- Published on
So, you move half-way across the world
To be in theatre
And drama school is over and
You find yourself... temping.
Answering phones, writing emails
Being part of the corporate cog
“Good morning, [insert company name]. One moment please-”
Transferring the call to persons unknown somewhere else in the building
And, for a bit, it was kind of fun.
Seeing the insides of buildings across London
Meeting new people
A new job every day,
But it was also exhausting
And a little depressing
So many people are just so unhappy
This daily slog.
And one day you find yourself back in the theatre,
In front of house
And it was a job you did for seven years
Once upon a time ago.
And walking into your first shift
Even though it’s a whole lifetime/a world away/10,000 miles apart
It’s like coming home
The instant familiarity of it,
The rows of seats
(A to H, no Row I so as not to confuse people, though this theatre has a Row O)
The smell of hazer
The smell of theatre dust.
The instant friendship and family that theatre people become
The not insignificant army of people that make a show happen
Consider before you’ve even sat in your seat
The book writer and composer and orchestrator and director and casting director and agents and actors and choreographer and musical director and musicians and designers and ops and builders and painters and dressers and stage managers and stage door persons and ushers and bar staff and theatre manager and a myriad of people have
Played their part
For the 7.30pm show start
And the lights go dim
And you watch the audience watching the show
And, like Amelie who turns around in the movie theatre
To see the peoples faces,
You find a joy in watching their expressions
Observing their collective laughs and moments of surprise
And although you still want,
More than anything,
To be up on that stage,
For now, this is lovely.
Being paid to be part of it all
And knowing, at least you’re in your house
And this world
With its strange hours
And lack of sunlight
And legion of folk all trying to
Make It
And the insistent dedication required to
Make It Happen
Is the exact world you want to be in.
The end.
To be in theatre
And drama school is over and
You find yourself... temping.
Answering phones, writing emails
Being part of the corporate cog
“Good morning, [insert company name]. One moment please-”
Transferring the call to persons unknown somewhere else in the building
And, for a bit, it was kind of fun.
Seeing the insides of buildings across London
Meeting new people
A new job every day,
But it was also exhausting
And a little depressing
So many people are just so unhappy
This daily slog.
And one day you find yourself back in the theatre,
In front of house
And it was a job you did for seven years
Once upon a time ago.
And walking into your first shift
Even though it’s a whole lifetime/a world away/10,000 miles apart
It’s like coming home
The instant familiarity of it,
The rows of seats
(A to H, no Row I so as not to confuse people, though this theatre has a Row O)
The smell of hazer
The smell of theatre dust.
The instant friendship and family that theatre people become
The not insignificant army of people that make a show happen
Consider before you’ve even sat in your seat
The book writer and composer and orchestrator and director and casting director and agents and actors and choreographer and musical director and musicians and designers and ops and builders and painters and dressers and stage managers and stage door persons and ushers and bar staff and theatre manager and a myriad of people have
Played their part
For the 7.30pm show start
And the lights go dim
And you watch the audience watching the show
And, like Amelie who turns around in the movie theatre
To see the peoples faces,
You find a joy in watching their expressions
Observing their collective laughs and moments of surprise
And although you still want,
More than anything,
To be up on that stage,
For now, this is lovely.
Being paid to be part of it all
And knowing, at least you’re in your house
And this world
With its strange hours
And lack of sunlight
And legion of folk all trying to
Make It
And the insistent dedication required to
Make It Happen
Is the exact world you want to be in.
The end.
- Published on
I’m so proud of my kids tonight
For the past three weeks:
“Project! Articulate! Every word is important!”
Daily drills.
Feel your feet. Activate the breathe. Let go.
I’ve felt a bit like Mama Rose
“Sing out, Louise!”
Hoping I’m not nearly as crazy as she was.
But I get why she does it.
You can see the potential.
Hear the voice that’s dying to come out
And it’s just hidden by inhibition
Or from lack of ever trying.
And you sit in on the rehearsals.
And you work through the score.
And you stay up late
And you wake up early
And you hope that all the hard work will be worth it
And you get to show night
And suddenly there’s that extra element
That is simply not available in rehearsal,
The audience.
And your children lift their game,
And you sit watching their show
(It’s theirs now, they own it.)
