very everyday human for me, though: decision overwhelm.

And it’s the reason we have stress hormones injecting themselves into our neurology these days. Living in the US, we’ve got a glut of choices.

And it isn’t good for us.

Even as I write that, I’m thinking, “oh, but I WANT to have the possibility available.”

It’s kind of like when Jude’s in the zone making a magna-tile tower, and he notices Noah carrying He-Man’s little plastic sword. Suddenly, that’s the One Ring to Rule them All.

It’s hard to show up and do the over-and-over thing you might be bored with when so many new shinies sparkle in your periphery.

How do we return to the repeated actions that bring satisfaction and health?

For me, one way is to ask, “So that?”

I’m writing this to you so that —

? I’ll figure out what my fridge thing is about.

?‍? You’ll read about my fridge thing and feel better about your deodorant storage hangup.

✍️ I can record what I was thinking about in July 2023.

? I can write and share something today. That’s satisfying.

? and so that maybe one day a singer googles, “How does full fridge anxiety overlap with musical theatre singing?,” and this article will populate the TOP of the search suggestions.

In anything I do, I want to connect.

It’s why I teach, why I sing, why I cook for people (Ina Garten’s got a great chicken thigh with fingerling potatoes and salad recipe), and why I write.

And if I know what I wrote made your day better, then perfect.

Now I gotta make a grocery list.

The Liberating Truth that Will Change Your Musical Theatre Auditions for Good

July 13, 2023 / dancallaway

The Actual Way to Audition for Musicals and Stand Out from the Confusion Crowd

I had a shoot-myself-in-the-character-shoe habit back in my busy audition days.

I hid.

I mean, I was physically there. In the room. But I was playing a high-level game of hide and seek.

Only the table people didn’t know.

They thought I was coming in to share my ideas and preparation for a role. Silly.

Nope. Not my purpose.

I wanted to show a teeny facet of my skill set that I felt comfortable about. And then I wanted some wise person shuffling resumes to notice the ember of performance genius smoldering inside me just waiting them to get the bellows and provide the oxygen.

Like Pinocchio’s Blue Fairy, they’d say, “You know, you’re really terrific. The world needs what you have. We’re going to give you a lead role in our show because you’re so good. And when we do that, you’ll finally know that you’re a real boy.”

It never happened that way.

I mean, auditions led to roles, and I worked, but I lost count of the times my soul played possum in the audition room.

I obscured my energy. I didn’t share a clear point of view. I didn’t know what my point of view was.

Performers have this problem. Often, what draws us to the stage is people clapping for us. This was a big magnet for me.

We get the back pats, and so we set out to get more of them.

I did this in life too, always assessing what was going to garner approval from the big people around me. I wanted connection and support, so I paid attention to what got me that.

So, in the audition room in front of a table full of folks you probably don’t know and who aren’t there to develop a deep friendship, the cues for how to get the ‘at-a-boys are limited.

But I still looked.

I mean, I was still trying to figure out how to order in a NY Diner without losing my mind. Making integrated choices about a character’s psychological world was going to be a few years off.

But the problem was that I believed one central falsehood:

It was about me.

I mean, yes, my self-person was the one coming in the room singing the songs, but that’s not what the casting folk were concerned with.

They wanted to know if the B-flat on “Maria” was going wrong because I was sick or because my technique fell apart under pressure.

But it wasn’t about my eternal soul.

It was a simple question: Can this guy do the things we need in this show, and does he seem like a reasonable human to work with? Add to that all the other sausage making that goes into getting a show on a stage, and you see real quick that you’re the last thing they’re thinking about.

It’s liberating info.

And once I had a chance to see a few casting processes from behind the table, it became clear how fleeting an actor’s time in a room is.

Again, this was liberating.

Trying to guess what someone wants is a road to crazy town. In the audition room and in your relationships.

I mean, if you know your friend loves Magnolia Cupcakes, and it’s their birthday, you know what to do.

But trying to crack the code so you can win the approval prize is never a great setup. It tells the one you’re trying to please, “You’re above me, and you control my wellbeing.”

Nobody wants to be in charge of that.

The other thing this does? It makes what you’re offering cloudy. Instead of a clear proposal, you’re wasting time with the equivalent of, “It doesn’t matter to me. What do you wanna do?”

Instead you can take the risk to say, “Let’s go for Thai.”

They maybe looking for Ethiopian that day, but at least you made a bid. And who knows? Maybe they hadn’t considered how delicious a Panang curry might taste.

