Letters to Los Angeles

Recently, a listserv that I’m on blew up. Nearly quite literally. It started with someone’s angry rant and then degenerated into various people shooting nasty emails at each other while defending other people’s dignity. It got to the point where I would open up my inbox (I have the listserv messages directly sent to my Outlook) and find at least 20 messages that I had to wade through with people’s angry messages.

For a while, it didn’t seem like the nasty sentiments would stop. I decided that if it kept going on, I would respectfully ask the administrator to take me off the email list.

I was tempted to join in the fray and ask people to Shut Up Already. But I refrained, because I feared that if I stated my opinion, it would just prolong the argument. I’m trying to simplify my inbox (and my life). The last thing I want to do is keep the nastiness going.

If it does happen again, though, I probably will remove myself from the group.

Life’s too short to have to wade through other people’s junk!

1 Comment | In: acting, minimalism, my life | | #

That time between Christmas and New Year’s is a such a dead zone.  A lot of businesses are either closed or have shorter hours, and especially here in Los Angeles, the industry completely shuts down.  Even now, a week after New Year’s, things haven’t really picked up.  I expect that will change on Monday, but for now, it’s like we’re still living on holiday time.
 
One nice thing about having all that free time is it’s given me a chance to go through my closets and apartment again and keep purging things.  I’ve begun listing some of my wardrobe on Ebay and I’m pleasantly surprised that things are actually in demand.  I’d like to get down to the things I love, the things I actually wear all the time.  I’m trying to be ruthless about it – as an actress, it often seems like I should have a myriad of outfits for the different types of characters I might be called in for.  Student, professional, gothic, preppy, sexy, hippie… You don’t think about it too much, but each of those types takes a different look.
 
At the same time, I’ve begun working with a career coach who’s basically making me take a minimalistic approach to my acting in order to get rid of some bad habits I’ve picked up.  (Minimalism in acting – I think we’re going to get along fine!)  His approach is, “You’re going to be yourself in every role you play… but you have to be your most attractive self.”
 
As I purge my closet it makes me think, my most attractive self isn’t all those different types of people (hippie, gothic, preppy, etc.).  I’m not sure yet what “my most attractive self” is – it could end up being one of those types, or something different entirely.  We’re still figuring out.  But it was eye-opening to realize that in trying to be all those things, I essentially hid my real self.  I think once I figure that out (with my coach’s help), I’ll not only get where I want in my career, but in life in general.  Which is really why I started this minimalism thing in the first place.

1 Comment | In: acting, minimalism | | #

It’s been awhile since I’ve posted, I know.  Shame on me!
 
These last few months have been hectic, balancing several jobs against a fledgling acting career, and trying to find time to devote to other projects I’ve been wanting to do.  There’s so many things that I want to do, that I should do – like hang out with friends, have fun, de-stress, take some “me” time.  I get a little bit of it, but not nearly as much as I would like.
 
And I’ve learned that you can be busy, or you can keep busy.
 
What’s the difference?
 
Being busy is a good thing – you’re working on projects that mean something to you, you’re spending time building good relationships, or enriching your life.  It’s taking a class that inspires you, or going out with friends and creating good memories.
 
Keeping busy is another thing entirely – you’re just going through the motions, adding on things to your life and schedule in order to feel like you’re “getting somewhere.”  But I find when I keep busy, then I feel overwhelmed, because I’m not doing the things I need to do.  When I keep busy, my house gets messy, I wonder where the time went, and I just feel really stressed out.
 
I’m used to hustling.  You don’t make it as an artist (musician, actress, or otherwise) without doing something virtually all the time to make it work.  But I’d rather be busy with the things that matter instead of keeping busy with things that masquerade as important, but are really just time and energy drains.  Life’s too short to entertain those sorts of guests.

No Comments | In: acting, minimalism, music, my life | | #

As I continue to purge things (physical and otherwise) out of my life, I’ve come to realize a profound truth.

Minimalism is scary because there’s nowhere to hide.

It forces you to look at who you are, and be okay with it.

When you can’t hide behind the rows of dusty books, you can’t claim that you’re an intellectual.  When you get rid of all the shiny new gadgets, you can’t say that you’re the technologically savvy “it” guy.  Saying goodbye to the fancy car means that you can act like the cool rich kid.  Suddenly, all you have is yourself.