And you feel like you’re in one of those TV shows
And you’re watching the show like a montage
Except you know every word
Every bit of blocking
And the director is sitting to your left
And every now and then you look to each other and laugh
Or worry about a delayed cue
Or a missed line
And you hear the audience go wild at the end
Cheering your kids
And you feel an immense sense of pride
In your work.
And you thank each and every actor
For all the lessons they have taught you.
The end.
For the past three weeks:
“Project! Articulate! Every word is important!”
Daily drills.
Feel your feet. Activate the breathe. Let go.
I’ve felt a bit like Mama Rose
“Sing out, Louise!”
Hoping I’m not nearly as crazy as she was.
But I get why she does it.
You can see the potential.
Hear the voice that’s dying to come out
And it’s just hidden by inhibition
Or from lack of ever trying.
And you sit in on the rehearsals.
And you work through the score.
And you stay up late
And you wake up early
And you hope that all the hard work will be worth it
And you get to show night
And suddenly there’s that extra element
That is simply not available in rehearsal,
The audience.
And your children lift their game,
And you sit watching their show
(It’s theirs now, they own it.)
And you feel like you’re in one of those TV shows
And you’re watching the show like a montage
Except you know every word
Every bit of blocking
And the director is sitting to your left
And every now and then you look to each other and laugh
Or worry about a delayed cue
Or a missed line
And you hear the audience go wild at the end
Cheering your kids
And you feel an immense sense of pride
In your work.
And you thank each and every actor
For all the lessons they have taught you.
The end.
- Published on
It's a very ancient saying
But a true and honest thought
That if you become a teacher
By your pupils you'll be taught
I've learnt that in spades these past few weeks
Every moment of jaw tension
Every freak out at "not being able to"
Every moment of self-imposed fear
I see myself in my students
Understand what they're going through
It's exciting to watch them make progress
It's frustrating when they repeat the same mistakes over and over
It's wonderful when they have their own "ah ha!" moments
They lead me to my own
Getting to know you
I'm learning
Me
Realizing everything my own teachers were drilling into me over the past year
The only thing holding me back is myself
How many times do I have to discover that?!
Again, and again, and again it seems
The strange relief of it.
It's not something I'm not getting
It's not something impossible and out of my reach
It's the voice in my own head that keeps saying
You can't, you can't, you can't because.
Because of X.
Because of Y. Because of Z.
It's all the same.
Tell the voice it's not serving you right now.
Focus on the work.
Do the exercises.
And trust, trust, trust that you'll get there
Eventually.
The end.
But a true and honest thought
That if you become a teacher
By your pupils you'll be taught
I've learnt that in spades these past few weeks
Every moment of jaw tension
Every freak out at "not being able to"
Every moment of self-imposed fear
I see myself in my students
Understand what they're going through
It's exciting to watch them make progress
It's frustrating when they repeat the same mistakes over and over
It's wonderful when they have their own "ah ha!" moments
They lead me to my own
Getting to know you
I'm learning
Me
Realizing everything my own teachers were drilling into me over the past year
The only thing holding me back is myself
How many times do I have to discover that?!
Again, and again, and again it seems
The strange relief of it.
It's not something I'm not getting
It's not something impossible and out of my reach
It's the voice in my own head that keeps saying
You can't, you can't, you can't because.
Because of X.
Because of Y. Because of Z.
It's all the same.
Tell the voice it's not serving you right now.
Focus on the work.
Do the exercises.
And trust, trust, trust that you'll get there
Eventually.
The end.
- Published on
It’s when you get inside the theatre
And you can smell the hazer
And see the depth of the stage
That you remember what all these hours have been for
You walk through the wings
And stand under the glow of the lights
And feel a sense of relief
Feel like you’re home
The delicious adrenalin sheer hard gut busting work of it
Because sometimes you do wonder why you’re here
Standing in line with hundreds of others
Belting as high as they can
Articulating gesticulating and explicating
But it’s the relief of being there
On the stage
Working with the director and the lighting designer and the costume designer and the stage manager and the musical director and the musicians and the ensemble and
All the myriads of people who work unseen to make the magic happen
Not really magic
Just sheer hard work and determination
Hour upon hour of rehearsal
Sometimes you wonder where a whole afternoon went
Because when you look at the script, you’ve only covered a page!
