Alive and Well

It has been an embarrassingly long time since I have thrown some words out here. Isn't it funny how life manages to get in the way of ...life?
When I haven't been putting hours into a short term art assignment or serving as membership chair for my local elementary school's PTA, I've been stretching my actor's legs into a shiny new discipline: the art of Voice Acting.
You never know how little you know till you know it.
In my first class I discovered:

• How fast one talks when nervous
• Accents sound worse on tape than in your head
• Voice Acting has very little to do with funny voices
• Voice Acting is actually acting

A good voice acting session uses dang near every acting muscle you have at your disposal. It had been a long time since I'd been in a classroom environment. It was nice to flex those limbs once more.
It was the resultant feeling of release that brought me to the topic at hand.
Like many actors, it can be a long time between chances to perform for me. The classroom becomes something of a gymnasium. It serves to bring back that old muscle memory. When I haven't worked out in a while, I begin to question my abilities. This can lead to wavering confidence, which ultimately leads to not putting myself out there for the world to see.
That is equal to death for those of us who have made this our lives.
So when I entered the sound booth in front of ten other classmates to work with the instructor on a piece of copy, I was more than a little nervous. By the end of the evening, I was practically singing. It was like a steak dinner after a week-long fast! I was almost overwhelmed by emotion. Ones that had clearly been bottled, bagged and tagged for far too long found their way to the surface.
The results of my time in the booth were not what was important. I probably stunk up the joint.  What was critical to me was that my joy of discovery was still alive and well. I learned new things about myself. New ways to approach this thing I love to do.
That is time and money well spent.

Net-working?

Networking.
Yup. I pretty much suck at it.
Don't get me wrong, I love meeting new people, making connections, all that sort of thing. I have caught myself talking for hours with folks I have met at parties and by the end of it, we're like old friends!
Old friends who didn't catch one another's names.
I can handle that. We will most likely bump into one another again some day, repeat the exercise and more than likely correct the faux-pas of our last encounter. Eventually, we'll get a chance to work together, realize we make a great team, and a relationship is born.
We made a connection before we realized we needed something from one another.
That human interaction can't be replaced.
My career, such as it is, has been built nicely from these chance meetings.
But, here I sit, staring at my screen, utterly confounded.
I have the power of the mighty digital age at my fingertips. "Social Media" has granted me an entirely new way of connecting and remaining connected to my fellow man. I should feel drunk with possibilities!
I don't.
The problem I encounter on line is the same as walking into a room full of strangers at some networking event. I am going with expectations. I know why everyone is there. I have a rough idea of what they do for a living. They have something I want. They know it.
What chance does small talk have in such an environment? I feel like a beggar stumbling up to you and I  haven't even asked for spare change yet.
Eventually, I digitally "chicken out". I become that awkward kid who doesn't know how to play a game the cool kids are playing. So I just sit and watch, sipping on a juice-box until I can go home.
As a result, I have become something I never thought I would:
I am a collector.
I have connected with hundreds of folks on various social media sites. I search for them, I see the kind of work they do, I request a connection. More often that not, they accept. Awesome!
...
Crickets...
...
They never hear from me again.
It feels more like digital stalking than networking.
Don't get me wrong! I am not a stalker...(wow, that sounds like exactly the kind of thing a stalker would say...) No! I am genuinely interested in learning about what they do, what kind of person they must be like. And, yes, if we might be of some help to one another. But social media to me often feels like the mutual acquaintance at that networking party who burps our names at one another and staggers away, leaving us in eerie silence, looking at our respective patches of floor.
How miserable.
We don't want to build a network. There are plenty of websites that can do that.
We want to build relationships.
Those are the ones that last.

It's me...your digital stalker. Spare change?

Who are you again?

I have a "linkedin" account. I've had one for a number of years now. Mostly it was a fun way to keep up on the lives of colleagues who come and go throughout the meandering life of a professional. It has become of more importance to me in the last couple of years. I've used it to make new contacts, share this blog with relevant groups who share my interests and begin the slow process of networking.
It's a great tool. Absolutely.
You see, I used to bill myself as a 3D Artist. Had since 2001 at least. In a career of any length, you make a lot of friends and contacts.
I have a lot.
As a result I get a lot of endorsements for my skills in those jobs. Every imaginable thing you can do creatively on a computer I get endorsements for. Hell, I get endorsements for jobs I DON'T know how to do.
The problem I encounter is that it largely represents a past life. One I had to make a conscious decision to step away from to pursue the business of acting. Don't get me wrong, it was a mutual parting of ways. My second job in as many years disappeared. It was the event that forced me to evaluate my goals and finally go after what I wanted for myself. It was a great thing.

I only recently came to understand why I keep receiving these endorsements for a life I no longer live.