Clearing out the busy junk in our schedules means you have to be okay with just being.  Sometimes we fill up our lives with meaningless projects because being busy makes us feel important.  But if you go to one less meeting, does that mean you’re any less valuable?

Even cleaning out the emotional baggage is scary.  You suddenly have to accept that maybe you are a little frightened, or a little jealous, or a little needy.  No one wants to see the negative things about them – and when you choose to pare down, you are faced with dealing with all of those things that you would rather hide behind.

We hide behind our things, hoping that the shiny trophies or family photos or swank furniture will proclaim to the world how valuable we are.  We hide behind our busy lives, afraid to just stop and be still for a moment. We are afraid to travel lightly through life, because we could miss or need something important.

But in the end, all those trappings don’t matter.  Wouldn’t it be better to stop hiding and embrace who you are – and who you’re meant to be?

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“Well, it’s a choice.”

It’s something you hear in the acting world all the time.  Not having been formally trained, it took me awhile to figure out what people meant by that phrase.  They’re referring to building a character – you have to make a strong choice about who you want to be, otherwise your character (and thus your scene, audition, etc.) comes across as watered down and lackluster.

Hearing that always reminds me of something you hear in the Christian world: “Love is a choice.”  Which makes me think that really, when you’re building a life, it all comes down to the choices you make.

As I continue to streamline my life, I’m reminded of how important choosing really is.  Not just things like, “Do I keep four plates or six?  Should I aim for 100 things or can I be a minimalist with 300?  How many things do I cut from my schedule?”  Although those things are important in my minimalist lifestyle, it goes a little deeper than that.

When you choose for something, you are also choosing against something else.  When I chose to move to Los Angeles, I was closing the door on all the other possibilities out there.  I have strong ties to Detroit, where I grew up.  I adore Seattle, and would love to live there someday.  I hear Austin, TX is pretty cool.  But I chose LA, and I have to adjust to that decision.

Being a minimalist is a choice, every day.  You have to choose to get rid of the excess clutter (physical and otherwise) every day, otherwise it’s easy for it to sneak up and accumulate on you.  I find that I even have to choose to cut the emotional baggage I carry – I can either choose to trust someone and embrace the unknown, or choose to not trust them and cut them out of my life.

I used to get so paralyzed making decisions, just because it was easy to play that “what if” game and fret about the closed doors.  Now, though, I’m actually enjoying it.  Because even if you close that door, you can always choose to open it again.

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If you’re an artist in any way, that means you’re a storyteller.  Whether it’s through your paintings, your photography, your music, or whatever, you’re telling a story – either yours or someone else’s.  And when you share a story with someone, it invites them to reciprocate.  Sometimes, you end up collecting people’s emotional junk when you don’t want to.

Well-meaning people all over the country have shared with me anything from cures for insomnia to why I should get pregnant.  Sometimes their comments are genuinely helpful – other times I think I serve as some form of therapy for them.  I know, though, that deep down they’re sincerely trying to be kind, and I don’t take offense at what they say.

I used to take people’s comments to heart much more.  If someone made some off-color remark that was intended to improve my character, I would freak out about it, even if it didn’t really pertain to me.  I’m learning not to do that so much, because I’m living by two very important standards: Examine the source.  And, people must earn the right to be heard in my life.

I recently got a letter from a family friend who I’m sure had good intentions.  It was (nicely) questioning some big decisions I’ve made, included some literature that I found rather offensive, and ended with the declaration, “We’ll be praying for a miracle.”

Before, I would have taken that to heart, taken on that person’s feelings, questioned my decisions and pretty much given myself an ulcer about everything.  This time, I thought, I get why they felt they had to have their say, however unwanted it may have been.  I know they had good intentions.  But at the same time, I didn’t want to be their miracle.  I didn’t want to own someone else’s thoughts about me, or have the pressure of doing what someone else thinks is best for me.

People will try to project all sorts of things on you because it makes them feel better.  But that doesn’t mean you have to own it.

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In 24 hours I went through several experiences that reinforced why minimalism is so important in my life – and perhaps especially in this city.

First – I’m moving.  As I was hand-carrying my stuff to my car, I noticed that another person was moving as well.  She’s a bit older, had more things, and had hired a moving company to take care of it.  But because I had purged so much with my last move, I realized I could get everything in my car and only make a few trips. What a great feeling!  Although, as I went up and down the stairs at least ten times, I thought, “I need to purge more.”  Just a good reminder – I really don’t need as much as I think I do.  And purging is a process, not a one-time event.