But the continual repetition and drilling and finding meaning in the text
Is where you find the magic
Meters of fabric
A team of dedicated souls
And a room
Become transformed into countless other worlds
Where people sing and dance and act
Often at the same time!
And it makes you so happy
Makes your blood pulse through your very being
And reminds you why it is you chose to be here
The end.
And you can smell the hazer
And see the depth of the stage
That you remember what all these hours have been for
You walk through the wings
And stand under the glow of the lights
And feel a sense of relief
Feel like you’re home
The delicious adrenalin sheer hard gut busting work of it
Because sometimes you do wonder why you’re here
Standing in line with hundreds of others
Belting as high as they can
Articulating gesticulating and explicating
But it’s the relief of being there
On the stage
Working with the director and the lighting designer and the costume designer and the stage manager and the musical director and the musicians and the ensemble and
All the myriads of people who work unseen to make the magic happen
Not really magic
Just sheer hard work and determination
Hour upon hour of rehearsal
Sometimes you wonder where a whole afternoon went
Because when you look at the script, you’ve only covered a page!
But the continual repetition and drilling and finding meaning in the text
Is where you find the magic
Meters of fabric
A team of dedicated souls
And a room
Become transformed into countless other worlds
Where people sing and dance and act
Often at the same time!
And it makes you so happy
Makes your blood pulse through your very being
And reminds you why it is you chose to be here
The end.
- Published on
Many philosophers have agreed
That in order to be happy
People need to be gainfully employed
And now that I’ve been unemployed
For the past six months
I understand this more than ever
I’ve never had trouble getting work until now
Being a student
Living in London during a recession
Times are tough
It’s the best of times
It’s the worst of times
And is it a portal into my future?
Choosing a career where I am likely to be
unemployed for long spells of time
Every actor goes through it
I remember reading Michael Caine’s autobiography
And his depression at watching his friends get jobs around him
His friends not get jobs around him
The despair
And the heartache
And coming to London and giving up everything
I’ve ever known
To be living in the hope of the next job
And when I finally get even a tiny bit of work
The relief, the satisfaction
Spending an evening with lovely people
Well-heeled folk with a passion for supporting the arts
The student-actors gathered around the left-overs
Living the bohemian dream
The reality is so much tougher
Much scarier when you’re not sure how you’ll meet the next rent
Pay for next week’s groceries or travel pass
Because you’re living on sheer determination and hope
And praying praying praying that all this
Despair and heartache will be totally completely worth it
When one day you can say you’re earning your living as a performer
I am an actor
I am living the dream
And it’s even better than I could have imagined
The end.
That in order to be happy
People need to be gainfully employed
And now that I’ve been unemployed
For the past six months
I understand this more than ever
I’ve never had trouble getting work until now
Being a student
Living in London during a recession
Times are tough
It’s the best of times
It’s the worst of times
And is it a portal into my future?
Choosing a career where I am likely to be
unemployed for long spells of time
Every actor goes through it
I remember reading Michael Caine’s autobiography
And his depression at watching his friends get jobs around him
His friends not get jobs around him
The despair
And the heartache
And coming to London and giving up everything
I’ve ever known
To be living in the hope of the next job
And when I finally get even a tiny bit of work
The relief, the satisfaction
Spending an evening with lovely people
Well-heeled folk with a passion for supporting the arts
The student-actors gathered around the left-overs
Living the bohemian dream
The reality is so much tougher
Much scarier when you’re not sure how you’ll meet the next rent
Pay for next week’s groceries or travel pass
Because you’re living on sheer determination and hope
And praying praying praying that all this
Despair and heartache will be totally completely worth it
When one day you can say you’re earning your living as a performer
I am an actor
I am living the dream
And it’s even better than I could have imagined
The end.
- Published on
In the morning you go out to meet another Aussie-expat and you go to a lovely Australian/New-Zealander cafe called Flat White and enjoy your renewed-found love of coffee. You make a note-to-self to find an alternative to espresso, as even four sugars per tiny cup seems excessive - though it is down from five. You enjoy delicious toast with homemade hummus and fresh avocado. It is the best hummus you have had in ages but you spend the rest of the day paranoid you reek of garlic. Afterwards you walk through beautiful
St James's Park to the War Rooms. There are ducks and geese and swans and a woman is hand-feeding them over the fence. You think she is a bit mad, but realize that these birds
are probably rather used to people hand-feeding them.