I never truly declared myself. 

Not to past colleagues nor to friends. I was afraid to own this dream of mine. It was a comfort to think I could slip back into my old ways of staring at computers and punching the clock should this whole "dream thing" not pan out. 

Having something to fall back on is such a cuddly warm blanket. It means we have nothing to lose. We never have to stick our neck out. We can poke our fork around the edges of our aspirations and not take the dangerous path of cutting into that sucker.

Well, I guess this is it. Here I am world. I am declaring myself. I have a shiny new shingle on my door:

Josh McHugh. He Acts.

You don't even have to knock.

Passion play

Dreams are free. Chasing after them? You pay for that.
The biggest thing I have learned about the acting community is what a passionate bunch we are about the art we have grown to love. So much so we are willing to suffer indignation, rejection, uncertainty. Even poverty.
From the outside looking in, we must seem a crazy bunch. A pile of shiftless dreamers.
We hop off the bus fresh into Hollywoodland, alive with possibility. We are greeted by an industry who look at that enthusiasm with equal parts fondness and pessimism.
Fondness, as many of them remember those first days as a dream. Eager to get started rubbing elbows, showing the world what they were born to do. It is a heady time to say the least.
Pessimism because, frankly, not that many of us will be able to stick it out. The realities of a life in show business are ones you have to experience first hand to understand them. There is nothing you can say to warn someone who is following their dreams.
I had my own impressions of the entertainment industry. I to grew up watching "Extra" and "Entertainment Tonight". Had I discovered this path myself as a younger man, who knows down which roads my dreams would have taken me. As it was, I came to this game a little later than most. By the time I had decided to follow the call to a life in acting, I had already experienced success in a more traditional career path. I had also learned to deal with the disappointments and pitfalls inherent to a life in the arts. My enthusiasm, though large, was tempered with a dose of hard-earned reality.
Those who come out here fed on a diet of TMZ and Variety, believe that stardom is simply a matter of being discovered. Eat at the right restaurants, go to the right parties, buddy up to the right exec and bang presto, you're red-carpet bound.
"Come on phone! Ring already!"
What they fail to realize is that the "newcomer ingenues" did not simply step into the light one day, ready to take their rightful place in the performer's pantheon. That is a misconception created by media outlets to do one thing:
Sell copy.
Most of the folks we regard as stars began their journey much the same as the rest of us. They stood in cattle calls. They auditioned for bit parts in low budget features. They bused tables to pay bills. Ate ramen and slept in their cars.
 They did not do it for the money. There ain't much of it to be had, certainly not starting out.
They did not do it to become famous. There are far easier ways to do that. Just look at reality TV.
They did not do it to become a star. That is not a goal. What it takes to become a star is unknowable. You will either become one or you won't. There is no class you can take that will make it happen. Many a charlatan has paid for their sports car selling this very dream.
Why did they do it?
Because of the same feeling each and every one of us gets when we are doing what we love. It is utterly transcendent when we are doing it right. We each have a truth we want to share with the world around us. Its a brave and beautiful thing.
Follow your passion.
You may not become a star but, if you're doing it right, you won't care.

That's me in the ninja mask, swinging an ax handle. See that twinkle? A star is born.

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When I first started down this road towards acting and entertainment, I did what anyone living in the 21st century seeking knowledge would do as a first step towards following their dreams.
I consulted the Internet.
Imagine! A cornucopia of information ranging from the useful to the mundane to the downright esoteric. A few simple key words and your future awaits!
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What to do in a casting office
What not to do in a casting office
How to get an agent
How NOT to get an agent
How to not NOT get an agent
Thy cup runneth over with advice, opinions, experts, blogs, tweets. There are sites for every nuanced angle one could think of surrounding our industry. Books? I got a few shelves full of those things to.
We bear witness to all this success around us. It can be maddening. What's the universal secret I'm missing to bring this all together?
I spent much of my career simply frozen from all this advice. I didn't know where to begin. I was so afraid to do the wrong thing, cause some unseen ripple in my future that would forever crush my delicate dreams. Then I had a conversation that crystallized what all of this had taught me.
Someone actually asked ME for advice. I had somehow become part of the data stream that had crippled me so! What was I going to say to this person, so very much like myself, about to stroll down the very road I have been walking for a while?
"Nay! Turn back! I am not the way!"
Well, I screamed this very loudly to myself. Then I thought better of it.
I gave him the best piece of advice I felt secure in giving:
There is no Path.
Simply step in and get involved. If you want to act or, really, do anything you give a damn about in this life, get involved.
There is no "secret" to this business. No code of conduct. The life of an artist is not one rooted in linearity. You don't start "in the mail room". You start where you start.
It's a very brave, scary thing to do. But once done, you will be sickened by how simple it can be. By committing to simple action I have made friends, established solid professional relationships and learned skills I will take with me wherever I go.
Get out and play!
Swing a boom mic. Strike some kinos. Write a scene. Shoot that sucker. Chances are you know at least ten other folks who would do the same if asked.
Ask them.
They might even have a camera.
This life we envision for ourselves will not be a product of something imparted in one hundred and forty characters or less.
Trust me, the irony that I am giving this advice in a blog is not wasted on me. My hypocrisy is fathomless.

