Odd Jobs

I sing at a church. I do this for money. It's a job I've had for two years now, making it - sadly - the most consistent job I've had since graduating college in '98 (this is Geoff again, by the way). During the course of an average week, I attend no fewer than four Catholic masses. In "high volume" times (holiday seasons, a spike in funerals), I've been known to sing at up to ten.

While I was sitting through my third sermon on the day's scripture readings - which dealt, incidentally, with how a wife must be subordinate to her husband - my mind started to drift toward memories of other jobs I've held. The list is as long as it is bizarre.

In no particular order, these jobs have included:

Delivering pizzas
Delivering newspapers
Cleaning carpets
Drug store clerk
Liquor store clerk
Record store clerk
Luggage store clerk
Delivering student mail
Office assistant
Box office assistant
Toy demonstrator (I swear I'm not making that up)
Fitness center staff
Store greeter
Restaurant host
Waiter
Bartender
Caterer
Concessoinaire
Telemarketer
Ice cream truck driver
Door-to-door knife salesman

Okay, that last one is sort of a half-truth. I was trained as a door-to-door knife salesman. Luckily, better judgement took over before I actually went out and brandished a bunch of sharp knives in front of total strangers.

This, friends, is part of the glory of chasing a career in the arts - the survival job. That thing we do to pay rent while pursuing work in the theatre (sometimes, depending on the gig, it's that thing we do while also working in the theatre). These tend to be jobs that any brain dead monkey could do, but that allow us the flexibility to go out on auditions, take classes and - should we be lucky enough - accept theatre jobs that may take us out of the city for weeks or months at a time. I don't know of a single actor/writer/etc. who doesn't feel that this work is inherently beneath them, but it's a part of the life we've chosen. So we suck it up, strap on our aprons/nametags/hairnets, and go on.

Hi-diddle-dee-dee. An actor's life for me.

And yet, there is an upside. An artist has nothing to draw on save their own experience. If that experience were limited to merely hanging out with other artists, they would find themselves with limited material. So, while plodding away at menial jobs can be frustrating and depressing, the artist does have the opportunity - nay, the responsibility - to open their eyes and ears to the world around them in these times of soul-crushing, ego-shattering "employment".

Now, this is not to glamorize working in the ranks of the unskilled labor force. And for the record, I would like it known that I have absolutely despised every survival job that I have ever been forced to work. But it is to say that opportunities surround us at every stage of our lives, whether we're immediately aware of them or not. We are then presented with a choice - take advantage of the down time, or let it sink us.

As I reflected over that long list of very odd jobs, I can't say that the passage of time has made me nostalgic for "the good old days". I currently make my living in what I like to call "theatre-related" jobs, which means that, while I'm not currently in an actual show, I do work jobs that require me to utilize the skills and training I have as an actor and singer. And that's fine with me for the moment. However, the time may come (and that right soon!) when I'll once again have to suck it up and add a new entry to my ever expanding list of things I've done for a buck.

But here's the kicker.

None of those jobs - either individually or taken as a whole - are nearly as bizarre as the job that all of us in the performing arts are striving for: to don a funny costume, step out in front of a large group of strangers and - against all common sense - bare our souls to them.

Anyone who says artists aren't crazy is kidding themselves.

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Greetings, friends!

Howdy. Geoff here. Welcome to "The Write Minds" - the official blog of Write Club NYC. Whereas the main pages of our website will serve to - as the kids say - "pimp" our theatre company, this page will be a chance for us to voice our opinions on a wide variety of topics. Of course, us being theatre folk, you can imagine that most of our rantings will have to do with the current state of our chosen profession. Yet we reserve the right to spout off about pretty much anything whenever the mood strikes us.

To kick this party off, I'll begin with a confession: I never wanted to start a theatre company in New York. I moved here from college (Boston Conservatory rules!!) in 1998 with the hopes of building a career as an actor. The whole, "Hey, guys! Let's start a theatre company and do it for ourselves!" thing struck me as a bit naive and - dare I say it - desperate. There's a system already in place. Instead of trying to buck that system, why not concentrate on becoming a part of it and moving up the ladder?

Eight years later, I have the answer to that question. (No, I'm not going to go off on a rant about how biased the system is or how much it sucks or some other bitter thread like that. I got my bitterness out of the way in my twenties.) The truth of the matter is (and this is far more terrifying), there is no system. No system, no logic and certainly no ladder upon which to climb. I've known people who shot to success very quickly with work on Broadway and in television who, after their brief run was over, couldn't get cast as an extra on a reality show. I've known enormously talented people who have spent years on the fringes of success doing work as understudies, bit players on T.V. and in smaller theatre venues who should by all rights be reaping the benefits of that work, only to find that they are still, inexplicably, "paying their dues". I myself have been involved in a couple of high profile projects that I hoped would launch me to the next level, only to see all my hard work and high hopes go up in smoke.

But I don't blame the system. There is no system.

So, while the launching of a company may seem somewhat Quixotic, it also makes a certain amount of sense. If there's no real order to the chaos, why not try to create a little order for ourselves? And with no actual system in place, then there's really nothing to stop us from forming our own company, is there? And even if the venture fails (as most ventures of this nature do), we can still look back one day and say, "Yeah. We made that."

So here's to the start of ... something (I'm raising my mug of coffee right now). On behalf of my fellow Write Club members, I hereby welcome you all to the party.

Cheers!

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