The Churchill War Rooms are bizzare. They are secret bunkers for the British War Cabinet during The War. Small and slightly claustrophobic and when the war ended the people literally turned off the lights, walked out, closed the door, and didn't come back for decades. Now the rooms and corridors and bunkers are a museum and you can walk through and see exactly how it all was over seventy years ago. Imagine being in the rooms Back Then. The rooms would have been smokey because everybody smoked back then, and above you the world was falling apart and you didn't know if when you left work for the day (or night) if your house or even your street was still going to be there when you did. No one except the government was allowed to know that you worked there because it was Top Secret. If you were a secretary you had a special gas mask that allowed you keep talking on the telephone even during a gas attack. The War Stops For Nobody.
You walk back to Soho to the Soho Theatre Bar to mingle with other drama students. You are late, but it seems you haven't missed much except a free drink. A casting director is giving a talk. She says things you have mostly heard before, but you're feeling light and inspired and you scribble down some of her points and feel a sense of renewed enthusiasm. Then you wander around the room and meet some of the other actors. They are all graduating this year too, ready to go out into the Big Wide World and try their luck at this acting thing. Will all this time and money and effort be worth it?
You meet a girl with Scandinavian/American heritage. She wants to move to New York and live the life of a starving actor. She knows it's a bit weird to want that life, but you understand what she means. It's New York. And then you meet a boy who gives you the feeling that he is on the cusp of something brilliant, but you're not quite sure what it is, but
you're sure he is destined for great things. And then you meet another girl who is interested in verbatim theatre and using theatre to make a positive difference to the world. And it is nice to meet someone as excited and passionate as you about the possibility of theatre.
You head home on the tube. And you get home and you make chickpea patties, which you haven't made in the longest time, and you make a big batch of quinoa and steam some spinach. And you spread a little beetroot dip from yesterday's cooking adventures on the chickpea patties, and you pour out a little sweet chilli sauce. And you sit at your desk to do some work and you breathe and smile and know that you have had a most wonderful
day.
The end.
St James's Park to the War Rooms. There are ducks and geese and swans and a woman is hand-feeding them over the fence. You think she is a bit mad, but realize that these birds
are probably rather used to people hand-feeding them.
The Churchill War Rooms are bizzare. They are secret bunkers for the British War Cabinet during The War. Small and slightly claustrophobic and when the war ended the people literally turned off the lights, walked out, closed the door, and didn't come back for decades. Now the rooms and corridors and bunkers are a museum and you can walk through and see exactly how it all was over seventy years ago. Imagine being in the rooms Back Then. The rooms would have been smokey because everybody smoked back then, and above you the world was falling apart and you didn't know if when you left work for the day (or night) if your house or even your street was still going to be there when you did. No one except the government was allowed to know that you worked there because it was Top Secret. If you were a secretary you had a special gas mask that allowed you keep talking on the telephone even during a gas attack. The War Stops For Nobody.
You walk back to Soho to the Soho Theatre Bar to mingle with other drama students. You are late, but it seems you haven't missed much except a free drink. A casting director is giving a talk. She says things you have mostly heard before, but you're feeling light and inspired and you scribble down some of her points and feel a sense of renewed enthusiasm. Then you wander around the room and meet some of the other actors. They are all graduating this year too, ready to go out into the Big Wide World and try their luck at this acting thing. Will all this time and money and effort be worth it?
You meet a girl with Scandinavian/American heritage. She wants to move to New York and live the life of a starving actor. She knows it's a bit weird to want that life, but you understand what she means. It's New York. And then you meet a boy who gives you the feeling that he is on the cusp of something brilliant, but you're not quite sure what it is, but
you're sure he is destined for great things. And then you meet another girl who is interested in verbatim theatre and using theatre to make a positive difference to the world. And it is nice to meet someone as excited and passionate as you about the possibility of theatre.
You head home on the tube. And you get home and you make chickpea patties, which you haven't made in the longest time, and you make a big batch of quinoa and steam some spinach. And you spread a little beetroot dip from yesterday's cooking adventures on the chickpea patties, and you pour out a little sweet chilli sauce. And you sit at your desk to do some work and you breathe and smile and know that you have had a most wonderful
day.
The end.
- Published on
Imagine one day you’re in London and you’re Living The Dream!