Second – I’m hitting breaking point.  My schedule is exploding, which can be a good thing.  But I need to balance my needs against everyone else’s.  I haven’t had a day off in at least four months.  There’s a reason the Bible commands us to have a Sabbath.  It’s necessary for your physical health and mental well-being.  So I’m learning to say No to some things, because as much as it would be nice to make everyone happy, I need to make myself happy too.  And that means not killing myself trying to please people.  Because…

Third – You can’t please people anyway.   I had a really toxic situation happen yesterday, which reminded me: minimalism is so much more than cutting your things down to 100 possessions or having a clean inbox.  It’s getting rid of toxic relationships too.  (Which, of course, you have to learn to recognize early on, but that’s another story.)  When everything went down yesterday, I spent some time sitting by the poolside, repeating to myself, “Disengage.  Just disengage.”  (I also wondered why I haven’t spent more time by the pool from which I am now moving away.)  Going through that made me think about other things in my life that I might have to disengage from to keep my sanity and move forward.

I mentioned to a friend that I find playing office politics petty.  And I think, largely, that’s what minimalism is for me.  Getting rid of pettiness – the excess stuff you don’t need, the stupid things cluttering your schedule, and the petty attitudes of people who you don’t need in your life.

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I was out with a friend recently and we were talking about my transition from music into the acting world. I’ve only been in Los Angeles for a year and a half, but I’ve been doing my best to make inroads as quickly as possible.  When asked about how I was making progress, I said, “Well, it took me three years to figure out how to make things work in music.  I decided I didn’t want my learning curve to be so high in acting.”

But really, the truth of the matter is, everything I ever needed to know in regards to my acting or music career, or life in general, I learned from journalism.  So I’ll share them with you… for free!  You don’t have to pay me for the consulting, but donations are always welcome.

So here’s what I learned from my all-too-brief stint as a fledgling journalist:

1)  Senior year of high school, from my first mentor, a videographer who worked at a nonprofit:  Always eavesdrop.  What my mentor meant was this:  if you’re in a room with someone, and someone else joins the conversation, pay attention.  You’re not listening for gossip, but more to see how people interact with each other, what the lay of the land is.  You’re figuring out how the office politics work.   And you may learn a trick or two – from eavesdropping in the studio, I learned some tips to make my music demos better.

2) Sophomore year in college, my first internship at the Grand Rapids Press:  You’ve gotta be hungry.  How bad do you want to advance in your career?   Then take the necessary steps to grow.  Keep training, keep learning, keep working.  I realized I wasn’t as serious about photography as some of my friends because I wasn’t carrying my gear around 24/7 – one of my friends used to drive around with a police scanner in his car!  He is now an amazing, award-winning photojournalist.  Me?  I’m in a completely different field.

3) Senior year, my final internship at the Detroit News:  Focus.  Incidentally, this same lesson came up again when I started recording my debut album in Nashville a few years later.  I was doing a missions program at the same time I was working a full-time internship at one of the largest dailies in Michigan.  My photo editor, who had been following my college career for several years, sat me down in his office and said, “You can be awesome at this… but your attention is divided.  You’ve got to pick one thing, and focus.”  There are a million things we can do and be good at, but if you’re going to excel… you’ve gotta focus.

4) My entire college journalism career, to now:  Allies come in unexpected places.  One of the most respected recruiters in the field ended up becoming a dear friend.  It all started because I was referred to him when I had a journalism question.  He never hired me, but as the years progressed he would pass me tips on job openings, and then ended up supporting me in my music career and providing help as I worked on my first novel.  So you must remember that everyone is valuable, and you never know where your biggest fans will end up coming from.

No Comments | In: acting, music, my life | | #

Today you did an incredibly risky thing.

You woke up.

And that’s where it all begins.

When I was traveling full-time to promote my music, people used to say to me, “You’re so brave.”  But I never thought of myself as brave.

According to Merriam-Webster, the definition of brave is “having or showing courage.”  But honestly, to walk away from my intended field (photojournalism) to doing music, and now acting – that wasn’t brave or courageous.  It was stupid.

