One of the advantages in turning to acting later in life is that I’ve learned to research those areas where my experience is limited, to assess thoroughly the career advice I’m getting (since I’m paying for it out of my own pocket) but in the end to always trust my own judgment (since it's held me in good stead in the past). Certainly there are many wonderful acting instructors and coaches – wonderful actors themselves often. But outside of Los Angeles, New York and London many times what we encounter are instructors who are themselves struggling to get a career off the ground, or instructors whose experience and reputation is in local theatre. However much we admire them, they may not have every answer and their wisdom may not always be sound.

Another factor is that there is no single approach to acting, and that we pretty much have to find out for ourselves what works. But while sorting that out we may have to dodge bad advice – if we recognize it. For example, I do a lot of reading on the acting profession and one of the things I’ve read again and again is that auditors most appreciate monologues (when they ask for them) that show something of your personality, something that moves them or charms them in some way. They want to like you, in part because they're thinking ahead to what it will be like to work with you. What they do not want to see is a piece heavy on the “ick” factor – no monologues that have you stepping on gerbils, disrobing, shouting or raising mental images that make them feel embarrassed or uncomfortable during your audition. In fact, there is one obscure play - I think it's The Woolgatherers - that some auditors hate so much they will stop an actor from doing his monologue rather than endure any scenes from that play again.

Some months ago, I took a class from an instructor who has some reputation locally. The first day the class met I told her I was looking for a new monologue – something moving or charming. She said she had one she thought would work for me and that I might want to include in my repertoire for auditions. Well, given her reputation I was thrilled. After class I snatched up the monologue and rushed home anxious to read this gem and start learning the lines.

Well, hmmm. You know, I can accept the need to challenge yourself as an actor and to stretch beyond your comfort zone, but the monologue she recommended was not one that I would have ever performed in an audition, in class, or even in front of my most trusted friend. It was unbelievably icky! So much so that I am convinced that performing it publicly would have given me quite a reputation of my own locally and been a serious set back to my career. That the instructor thought that particular monologue was appropriate for auditions made me question her judgment and her advice. Consequently, I immediately transferred out of her class.

But how many budding actors get tripped-up by something like that? Probably at least some of those doing monologues from that much hated play mentioned above.

Crunch time. Looped the audio last weekend for a film in post. Audition tomorrow for another short film. Just returned from seeing the youngest graduate from college in Colorado. Will soon start rehearsals for “Orange Juice in Bishop’s Garden.” Another audition in mid-May, this time for an industrial set to start shooting in early June. Somewhere in there I’m working a day job scripting corporate videos, writing magazine articles and finishing a drama class. It’s good to be busy. It’s also easier to get work when you have work.

I’m hoping to benefit from what actor David Millstone calls a shortage of non-union over 40. My goal is to have 8-10 short film roles in the can by the end of the year and then to add union membership to my résumé. This is my year for putting to practice what I’ve learned, and it’s a struggle - a struggle getting it natural. I would like to take another class or two, but something that really challenges me. I’ve heard that the instructors at Studio Theatre in DC are a rather exacting lot, so I may take a look at what they have to offer. By this point I’ve developed a thick enough skin to judge whether criticism of my acting is valid or not. (Most of the time it’s valid.

Just finished Paul Russell’s book Acting: Make It Your Business. He talks a lot about creating a personal brand and establishing a look and feel to all of your query materials that says you’re serious about your work. Having worked as a publicist before getting into TV and video I have to agree with that. A lot of people get into acting for the social aspects. They’re the ones most likely to remark that an acting gig was “fun.” Well, anything you do professionally should be enjoyable, but for me – and for a lot of actors – the point is to get as many opportunities to act as you can and to do it well. Creating a brand can help get those acting jobs, and acting well is an ongoing personal improvement project.

It will soon be summer. Bah!

Two short films in post production. Shot the last scenes for one on Saturday - in a cemetery no less - and drove home thinking, what now? I haven't managed to line up anything as a follow on. Got home and checked my email and learned I had landed a role in Orange Juice in Bishop's Garden, Otessa Ghadar's web series about growing up in DC in the 1990s. It begins shooting Season 3 in June. Absolutely thrilled! I will play Jill Davis, the mother of Remi. Scripts to follow.