You’ve wanted to be an actress your Whole Life
And suddenly here you are!
At one of the top drama schools in the world!
And every day you climb the steps to the school and
Literally engraved into the rise of the steps
Are the names of people who’ve been here before.
People who have “Made It”
In the profession
This crazy business like no other.
Because what would it be like if your dreams actually came true?
What if you grew up and actually got to be who you wanted to be?
What if you were Mary Donaldson, an account manager from Tasmania? And what if one day you were in a pub in Sydney and this really attractive guy starts flirting with you and you think, “Gee, I like this one.” And you hang out for a few days, and the air is warm and the sky is blue, and it’s all rather festive because it’s the Olympics, and a few days later he turns to you and he says, “By the way, I’m the Crown Prince of Denmark. If you like me, like, like like me, you’re going to have to renounce your citizenship, learn Danish, and promise to bear my children. In exchange you get to a princess. Like, for real.” What do you do in that situation?
When people talk of Living The Dream, they don’t mention the self-doubt, or the
worry, or the anxiety.
Or that actually living the dream feels and looks different to what you
expected. Or that it could even be better than what you've imagined your
whole life, and that’s the overwhelming part?!
Did Mary sit in her room one night and pour her heart out to her best friend and say,“Ohmygod. I don’t know. I mean he’s wonderful. And I really love him. But he’s a prince!
An actual prince?! Isn’t that ridiculous?!”
Because what if you are,
What a prince would envision?
Although how can you know
Who you are till you know
What you want, which you don’t?
You know what you want. And you want to be an actress. And one day out of the blue,
without any guide, a chance to audition fell into your lap, and you seized it, and it worked out well, and you moved to London. And after all this training, you want to write and dance and sing and act and tell stories and have someone with money pay you to do it. And you want to reach out to people to make this world a better place. And you want to talk about what’s going on around you in an interesting and theatrical way. Because nothing else excites you like that idea. Literally no other job in the world has as much appeal.
You’re here. And you’re Living The Dream. And as Sondheim’s Cinderella says, yes,
“Sometimes it’s scary... And you have to wary.” But you keep going. And trust, trust, trust that the universe knows what it’s doing with you. Because one day, you just might end up not just on the steps, but inside the palace, and it just may be wonderful.
The end.
You’ve wanted to be an actress your Whole Life
And suddenly here you are!
At one of the top drama schools in the world!
And every day you climb the steps to the school and
Literally engraved into the rise of the steps
Are the names of people who’ve been here before.
People who have “Made It”
In the profession
This crazy business like no other.
Because what would it be like if your dreams actually came true?
What if you grew up and actually got to be who you wanted to be?
What if you were Mary Donaldson, an account manager from Tasmania? And what if one day you were in a pub in Sydney and this really attractive guy starts flirting with you and you think, “Gee, I like this one.” And you hang out for a few days, and the air is warm and the sky is blue, and it’s all rather festive because it’s the Olympics, and a few days later he turns to you and he says, “By the way, I’m the Crown Prince of Denmark. If you like me, like, like like me, you’re going to have to renounce your citizenship, learn Danish, and promise to bear my children. In exchange you get to a princess. Like, for real.” What do you do in that situation?
When people talk of Living The Dream, they don’t mention the self-doubt, or the
worry, or the anxiety.
Or that actually living the dream feels and looks different to what you
expected. Or that it could even be better than what you've imagined your
whole life, and that’s the overwhelming part?!
Did Mary sit in her room one night and pour her heart out to her best friend and say,“Ohmygod. I don’t know. I mean he’s wonderful. And I really love him. But he’s a prince!
An actual prince?! Isn’t that ridiculous?!”
Because what if you are,
What a prince would envision?
Although how can you know
Who you are till you know
What you want, which you don’t?
You know what you want. And you want to be an actress. And one day out of the blue,
without any guide, a chance to audition fell into your lap, and you seized it, and it worked out well, and you moved to London. And after all this training, you want to write and dance and sing and act and tell stories and have someone with money pay you to do it. And you want to reach out to people to make this world a better place. And you want to talk about what’s going on around you in an interesting and theatrical way. Because nothing else excites you like that idea. Literally no other job in the world has as much appeal.