It was stupid of me to walk away from a field where I knew how to work the system and earn a living.

It was stupid of me to jump into a career in which I had no training, no knowledge, no contacts, and no idea where to begin.

And even more importantly, it would have been stupid of me to play it safe, to not pursue my passion, and to be afraid of the future.

Being stupid was the best decision I ever made.

If I hadn’t been stupid, I would have missed out on some amazing opportunities – traveling around the country, making some great friends, experiencing different cultures (yes, every region of the U.S. really has its own culture!).  Being stupid meant packing up all my stuff and moving to Los Angeles where the odds really are against me.  And yet I’m having a great time with it all.

The nice thing about this ignorance is that “No” is not a part of your vocabulary.  If pursuing a career in entertainment (music or acting) is hard, I have no idea, because I have no past experiences to judge my current life against.

I think, when you have a dream or a great idea that you want to pursue, it’s easy to get caught up in the what-ifs and freak out about the details.  Then we get scared and paralyzed and don’t move forward.

But we don’t realize that every day, every single one of us is being brave.  Just choosing to get out of bed in the morning is a brave decision – or stupid, if you look at it from a certain angle – because you don’t know what the day will throw at you.

So, remember – today, you did an incredibly risky thing.  You woke up.

What stupid thing are you going to do today?

No Comments | In: acting, music, my life | | #

When I meet other actors here in town, the number one thing I hear from them is a complaint about their agent.  Namely, that they’re not getting out and about as much as they’d like to.  So I’ve decided that, for all my actor friends and the merely curious, I should outline why acting is a lot nicer to artists than the music industry.

Every musician wants to be signed to a label.  Sure, labels only take you if you’ve got a lot of clout, sold a ton of CDs and have a major presence.  (Of course, by that point, you wonder why you needed the label in the first place.)  The biggest draw for artists to sign is still better distribution (to radio, to stores, etc.) than you can achieve on your own.  In other words, a label is really only for PR purposes now.

Which, strangely sounds a lot like the purpose of an acting agent to me….

So, assuming that having an agent is a lot like being on a music label (and they even have boutique agencies vs. big ones, just like indie labels vs. the majors!), here’s where I breathe easier having an agent instead of being signed to a label like I always thought I wanted:

1) More creative control.  Seriously – my agent may suggest character types for me, but he’s never told me how to approach anything.  So whatever I create, it’s mine.  Unlike a label, which may tell you how to dress, how to act, and even how to write.  (The biggest pet peeve of signed artists that I know.)  Oh, yeah, and if the label doesn’t like what you’ve written, then they’ll make sure it never gets released.

2) Financial freedom.  While I suppose it would be nice to be fronted $50,000 and flown to London to record my new, soon-to-be platinum album, it’s also the best way to get into debt if your label suddenly decides they don’t want to promote your album.  Or worse, drop you.  I don’t get any advances from acting, but I also don’t have to freak out about the money so much.

3) So what if you’re a bottom feeder?  Every label has their one or two major acts that carry the rest of the artists on the roster.  From what I can tell, agents have much the same hierarchy.  But at least, see Point #2.

4) No long term contracts.  I mean, there are contracts, yes, but I think two or three years with one agent is a lot nicer than being stuck with a label for 10 albums.  Ten albums?!  That’s a lifetime for a musician.

5) I can work with whomever I want.  Union affiliation aside (for actors), I don’t know how many times I met an awesome songwriter, hit it off, asked to co-write with them… and was told, No, I can only work with signed artists.  Are you kidding me?!

6) Ten percent to an agent is a lot easier to accept than 10 cents per album sold after the label, producer, studio, musicians, etc. get their cut.

7) Riders?   Let my agent deal with my contracts.   No more worries about having important contract points be ignored by promoters.

Artist development.  Ironically, I think some acting agents still do that.  But nowadays, music labels don’t cultivate careers unless they’re already in place.

Everything I just mentioned above kept me from actively pursuing a label deal.  (And I thought about it, let me tell you.)  I’ve heard countless horror stories about labels, from “they’re just glorified banks,” to “they spent a ton of money on our band and then dropped us and we owed them everything” to “they shelved my music and I can never play it live again without getting sued.”  But if the worst story I hear about an agent is “they don’t send me out enough,” then all I can say is, Stop complaining.

No Comments | In: acting, music, my life | | #