Season 2, which added parents and teachers to the cast, will be posted next week so I will have a chance to see more of the adult characters. Not to discount the younger ones. Many of the teenaged actors are from the Duke Ellington School for the Arts and very comfortable in front of the camera. Extremely talented. More on the series when I hear more.

I learned a few things this week, which made it a good week. One was the effect of costuming on movement. One of the films had me playing a detective, making my way down a dark DC alley with a prop gun and holster on my hip. The director remarked that I walked just like Mariska Hargitay of Law & Order SVU, and it was true. The weight of the gun changed my center of gravity and my walk became totally different. Drama instructors say you need to rehearse in costume; now I can see why.

I'm also learning not to try so hard to "act," which is probably part way to becoming more comfortable and natural in front of the camera. I really think that much of what I learned for acting on the stage is proving to be a stumbling block for acting in film. I need to unlearn it to connect with my character and achieve the kind of authenticity I want. When I start thinking too much about gestures and expressions I start thinking about me and stop reacting to my scene partner.

You'd think I would have learned some of this in four years as a television producer, but political talk shows are a different game altogether and I wasn't consciously analyzing what was going on as a performance, although certainly it was.

Anyway, happy, happy. To bed.

You know that dream everyone has where you’re back in high school and it’s final exam week, only it suddenly dawns on you that you haven’t been in class all semester, have no idea what you’re going to be tested on, or even where your classroom is and you’re going to fail miserably and why-oh-why aren’t you more organized and prepared?

Yes, that one.

Last night I created a variation: I dreamed I was in New York and had a 3:15 p.m. appointment for an audition, only I didn’t have my monologue with me and I couldn’t remember which one I was going to use or even all the words, so I got in a cab and tried to find a bookstore thinking that, hey, it’s only 1 o’clock and I have time, only the cab gets lost and I can’t remember the address where I’m to audition and I’ve muffed my big chance and they’re never going to let me audition in New York again!!! (shriek!)

Anxiety.

Well, at least I wasn't naked.

The weekend is here. Shooting through Monday night. I must say that working seven days a week certainly helped me drop the 10 pounds I was trying to lose. Have a lead on a web series in its third season that has parts for older actors. Checking on it.

Watched Louis Malle's Au Revoir, les Enfants last night - an engaging and thought-provoking film - and was again struck by how difficult it must be to direct children and get a natural and touching performance. Children cast in American television seldom capture anything that looks like genuine childhood, but perhaps it's because they are shown talking too much and thinking too little. What I mean is, and I’m sure there’s a term for this, Malle keeps the adults’ and children’s visible emotions to a minimum, allowing the viewer to project his or her own emotions produced by the story onto each character. Julien doesn’t cry, the viewer cries. Shona Auerbach achieves a similar result in her wonderful film Dear Frankie.

I’m becoming increasingly aware of this in films and working hard to tone down my own performance so that I get less “acting” and more being. Interestingly, I’m finding that film directors seem to respond very positively to that, saying things like “I like that subtle thing you’re doing.” This is, of course, exactly the opposite advice I was given for stage work, where directors said they wanted an all out, eat up the scenery audition because it was easier to tone that down than to ramp up a performance that was too low key. All I can say is that it must take a tremendous amount of experience and confidence to move easily between stage and film.

It’s warming up. Scouting out some film work for the summer as the two short films I’m working on are wrapping up. Not as easy to find roles for older women, but something will turn up. My employer is casting an industrial for a physicians’ association on Hypo Sexual Dysfunction Disorder. I’d ask to do the doctor part, but I think I’d get the giggles. Not good.

Got a call from the local PBS station about jumping in last minute as host for a web series they’re taping for the Department of Education (a friend in the business recommended me). On three hours notice I just couldn’t do it. (Rats!) They may be looking to sign on rotating hosts for the series, however, so still a potential opportunity at some point down the road. Concerns that this might get me off message though.

Getting a pass this weekend this 25-minute film being shot up in Maryland. I’m not in any of the scenes so I can sleep late and run errands. Last weekend I was on set or en route from 10 a.m. to midnight Saturday and 8 a.m. to 9:30 p.m. Sunday.