And think about what your brain does when someone says, “Oh, I’m fine with whatever.”

You’re immediately annoyed at the cognitive load you have to take on.

So, when you go into an audition, answer a question. Have an opinion. And prepare the hell out of demonstrating how you’d solve the problem.

Michael Kostroff says, “Always take care of them. Never ask them to take care of you.”

That sums it up.

Make your offer clear. If you’re confused, they will be, too, and as a smart marketing person said a long time ago (and like it or not, if you’re auditioning, you’re marketing) “a confused mind always says no.”

Worth the Soul Toll?

July 12, 2023 / dancallaway

My taste in music’s like my taste in cuisine.

My favorite food’s a cheeseburger. WITH french fries. Bring me ranch dressing for dipping? Heaven.

I love risotto, boeuf bourguignon, any iteration of potato, omelettes, biscuits, and BUTTER.

I want it to be rich, satisfying, comforting, delicious, and I want it to be worth the time and effort to prepare it.

I want cooking it to be a joy.

This is why I subscribe to the Joy of French Cooking school of music making; I’ll have my ballad in a nice béchamel, please.

I could never pierce the meaning of 20th Century atonal musical (or anything that sought to deconstruct.)

While I empathize with the need to howl at the chasm in the early 20th Century, I still need cadences.

And if I’m going to work my ass off to learn a piece of music, it better fill my soul and make an audience go “yuuuummmm” and say, “My compliments to the chef.”

We have a phrase in our house — soul toll.

We bandy it liberally, apply to myriad situations, and even musicalize it.

It describes end-of-day emotional dysregulation (child and adult), traffic, shopping at Market Basket on a Saturday, and stoplight texters. (Of course, I’ve never done that.)

So, when it comes to life choices, the question becomes, “Is this worth the soul toll?”

Just because you have that block available on your calendar doesn’t mean you have adequate soul units to fuel that activity.

So I invite you to use this Q when you face choices.

Another way to ask this was something I heard Marie Forleo say: “Is the juice worth the squeeze?”

Caveat: not every lime in your life is going to yield ample zing to your G and T. Some you just have to squeeze, be glad you bought the Bombay Sapphire, and then take a nap.

But where you do have agency, check in with your soul tank, and get all Mary Oliver with yourself: What are you gonna do with that one wild and precious life?

Whatever you choose, I recommend butter.

Quick! Get Off the Highway!

July 11, 2023 / dancallaway

We took a long road trip last June, and there was a major backup in Pennsylvania.

We’d driven through three big slowdowns (Connecticut!) and a rain torrent of biblical proportions, so we were beat.

Our very last wait-with-the-big-trucks event turned out to be the rubberneck side of the real event.

A crash on the other side created a dead stop for miles. The state police just shut the highway down at one point and detoured traffic. This caused another miles-long backup.

When I’m on the smooth-sailing side of the highway whooshing past a phalanx of furrowed headlights, I feel a mix of “oof so glad that’s not me” while I scan my recent traffic experience to see if my karmic balance means I deserve this turn to drive gridlock-free.

9 years living in LA tells me the answer is a perpetual yes.

But you get all kinds of mixy feelings when you go by a traffic event like this. You pray everyone in the crash was ok. You feel bad for the folks whose trips just got hours longer. And then you really feel anxious for the cars farther down the road doot-da-dooing at 75 mph straight toward an impending wall of stop.

The uncomfortable collection of feelings you get — feeling bad for folks while having no agency to do anything to help anybody — that’s a good check that your empathy’s on line.

And when you’re faced with gridlock (because no matter how many traffic karma hours you’ve logged on the 405 Freeway, you’ll still face gridlock), you can make another plan.

You can figure out how to wait well. I mean, there are podcasts now.

(Sometimes when the 5 Freeway was at a standstill, Melissa used to just go see a movie.)

Or you can take an alternate route.

A few weekends ago, Melissa and I went to Gloucester and Rockport, and Interstate 95 around Boston was a wicked clustah.

So, we took the scenic route through the towns outside the 95 perimeter.

It took an hour longer than waiting in traffic, and there were whoops-turn-arounds. But passing hydrangea bushes and town squares was a better plan than staring at concrete highway dividers.

So, just because you can’t do anything to help the folks on the other side doesn’t mean you need to turn off your mirror neurons or calculate some cosmic system of traffic experience fairness.

And when you’re the one who’s got to wait, you can find the best way for you to wait well or make a pit stop at the Louisa May Alcott House.

And look how beautiful Rockport, Massachusetts, is.