Archive

Best Wishes Vol 1:1

SPRING/ SUMMER ’07

right now, most of the practitioners i know, including myself, possess invaluable experiences that are largely left to be forgotten. supposing that it is a few lines or several pages, what would you write down if your broadcast were now airing?

BEST WISHES is a letter writing project that attempts to document the experiences of practitioners connected to theatre in nova scotia, canada.

scroll down the page to read the editorial, and the letter of invitation, or skip directly to the letters.

you can also download the hard copy by clicking on the link:
Vol 1:1 Flickr Site!

::Editorial

JOE says: (10:43:13 AM)
If you received a letter when you were starting as a theatre practitioner that would have changed your life, what would it have said

harvey says: (10:43:47 AM)
hm. good question…

harvey says: (10:44:22 AM)
depends on what i wanted to read, i guess…
isn’t that the irony… you see what you want to.

JOE says: (10:45:59 AM)
ah

harvey says: (10:46:01 AM)
no one liked questions at school

JOE says: (10:46:08 AM)
really?

harvey says: (10:46:21 AM)
mmm.. unless it was how do i get an agent

harvey says: (10:46:31 AM)
or how do i look

JOE says: (10:46:36 AM)
hahaha

harvey says: (10:46:37 AM)
very frustrating

JOE says: (10:47:26 AM)
everything happens for a reason

harvey says: (10:47:32 AM)
true dat

JOE says: (10:47:58 AM)
So what platform can we build with our contributors

harvey says: (10:48:18 AM)
we ask people to reflect on themselves

harvey says: (10:48:39 AM)
and write that to someone they can imagine in a similar boat

JOE says: (10:49:40 AM)
Or if they could critique themselves as a ‘newb’.
what would tell yourself to stop doing, or to do more of…?

harvey says: (10:50:03 AM)
mm

JOE says: (10:50:26 AM)
Stop talking so damn much and listen, is what I would say to myself

JOE says: (10:50:47 AM)
years ago and even today!

harvey says: (10:51:02 AM)
really?

JOE says: (10:51:26 AM)
That’s how I feel about myself sometimes

harvey says: (10:51:52 AM)
mm… listening is the hard part… you have to be touchable to listen

JOE says: (10:54:05 AM)
Did you ever meet someone who reminds you of yourself when you were younger, and you want to like them, but they seem to annoy you in ways that you hope you didn’t annoy other people when you were their age.

JOE says: (10:55:02 AM)
i have met a few people like that

harvey says: (10:55:08 AM)
no, i haven’t

harvey says: (10:55:38 AM)
i do recognize people at certain points in life that i was at though

JOE says: (10:55:39 AM)
Is it weird that I get anoyed by people who I think are like me?

harvey says: (10:56:58 AM)
that’s funny, but nobody is like you though… we are different people depending who we are around… perhaps they are provoking something from inside you that you dislike

JOE says: (10:57:24 AM)
true

harvey says: (10:57:55 AM)
i think we should each write a letter with these ideas in mind

harvey says: (10:58:08 AM)
and one that asks for something

JOE says: (10:58:14 AM)
Ok that sounds good

::Letter of Invitation

FIRE IN THE HOLE

Friday May 26, 2006

To Whom It May Concern:

I frequently wish I could have a conversation with a future version of myself. I imagine this exchange to be like a cosmic transmission through space and time – a message broadcasted from an individual who has already walked the path that lies ahead of me.

Right now, most of the practitioners I know, including myself, possess invaluable experiences that are largely left to be forgotten. For instance, we can all reflect on the realities and challenges of making theatre in Nova Scotia today, but what will be documented from these
experiences for the generations tomorrow? Given an opportunity, the practical knowledge communicated in these words might be surprisingly useful, especially to a practitioner at the beginning of their career.

What we are inviting is for you to write a letter that can be included in a zine. Whether you address it to a starting practitioner or a younger version of yourself, it is a message that relays the journey that you have taken. Supposing that it is a few lines or several pages, what would you write down if your broadcast were now airing?

Best Wishes,

Dustin Harvey
Joesph Unrau

::Andrea Dymond

Dear Andrea,

After ten years in the business as a professional theatre artist, this is what I’ve learned:

It’s Either Feast or Famine:

There will come a time- the Feast- in which you will have more work and work opportunities and times to be creative that you will know what to do with. Cherish these times; they will be what will fuel you in the lean times, the Famine periods where you are starved for work, experiencing drought-like conditions, where your creativity shrivels up into itself, threatening to never appear again. At the same time, this famine period allows you an opportunity to reflect and reassess what you are doing. It gives you some breathing space between projects. No one can be creative all the time; as artists we need these famine or, as I like to call it, fallow times in which to recharge our creative batteries and reflect on where we are and what we are doing and how to better attain our goals.

