Welcome to the job-getting business...
...That's the real business there's no business like.
And if you're in the midst of packing, certain Hollywood had better batten down its hatches because you're the best damn actor this side of John Barrymore, we'd like to shake your hand, pat you on the back - and tell you to stop right there.
There's a fundamental flaw in your thinking. You're confusing being a good actor with being a working actor.
Working actors know they're good, but they also have come to grips with one very essential fact: If you're thinking of becoming a professional actor, above all understand that you're really thinking of becoming a door-to-door salesman - of yourself.
An actor's true vocation is selling and job-getting: his avocation is acting. Most would-be actors either fail to understand this or they've never been told it. They spend all their time honing their craft and little or no time on the business of acting. They sit by unrelentingly silent phones, idealistically waiting for someone to "pick up on" their talent. Occasionally this happens, but more often than not they begin to feel like Edgar Allan Poe's famous "Purloined Letter" - there they are, sitting out for all to see, and nobody knows they're there.
Eventually they quit, believing they were failures as actors. They weren't. They were just poor job-getters.
So if you're thinking about becoming a professional actor, put aside your talent for the moment and examine your basic personality. Can you sell? And - equally important - can you live with the idea of being a salesman? Do you have the emotional make-up of a go-getter?
If you can't answer yes to that, we'd honestly recommend you remain a non-pro. You'll probably be a happier man or woman if you don't act for money.
Now don't misunderstand: we're not saying that being an actor is one long toothache. There are many rewards to the profession, not the least of which is being a member of a very exciting, highly creative community.
But that community, to say the least, is overcrowded. There are about 75,000 members of the Screen Actors Guild (SAG), 80 percent of whom earn less than $5,000 a year. That doesn't include the other acting and related unions, and it doesn't include you (probably) and the thousands of others who are trying to get into them.
And even being the greatest talent and the greatest job-getter won't guarantee success. Consider the following rather daunting little story:
Years ago, we attended a seminar for beginning actors. The guest speaker looked over the sea of eager faces, sighed, and said, "Of all the people in this room, I would say that 75 percent will have quit by next year; 20 percent more will have given up by the following year; and in five years, two - maybe three - of all of you will still be pursuing a career in acting."
Regardless of whether or not he was right, the point is that this is a business for survivors.
"Patience and perseverance are 45 percent; timing and luck are 45 percent; and talent is ten percent, as talent should be a given," says personal manager Melissa Torme-March. "There are so many people in L.A. who are unbelievably talented, but if they don't have the patience, perseverance, timing and luck, their talent is irrelevant."
Put another way, it's like being in a lifeboat with 75,000 other people - a boat that can accommodate only two or three hundred (that's about how many roles are available in any given week in Hollywood). You're going to have to figure out a way to stay in the boat, to make enough money to keep yourself afloat all the while thinking up ways of pulling yourself out of the crowd so that Hollywood will sit up and take notice of you.
That means this is no business for the meek or anyone whose pride can't stand more than the average quota of bruising. After all, in terms of type, there will always be at least 25 other people who can play the same roles as you. You have the right to think of yourself as special - you are. Now convince everybody else.
You're going to have to be smarter, quicker, and a better hustler than the other guy. (That doesn't mean you'll need to sleep with anybody; let's get that out of the way right now. You're out to make friends - not lovers.)
Director/cinematographer Bruce Logan put it this way: "I went to a seminar where all the guest speakers were studio executives, and the buzzword there was 'relationships' I mean the word 'relationships' must have come up 150 times in eight hours. That's the way this industry works." And part of making those "relationships" work involves not only being a good actor, but a good talker as well. In show business, the people who talk the best, work the most.
In short, either develop good business sense and a strong helping of "street smarts," or in five years or so plan to be a member of that frustrated crowd continually streaming to the exit doors. Entertainment attorney Michael C. Donaldson states it beautifully: "A lot of people are drawn to acting just to be known as actors. They haven't become adults - they just want to play for the rest of their lives. Successful actors are adults who do this as a career ... I really believe successful actors would be successful in almost any other field they might choose."
So, before you finish packing, ask yourself: CAN YOU HANDLE STRESS?
"You tell me you're an actor and I say no you're not. What you really do for a living is audition," says commercial casting director Beverly Long. "If somebody asks you what you do for a living, you should say, 'I audition.' You only act occasionally. And you will be going on auditions for the rest of your life."
Unfortunately, nobody pays you to audition, so the financial stress of being an actor is obvious. We don't mean starving. That's a lot of artsy-craftsy ragweed that could even be harmful to your career. But you'll have to give up things - the hog just ain't that high.
Besides not being fun, financial stress can hurt. Consider this possibility: ten years after going to Los Angeles, you return home. Your best buddy, who became an accountant, is living in a beautiful four-bedroom house - and you've still got a non-air conditioned flat in Van Nuys. Want to make a sure buck? Go into banking.
Far more than financial stress, however, is the emotional stress of being an actor . . .
First, there's the emotional stress of constantly seeking work. "Actors," says commercial casting director Beverly Long, "Have to be able in a day to read for a soap opera in the morning; then go downtown to read for a show at the Ahmanson or go read for an Equity Waiver play; then, in the afternoon, go on a reading for a nighttime TV drama; then go on a commercial audition, and be able to adjust themselves to each. And each is going to be entirely different."
We know, you should be so lucky, but her point is well taken. You've got to be up, ready, and doing your best - all the time. Every audition is a first day on the job.
Next, there's the strain of being a businessperson/artist. And a schizoid state it is. In the morning you're making the rounds, pleasant as an anchorman, hiding how much you'd like to have that nasty receptionist's guts for garters. At night, you're in a play doing a role where we've got to see that very anger. When a producer says "Next!" you can't sob into his ashtray or jump on his desk and yell, "YOU CREEP! YOU WOULDN'T KNOW TALENT IF IT BIT YOUR WIFE!" You've got to be cool as sushi, smile and say, "Thank you." But when you're acting you've got to let us see your pain - to invite us to peer inside you - and do it on cue. Day in and night out, you'll need the soul of a poet and the hide of a rhinoceros.
During interviews with industry people, one question we almost always posed was "If you had to give an actor a single piece of advice, what would it be?" Said one casting director, "Get a good shrink."
Next, there's the stress of constantly making decisions. Everything from little choices, like which photo to use, to big ones such as firing Charlie - your friend and agent - who isn't getting the job done anymore; whether or not to get married; pregnant; and so on. And these don't get easier as you go through your career - they get harder. A beginner doesn't have to think twice about taking "three lines and a spit" on a TV show. A beginner doesn't have to decide whether or not to buy a condo and pray his one-year-old series gets renewed. A working pro does.
If you can't handle making decisions all the time, become a professional bureaucrat, not a professional actor.
Then there's the stress of often being treated like a beggar. A bum. A social pariah. (That's been true for centuries. In the Dark Ages, when they wanted to burn heretics, they used actors for kindling.) Secretaries will hang up on you. Your own relatives, when things are slow, will constantly be on your back to quit. Even fellow actors will pull a Cyrano on you: they'll look down long noses if they're working (currently) and you're not. And don't look for any warmth from the stars. We've seen some treat bit players as if the entry fee to the human race is having more than ten lines to say in a movie.
And, sooner or later, someone very close to you, someone you really care about, will say, "Why don't you stop fooling around and get yourself a real job?'
If you don't have the personality to shrug off all this and much, much more, this profession will drive you crazy, into deep depression, or just plain out. If you can't handle stress, avoid two professions: professional tightrope-walker, and professional actor.
