Actors are some of the most driven, courageous people on the face of the earth.  They deal with more day-to-day rejection in one year than most people do in a lifetime.  Every day, actors face the financial challenge of living a freelance lifestyle, the disrespect of people who think they should get real jobs, and their own fear that they'll never work again.  Every day, they have to ignore the possibility that the vision they have dedicated their lives to is a pipe dream.  With every role, they stretch themselves, emotionally and physically, risking criticism and judgment.  With every passing year, many of them watch as the other people their age achieve the predictable milestones of normal life -  the car, the family, the house, the nest egg.

Because actors are willing to give their entire lives to a moment - to that line, that laugh, that gesture, or that interpretation that will stir the audiences soul.  Actors are beings who have tasted life's nectar in that crystal moment when they poured out their creative spirit and touched another's heart.  In that instant, they were as close to magic, God, and perfection as anyone could ever be.  And in their own hearts, they know that to dedicate oneself to that moment is worth a thousand lifetimes.

© 1998 David Ackert

The Day Before: My agent calls. How I love to see that number on my caller ID. “You’ve got an audition.” Next thing I new I’m looking at new material. I read it over. I sound great in this role. I want this part. I start preparing. I get coaching. The seedling of the character takes root in my heart. I’m fantasizing about what my life will be like when I’ve booked it. I already know how I’ll spend the money they pay me. We’ve just met, but the part is already mine, and I belong to it. We are inseparable.

The Day Of: The lobby is full of people who look vaguely like me. Their lips move in silence as they do my part. Jealousy. Betrayal. How could my part do this? I thought we had something special. I feel like I ate broken glass for lunch. I muster professionalism. “Good luck,” I tell another actor as he heads into the room. I hope he makes an ass of himself.
It’s my turn. I am announced. The reader acting with me sounds passionless and bored. But I pour myself completely into my performance. I give it my best. (Is my best good enough?) “Thank you,” they say. “Nice job.” (Did they mean that?) Suddenly I’m back in the lobby. It was over so quickly. The next actor is already in the room. I hear laughter through the door. They didn’t laugh like that when I read.

The Hour After: My car is on the freeway. But I am still in the audition room, playing my performance over and over in my head. I should have done the ending differently. I paid my coach a hundred dollars. Why wasn’t I better prepared? I’m too hard on myself. I was great. I hope they saw that.

The Day After: My phone rings! No, it’s not my agent. What’s taking so long? Are they deliberating? Could they honestly have given my part to someone else? Separation sets in. Heartbreak. My part is lost. (Breathe, don’t do this to yourself.) I’ll bet it was the funny actor who went in after me. That bastard didn’t deserve to get it. (It’s just an audition. There will be others.) I’ll never work again.

The Week After: I haven’t had an audition in a really long time. Maybe I should switch agents. This is not a career. A career is where you go to work every day and get a paycheck. This is an exercise in self-deception. I should just give up. I’m withering inside. My dreams are like clouds in someone else’s sky. I’m wasting my life on hope.

The Day Before: My agent calls. How I love to see that number on my caller ID…

© 2008 David Ackert