Stay Connected with your Artistic Community:

Being an artist is a lonely business sometimes. At times you will need to withdraw from the environment to regroup, rethink, reassess. However, don’t remove yourself so far from the community that you disappear. Our community seems to have short-term memories and if you don’t stay involved, you can and probably will be forgotten. Find a group of like-minded individuals to hang with, to boost your confidence when you’re feeling low. As payback, you will be asked at some point to do the same for them. Give freely.

It’s Not What You Know, It’s Who You Know:

As unfair as this statement is, and while it is not entirely true all the time, there is some truth to it. It also underlines why it is so important to stay connected with other artists; you never know what opportunities may arise just because you’re visible on someone’s radar screen. That doesn’t mean that should always rely on networking connections to get you to where you want to go. Hard work will often be recognized. Your reputation is also important and is only as good as you can make it, so be as well prepared for anything as you can be.

The Road to Success is Not a Straight Line:

Flexibility as an artist is key; it even allows one to grow artistically. Don’t be afraid to think outside the box of what being an artist means to you. You may want to be an actor but writing a play or teaching theatre games to children will both colour, in positive ways, what it may mean to be an actor which will make you a better actor in the long run. Or you may discover something about yourself that takes you in a totally new direction which is also a good thing. On the other hand, try not to become boxed in or pigeonholed, especially as a young artist. People are very anxious to put labels on who we are and what we do. This often closes doors too early that would have been better left open.

Finally, if you stop growing, stop experiencing new things, stop enjoying what it means to be creative, then stop being an artist. And above all, “to thine own self be true.” It is hard sometimes to be a one-person cheering squad but if you believe in yourself, other people will believe in you and your abilities as well.

Merde!

Andrea Dymond

::Ben Stone

Dear A Young Practitioner, August 30th 2006

The spirit of theatre is an elusive ghost. It is scary and hard to find. To conjure this spirit you must be courageous, sensitive and generous. Do not try to give it a name or explain it, or understand it. Do not examine it. Play with it. If you play with it, the ghost will reveal itself. Don’t pretend to play with it. It knows when you are faking it. When you are really at play with the spirit of the theatre, you will know. Don’t get discouraged when the ghost doesn’t appear. It very seldom does. If you haven’t had a visit from the ghost in a long time, you must play lighter and be more sensitive and generous with your spirit. Listen and watch, leave room for the ghost, it can only appear if you give it the space to appear.

Also – It’s only the theatre. It’s not a war.

Yours Truly,
A Young Practitioner.

::Garry Williams

Don’t worry if you don’t get awards. Interesting work is always ahead of its time. Just do the work.

Remember: art is not a business. People will try to tell you that it is. Administrators and beaurocrats are not your friends. They can be useful, but they all want to make money off of you. Art is not a business.

In your line of work you will meet some of the kindest, most interesting people on the planet. You will also meet some of the most arrogant, competitive people. Hold on the interesting ones, and let go of the arrogant-competitive ones. Be a kind, interesting person.

Document your work. Keep your programs, reviews, fan letters and photographs – get large black-and-white prints, and frame them. These will give you hope in your moments of self-doubt. They will also be invaluable for establishing credulity for yourself as an artist.

Keep busy. An artist should create something new every day. Artists don’t go to work; they live to work.

Develop your skills. Keep refining them. Don’t take short cuts or easy-ways-out. The journey is the thing.

Don’t be embarrassed of doing bad work. It is inevitable. You will learn more from your failures than you will from your successes.

Find people you trust, with whom you can work. These will be your friends and colleagues. They will buy you beer when you’re broke, improve upon your ideas, and take care of your loved ones when you’re out-of-the-country. Work with people you can trust.

Take on challenging projects. The ones that frighten you most will help you grow. Learn to be a problem-solver; if you already know all the answers, then you probably need to ask some new questions.

Dare to live as you like. What works for most people doesn’t work for artists. You have to be creative with your life.

Share your achievements. Be generous with your knowledge, your resources. Learn from your peers. Believe in the artists who will come after you, and those who have come before you. You cannot create in a vacuum. Be an inspiration to future generations, and culmination of the past.