Show. Don't tell.

"Have a secret."
This was the easiest piece of advice I have received in an actor's studio. These words (highly paraphrased) came from the mouth of perhaps one of the finest actors of our generation, Meryl Streep. She was asked about her process as an actress. It was later shared with me by an excellent acting coach. These words changed my approach to character instantly and broke that wall between myself and the role I performed.
Consider this.
We ALL have secrets. Every single one of us hides something about ourselves deep down. The guarding of this little truth informs so many of our decisions. They become who we are outwardly in many ways. They govern who we interact with and how we interact with them. They inform every relationship we have.
If you want a strong base to develop a character from as an actor, start by giving them a secret. It will help you understand your relationship with the other actor in the scene. It will give context to every line you say. It will help stir that inner-life that shows up so brilliantly on camera. Best of all, if you lose your way in a scene, you can always return to that little secret your character has and spring back to life.
What can that secret be?
Well, pretty much whatever feels right to you and your character. It should be something that is in line with the context of the story, certainly, but ultimately its only importance is that it gets you acting.
For an example, I will return to Meryl.
In the film "Kramer Vs. Kramer" She plays Mrs. Kramer, a woman in the middle of a divorce with her husband, played by another luminary, Dustin Hoffman. She says in her interview that she created Mrs. Kramer's inner life with a simple secret, one that informed every scene she shared with Dustin:
"She never really loved him."
She never told anyone her character's secret during the entire production of the film. It was for her alone, and it was used to stunning effect.
Meryl won the Academy Award for Best Actress in a Supporting Role in Kramer Vs. Kramer in 1979.
In general, I typically refrain from giving acting advice. It is such a personal process, and honestly my own approach is in perpetual flux. I take what works, I disregard what doesn't, and I stumble on.
However, I confess that I do suffer from a healthy dose of hero worship.
When Meryl talks, I listen with every nerve that accepts raw data.
The changes to my work through this simple piece of advice were subtle yet profound. Give it a try and see what happens.

Gimme Butterflies

I get worried when I don't get worried.
Weird way to put it, but it's true. When I first started down this road, nerves used to bring me to shaking hands and a leaden stomach.
Auditions were absolutely the worst. I'd be up there, barely able to slate. Dropping a line would be a small mercy at times like that. At least it meant you could get SOMETHING out. I'd stare down the long, pitiless barrel of a video camera lens and count the seconds till I could say my "thank you's" and flee from the room.
Simply put: I wasn't ready.
Now, don't get me wrong. In my heart I was ready to swallow my fears and enter that room. Every time. I had to. I couldn't call myself an actor if I couldn't do that.
My problem was I didn't like it.
I would get a notification that I had received an audition invitation, and I would curse out loud. You'd think I just learned somebody had died.
That is not a good sign of professionalism.
I despised how nervous I got. I knew I would be spending the next two or so days agonizing over the coming doom. I got to the audition, burped out my lines and fled. Only then would I feel that immense sense of relief, like I had just dodged a parking ticket.
It wasn't until I recognized where my nerves came from that I could enter that room and know I belonged there.
Here's where it started.
I wrestled from the time I was nine years old till I graduated high school at age eighteen. I have competed in hundreds of matches in that time. I wasn't half bad at it. I wanted to puke before every single match. Every one of them. Numbers-wise, that means I spent about nine years of my young life in ulcer-inducing nervous excite.
The funny thing was that I would suffer this raw nerve until the referee dropped his hand and shouted "Wrestle!" From that moment on, nerves had nothing to do with it. You simply lived in the moment. Second to second. You had way too many other things to contend with than the state of your stomach. I was prepared and well-trained. My focus was absolute.
Sometimes I won, other times I lost. But I never left that mat feeling like I had let myself down. I gave it my all. For six minutes of my life, nothing else mattered. What nerves I did have simply fueled that explosive moment. It kept me sharp. I could shape it into whatever I needed.
That is the state I seek now in the audition room. I will never get around nerves. Indeed, I need them in my preparation. As actors, we learn to take those nerves and use them to our benefit. It is pure emotional energy. It is a gift we give ourselves.
If you have prepared yourself, know what you are going to do in that room, made strong choices, then you can welcome the nerves. It means you are doing it right.

Yup...that's fear in my eyes.