“You’re good at playing the weird character. But you don’t have to do that all the time,” Keli suggested.
“I can’t help it,” I responded. The other artists in the workshop laughed.
In the moment, I felt discouraged. I’d always used my strangeness as an advantage. Saying bizarre and sometimes ignorant things usually garnered laughs from the audience. I had become comfortable being an oddball.
But once I gave Keli’s correction some thought, I realized she was absolutely right.
I don’t have to be weird all the time.
I’m learning as I go in this process. And what I’m recognizing is my own tendency to limit myself within the boundaries of certain characters I create. I’ve hidden behind humor in the same way. A scene might be good with some humor and a out-of-this-world lines, but how can I elevate myself beyond the comfort zone of playing the fool?
I have to be myself. And if I don’t know myself, I want to figure myself out. I know for sure that in everyday life I only sometimes play the fool. Sometimes, I play the dumb female jock–physically strong but intellectually incapable of creating something. Sometimes, I play the child–naive and hopeful, sweet and begging for protection. But seldom have I embraced my own true existance as a real woman, a real human being for that matter. I’ve been playing from my head and not my heart.
What on earth will happen if I come to the performance from a place of love and compassion? Of humility? Of a need to be forgiven? Of stress and chaos of adulthood? Of the reality of feeling like I have such unanswered potential? What if I bring my need for validation as a human being and not as an actor?
These are the questions I want to explore. Later this week, I’m going to be auditioning for a spot in another improv troupe in town. And honestly, forget the audition–I just want to play. And I want to play better than I ever have before. Best case scenario, I get a spot. Worst case scenario, I’ll make a few new friends. Sounds like another win/win to me.
Actors Love The Process 