GaRRy Williams

::Jacob Zimmer

Dear Young practitioner,

So, a list, since these letters seem to comprise of lists of does and don’ts. Take these a suggestions. If you disagree, do so with vehemence.

First, the best advise I ever received: read everything. There is no excuse for not knowing what is going on in the world.

See as much as you can. Theatre is a local and time based art form – so you might need to travel. Look at paintings for what they can teach you about theatre – also architecture and everything else.

Make work that excites you. Be honest about this, about what excites. If you like it, others will – you’re not that unique.

Develop a sophisticated pallette. This requires work and thinking, but is worth it.

Learn how to do everything in the theatre. because at some point you’ll have to.

Learn to throw a good party, since this a similar skill to making a good play.

Don’t let knowing how to do everything stop you from working with other people. They will make you better.

“Simpler, with more laughter” B. Brecht

Have something to say and say it. You can change your mind later.

Find some people you admire and ask if you can work for/with them. Not only will you learn things, but you’ll meet people who can help you.

Understand your priorities. If a quiet middle class life is at the top, it would be best to switch fields.

Don’t shit where you eat.

Joy and fun are NOT roadbloacks to serious art. Nor are they sufficient cause.

Don’t join Equity too early. Or maybe at all. Depends on what you want to do. But definitely think about it in a real way.

Work with people you’ll like hanging out with. There is a lot of hanging out in the rehearsal room.

If you need something, say so out loud as often as it can be worked into conversation. People have things, and access to things, and you’d be surprised how if you just ask everyone, you’ll come up with what you need.

Call the Grants Officers, and ask them questions – that’s what they’re there for. But don’t wait until the day before the grant is due.

Pick time and commitment over talent, always. (in memory of Marc Diamond)

Find out what excites your collaborators about the project and ask them to do that. This will wield better results than telling them what to do – though is less predictable.

Take care of your student loan. Seriously. Switch your main chequing account away from the bank your loan is in. This helps if you don’t take care of it. But really, take care.

Everything matters – from the poster to the lobby to the seating, all of this is also the show – take as good care of it as you do the material on stage, if not better.

Most people are happy to help, since they’ve needed help before and will again.

Don’t wait. Make the theatre you want to see now. Make the theatre you want to be in.

There are few jobs, so make your own.

There are few theatres, so make your own.

And finally,
Bring it. Be as fierce and fearless as you are considered and rigorous, and things should work out.

Sincerely,
Jacob Zimmer

::Leigh Ann Vardy

Letter to a young theatre practitioner;
From Leigh Ann Vardy

Dear Theatre Tot,
Bless your heart for joining us in the Nova Scotia theatre community. We need you. We need to hear what you have to say. I’m not really the type to give advice, but I will try it here, just for you.

First of all, for christ’s sake, stay open. Listen. It will help you. There is no right and wrong way to make theatre – it is a series of choices made. The more you listen, the more true collaboration can happen. And when it happens and it’s great, you will marvel at how your ideas have blended beautifully with the ideas of others, and how the whole is much more interesting than the individual ideas and that’s what is so magical about live
performance.

Second, get to know what your aesthetic is. What is your story? What makes you excited? What makes you think you have something to say? How do you want to say it? Ask yourself those questions. A lot. Once, while touring in a far off land, I stumbled drunk into the washroom at a bar, and on the wall of the stall was written:
“WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF YOU KNEW YOU COULDN’T FAIL?”

Third, when touring, read the walls of the washroom stalls.

Fourth, respect and support those around you. We live in a very small community full of wildly talented people. One of the things that make it special is that we support each other. Of course, that’s not always the case, but it should be, so let’s strive for it.

My last bit of advice to you is to ask questions. None of us know it all.

I’ve said enough. I wish you all the best.

Leigh Ann

::Natasha Macellan

I’ll address this letter to my two younger cousins who each intend to enroll in theatre schools in the next year.

Dear Hilary and Kayla–

Welcome! We’ve been waiting for you. We’ve saved space and are so happy you decided you needed to join us.

I assume that after all of your schooling you now know lots about the theatre; you know what you like about it, what you want to do in it and why you chose it. So I am going to write about stuff I’ve learned by working in it. The lessons of working any and every job that came my way over the last eight years.