You’re here. And you’re Living The Dream. And as Sondheim’s Cinderella says, yes,
“Sometimes it’s scary... And you have to wary.” But you keep going. And trust, trust, trust that the universe knows what it’s doing with you. Because one day, you just might end up not just on the steps, but inside the palace, and it just may be wonderful.
The end.
- Published on
People have been asking "How London is going?" It’s wonderful. It’s exhilirating. It’s exhausting. It’s one of the toughest things I’ve ever done. The past few weeks have been a slog and I confess I’ve been rather down. Every day has been filled with self-doubt, worry that I’m not good enough, and much self-despising talk inside my head. What am I doing here in the middle of a recession training for a career where there are minimal job prospects and ridiculously tough competition? I’m here for love. Because nothing else makes me happier. And knowing that there is nothing else on earth I’d rather be doing, I meditated. I listened to musicals. I journalled. I read inspiring blogs. I watched inspiring videos. I obsessively followed Seth and Sharon. I talked with friends and loved ones. I channeled some [Title of Show] goodness and I told that little bitch of a voice inside my head “DIE VAMPIRE, DIE!!!!” Being a musical theatre actress may be scary to some people. At times it is even be scary to me. And facing my demons in possibly the scariest thing I will ever do. But facing them with spirit fingers, and shiny dances, and all-singing, all-technicolour glory is
exactly how I want to do it. This Halloween, I'm dressing as the thing that frightens me the most. Myself. And I'm going to make like Buffy and kick some vampire-inner-demon butt. The end.
exactly how I want to do it. This Halloween, I'm dressing as the thing that frightens me the most. Myself. And I'm going to make like Buffy and kick some vampire-inner-demon butt. The end.
- Published on
The British Library, London
And it's nearly 1am
And you're wired
Because you've spent the last seven hours reading about musicals in Australia
And you're a bit frustrated because you can't access all the journals you need to
And the more you read the more you want to know
And every now and then you have "ah ha!" moments
And you feel like you get it and it all makes sense
And then you re-read your notes and realize you need more material to back up what you're thinking
But you have a mighty list to go and tackle the British Library with tomorrow
And that makes you so excited
Because you love learning and reading and theorizing and trying to make sense of it all
And you're really grateful you did that podcast thing last year
Because you have all these quotes and useful bits and pieces up your sleeve
And your sensible self tells you to GO TO BED ALREADY!
But your inner writer needs to VENT!
And your soul needs to calm down because it's so excited
So you promise that NOW you will go brush your teeth, and meditate, and journal, and
sleep
To start all over again tomorrow
The end.
And you're wired
Because you've spent the last seven hours reading about musicals in Australia
And you're a bit frustrated because you can't access all the journals you need to
And the more you read the more you want to know
And every now and then you have "ah ha!" moments
And you feel like you get it and it all makes sense
And then you re-read your notes and realize you need more material to back up what you're thinking
But you have a mighty list to go and tackle the British Library with tomorrow
And that makes you so excited
Because you love learning and reading and theorizing and trying to make sense of it all
And you're really grateful you did that podcast thing last year
Because you have all these quotes and useful bits and pieces up your sleeve
And your sensible self tells you to GO TO BED ALREADY!
But your inner writer needs to VENT!
And your soul needs to calm down because it's so excited
So you promise that NOW you will go brush your teeth, and meditate, and journal, and
sleep
To start all over again tomorrow
The end.
- Published on
Sharon Wheatley's blog
Sometimes you are down and out and feeling really crappy. And you feel like drama school is just code for "expensive creative therapy." And you've spent the day questioning yourself and doubting yourself and feeling super frustrated that your top notes aren't where you want them to be. And feeling like It Is All Really Hard. And then you come home and you make a massive batch of rice and lentils and carrot and leek and beans which you stuff into freshly baked capsicums and your flatmate has cleaned the bathroom and it doesn't feel so share-housey anymore and you have an amazing internet connection which gives you access to the world. And you have a really good cry. And then you stumble across blogs of Broadway
actresses and you read them and remember that "the journey" is at times just "hard" but dear child, you never walk alone. And you can still smile. And you can still be inspired. And you can go to bed feeling like the sun will come out tomorrow. The end.
actresses and you read them and remember that "the journey" is at times just "hard" but dear child, you never walk alone. And you can still smile. And you can still be inspired. And you can go to bed feeling like the sun will come out tomorrow. The end.