In a recent conversation with a drama school graduate, as she worried about half a year passing since leaving training without an offer of acting work, I was reflecting on some of the coping strategies I’ve developed to deal with the ebb and flow of work over my 24 years in the job (which have been characterised by a great deal more ebb than flow).
One of the most important has been developing a middle ground of self-worth irrespective of success or failure. Actors meet rejection more frequently than most other professionals – it’s a monthly, sometimes weekly, reality. So, being able to hold fast to a sense of my own ability, whether or not it has gained me a job, has been key. This was probably the first capability I had to learn, particularly as my first job didn’t land until almost 18 months after leaving drama school.
Soon after that, I realised I had to find the same strategy in reverse. That is, understanding getting a job didn’t mean that I was ‘better’ in any way. If I wasn’t going to allow the failures to get me down, I figured out that it would be very bad for me and my mental health to get too inflated by success. Because the reality has been that after any success soon comes another string of failures.
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Of course, that’s easier said than done. Writing these paragraphs has been relatively simple; the emotional reality of living this tidal pattern of wins and losses has not.
It is true that ‘work breeds work’. I’ve taken this to mean that the strength of self an actor can carry into an audition from being in work at the time, or fresh out of a job, is a state of mind that allows us to be open and courageous, which is often quite appealing to a prospective employer. It’s also true that you and your talent need always to be connected. You, I, any actor, need to feel like a creative creature, no matter when the last job was.
Which brings me to my other significant coping strategy: to have other creative outputs in life that are not acting.
Our sector sometimes struggles to accept that creatives can do more than one thing
For me, that creative output was writing. That may not be the outlet for everyone; it was the one that worked for me. Unfortunately, this coping strategy comes with inbuilt challenges because it’s also optimal for an actor to be always available, always ready to take on a gig. Having other creative commitments can often prevent this perpetual availability.
Two weeks ago, I experienced the joy of having a long ago-commissioned piece of writing announced for production by Sheffield Theatres. A number of actor friends got in touch with congratulations, happy to know that it is possible to be a creative in more than one sense. I also had a few messages from other creative colleagues asking: “Does this mean you’re no longer acting?”
It absolutely doesn’t. I think our sector in this country sometimes struggles to accept that creatives can do more than one thing. Be more than one thing. For me it has been my only way to survive, sometimes hopefully thrive, in theatremaking.
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