Monday I had a drama class after work downtown that involved setting up to do another short film. This one involves a hostage situation cop scene – comedy, although my part is more ironic than comedic. (The important thing is I get to use the BIG prop gun. My “partner” gets the small one.) Fun to rehearse, but by Tuesday I was really beat.

Finished the Mark Viera book on Irving Thalberg and am now deep into Foster Hirsch’s book Acting Hollywood Style. Both of them (and my experiences in class) have me thinking about the need to create a recognizable personal image (or brand as they say in marketing circles these days). Every actor has a look, a sound and a pattern of behavior that forms the basis for getting his initial foot in the door. I need to find mine.

The old studio system, which was in existence from the 1930s to the 1950s, did a lot to help actors find their personal brand. It wasn’t just having a stable of stars under contract and putting them in as many films a year as you possibly could (although some studios did that and many actors certainly felt they were being used that way). Thalberg raised the “system” to an art form by viewing actors as raw material that studios invested in, mined, refined and protected to ensure that they retained maximum value. He would put up-and-coming actors in a variety of roles in low budget films and then track the fan mail. When he saw a spike in interest he took another look at that particular picture and role and tried to analyze what the actor was projecting that appealed so much to the audience – and then he’d put the actor into more of those kinds of roles.

That approach had the huge advantage of helping an actor to find his niche fairly quickly. Until an actor finds that he or she shows up in a lot of unsuitable roles. Take The Conversation, where Harrison Ford plays a corporate CEO’s stooge – smart but hardly the smart-aleck who endeared himself to Princess Leia. Or The Big Clock, a rather plodding murder mystery from the 1930s, starring Charles Laughton, where Harry Morgan plays a glowering thug with no lines – Harry Morgan who eventually wound up in a raft of successful comedic roles in television series from December Bride to MASH. I watched Evelyn Prentice a few weeks ago, a groaner with William Powell and Myrna Loy that introduces Rosalind Russell as a helpless, soft-voiced society woman in distress. This was a standard-issue portrayal in scores of films being made around that time, but one that completely obscures the brassy, loud-mouthed personality that made Russell a star. The movies are full of eventually great actors in initially bad roles.

I’ve been thinking about this lately because from time to time I find myself frustrated in class by a drama instructor who seems to think roles are one-size fits all or that I will learn something from trying to “act” a part that is radically different in age, gender, or personality type. (Yes, I guess I can roll around on the floor and play a baby, but where does this get me in the long run?)

So, the immediate goal is to find my niche, my recognizable brand. My height and voice seem to make female authority figures a natural fit, but it’s too easy to play those cold and come off like Louise Fletcher. That would be a bad move; if there’s no warmth, audiences don’t like you (and I don’t think they liked her unfortunately). I’m trying to be sensitive to the warmth issue and create a more nuanced authority figure, adding irony, vulnerability, intelligence, layers of personality, but without taking those elements so far that I lose the authority. Having decades of life experience, I think I can do that.

Tough week. Horrible cold made worse by the sloppy weather and the ongoing remodeling in my office. We're trying to keep up with clients amid absolute chaos. Printers disconnected. Construction debris piled up everywhere. People shifting around trying to stay out of the way of the workmen who today were painting the walls federal institutional yellow. (My, my, what was management thinking.)

But on the plus side we've started shooting the short film I'm appearing in, though it took a half box of cough drops to get me through my scenes on Sunday. This is going to be a real learning experience, as I suspect all film projects are in one way or another. The first thing I'm learning with this one is stamina. Sunday started at 5 a.m. and didn't end until 11 p.m. that night when I pulled in the driveway bone tired and with my cold taking a turn towards plague. This weekend I'm going to try and cat nap while they're changing scenes and relighting. (Where's my trailer?!)

I start my "Creating a Film Role" class on Monday with Michael Gabel and Todd Shoemaker - very excited about that one - and then I audition Tuesday night for another short film that gets underway in late March. Not forgetting the Stonehenge Auditions, but I still have to pull an audition spot out of the hat.

And tonight it's supposed to snow. Again.

I finished the book on Irving Thalberg and have been mulling over thoughts on the issue of personal branding. But that's for next time. For now I'm going to go lie down and read and think positive thoughts about how I'm not going to sneeze, wheeze, cough, snarkle and drip. I hate being sick.