One of the first things I caught on to was that saying “yes” is a valuable skill. You’ll be shocked how few people say “yes” to jobs they are offered. I’ve said “yes” to every theatre job I’ve been offered (with the exception of a literal handful that overlapped with other jobs I’d already said “yes” to.) When I started out I assumed I was going to be an actor. That’s what working in theatre meant to me. But, ever since then I have directed, stage managed, bought costumes, made costumes, built props, painted sets, built sets, made posters, written programs, written plays, adapted plays, sorted files, sent e-bulletins, photocopied, licked stamps, poured drinks, paper mached, raised funds, made trays of food, decorated for parties, swept floors, judged scripts for national competitions, taught people of every age how to do all of the above and from time to time, I’ve even gotten to act. I always work as hard as I can. And as best as I can. I keep a smile on because I am lucky to have the job and it’s worked for me. Because it leads to more work.

My ability to say “yes” without discrimination has gotten me a lot of work. I’ve worked with amazing people, visited beautiful and interesting places and seen and participated in some amazing theatre. Recently though I learned how saying “yes” to everything without discrimination can burn you out. So the second thing I learned through working was that I need to place a value on me. On my time, skill and artistic opinion. The value can be monetary or artistic. It may pay really well, but the work isn’t going to be great. Or the work will be amazing but the pay isn’t great. Or I’ll travel somewhere cool but I’ll actually lose a few bucks by taking the job. It’s about the payoff. There needs to be one. And I’ve learned that if I line up too many jobs where there is no payoff then I become irritable, depressed and begin to resent my decision to work in theatre.

I’ve learned by working what good theatre is. I’ve been in the rehearsal room with some amazing artists-geniuses- who have asked my opinion when something isn’t working. At first I tried answering with what I thought they wanted to hear. I’m not always confident that I do know what’s good. I’m insecure, I’m overwhelmed, I’m shy. But there is a little voice in me that knows. A quiet little voice that I need to listen to more. If I could just turn the volume on that voice up so that it couldn’t be ignored anymore, I’d be set!

It comes down to faith, really. You need to have faith in yourself and your abilities. We enter this profession with faith–faith that there is space for us, faith in our ability to earn a living and faith in our own voice. So the last thing I know I’ve learned is: working hard, doing my best and loving my work is is my way of ensuring that it will all work out. I have faith in the work I’ve done. I do all I can today to ensure I get work tomorrow. And it always has worked out.

So, these are my words of advice. Say “yes” to every job that offers you some sort of payoff. Work to the best of your ability all the time. Have faith in yourself and it will work out.

Good Luck to you.

Your older and not much wiser cousin,

Natasha

sell your cleverness and buy bewilderment

PS. Last night I was thinking about my line “the payoff can be monetary or artistic.” Can you add “or otherwise” to the end of that? I don’t want it to read that its ony money or art.

::Teresa Patterson

Teresa Patterson
Wolfville, Nova Scotia

June 24th, 2006

RE: Fire in The Hole

To A Young Practitioner,

When I completed my studies in theatre, it didn’t take long to realize that the studying had only just begun. And it will never end. No matter what kind of training, experience or education you may obtain, there is always something else to learn. What a young practitioner and a seasoned veteran have in common is a love of theatre and a need to learn more.

In order the facilitate learning, I got involved with community theatre in every aspect. I became a member of the board of directors, worked front of house, auditioned for parts, co-directed and directed, offered my help as stage manager, assisted with costumes, and asked many questions about lighting. Community theatre is just that – community. It is conducted by members of the community to bring to the same community, entertainment for all.

Theatre is not just any one of the above mentioned aspects. It is the culmination of all of them that make for successful shows. Everyone must work together, and leave their egos at home. I find it fascinating to watch a show come together. When a decision is made to do a particular show, to auditioning and casting, to directing, producing, lighting, managing, learning all those lines, sitting in the audience, to escorting patrons to their seats, there is never a show that does not teach.

My advise to you, young practitioner is to pay attention to all the aspects, learn something new with each new show that comes your way. Take part in any aspect that you can. Be a part of the audience when you can. The whole is greater than the sum of its’ parts.

Thank for the opportunity to express my feelings on theatre.

Teresa Patterson

::Shahin Sayadi

Letter to a Young Practitioner:

The Essentials

theatre?
movies.
back alleys…herbal cigarettes…mr. noodle
regular bowel movements
pong
$1.25 shows at the fringe
plans…no plans…direction…no direction…fun…no fun…rules…no rules
you-the amateur
others-the professionals
fuck the professionals
next step…fuck them good
booty calls over a coffee…. booty calls for a coffee
politeness
bbc news
pencil…hammer…duct tape…black duct tape
eat
drink
throw up
rinse and repeat
…
good luck
september 2006…Shaggyandmachine

::Sue Leblanc

A letter to myself…

Dear Susan,

It feels strange for me to think of you as you are, having just finished your fancy theatre degree, and ready to take on the world. In fact, I feel pretty unqualified to give you any sort of advice at all (since, you being 26 and everything, probably don’t want to hear it anyway). Oh yes, don’t think that I don’t remember how much you already know as you step out of Studio 2 for the last time, clicking your jazz-shoed heels behind you and ready to arrive directly in the land of classical theatre and English Gentlemen directors, who will guide your ascent to stardom and land you alongside the likes of Colm Feore and Cynthia Dale. Of course, on your way there, you will make courtesy stops at the mandatory houses of Canadian cutting edge (found in Toronto, of course), giving a polite nod to those who were part of the real Farm Show (you LIVED together?? You left the CITY?? Suckers.) Yes, these are the days of looking ahead, and the future is so bright, you have to wear shades (from Biscuit – some things do not change). One thing is for sure: you will NEVER do a commercial for a product you don’t believe in.

I predict it will not take you long to realize that the future of your creativity does not reside in Southwestern Ontario, and you will do something not many of your age and kind do these days: you will choose to stay in Nova Scotia. Congratulations. Now, seven years after I made a similar decision, as a reward for my patience and ability to “stick with it this long”, I, in the wisdom that comes with being ALMOST 33, have written you a little gift: an informal list of “things to do, and things to remember” as you start out as an actor.

In no particular order… (wisdom cannot be ordered, young self)

-Follow your inspiration. Learn from those whose work you love watching.

-Go see a LOT of plays. It will help you figure out what you like and what you don’t, and it may help you be able to articulate “why”.

-Making theatre that you like is more important than making theatre that makes you money.

-It is ok to do an Aliant commercial every once in a while (you won’t melt).

-Do not neglect your relationships because of your desire to make theatre; rather, let them fuel each other.

-Be generous with everybody, especially the people you are working with.

-Remember: It is only a play.

-Try to avoid making almost-witty lists about what you know. Rather, keep learning so much that you don’t have time to write things down.

-Exercise humility.

So there you have it. A very smart person used to say to me “To be a good actor, you have to be a good person.” It is a hard pill to swallow, but I think that it is true. Good luck.

Signed,
Your older self.

::Alex McLean

To: Unknown Destination

From:
Alex McLean
September 12, 2006.

Dear Young Practitioner,

I find it hard to dispense advice. I write something and it doesn’t quite ring true. It seems beside the point, unnecessary. It seems like it could distract from what should be important to a young practitioner. So what is necessary? What do I need to say and what might you need to hear?

This is perhaps a good place to start. Essentials.

I rat-tat-tat away on my keyboard:

Dear Young Practitioner,

Chase the current.

Occasionally, there is an unmistakable and contagious electricity generated between people who are gathered somewhere. For me, this electricity is the essence of theatre. It is perhaps akin to the spark that caused the first cell to divide, the first symbol to be painted on a rock, the first play to emerge from a ritual. It is a revolutionary assertion of something we all too frequently live without. In the moment in which it occurs, press releases and director’s notes cease to be important. We tune in to something else. Then, we go out for a drink, chat for a while and life goes on.

I think that we are all hungry for electricity. It is, however, a hunger easily ignored. The world around us, in general, plays to a more regular beat. I think that art, at its best, inspires in us a renewed sense of possibility. It has been my experience that theatre rarely provides this; when it does provide, however, it is astounding.

I always shudder a bit when I write something like this. My mind harkens back to other such statements I have encountered prefacing work that is overwhelmingly banal. I believe that I believe it, but when it is given voice I can’t help but wonder to what purpose. Who am I trying to impress? Who’s the man behind the curtain? Does the emperor have clothes?

And what a treacherous path I would lead you on, Young Practitioner. Electricity in theatre is not easily achieved. We’re talking friction. We’re talking potential insomnia, periods of horrendous self-doubt, self-abuse, distractedness and anxiety.

You can probably bring those things on yourself, without my help.

And so we’ll shift focus. Specifics:

Dear Young Practitioner,

Don’t be afraid to learn from people. Sometimes, at a young age, you are convinced that you are a genius. You probably aren’t. Find people whose work inspires you and learn from them. Work under their guidance if possible, but at the very least watch them closely. Then find the people with whom you will collaborate. This is usually a messy process, but all involved will notice when things click. And you stand to learn the most from the people with whom you work.

A sense of entitlement will not help you master your craft.

Dear Young Director,

Be sensitive to people’s ears. Nobody likes being yelled at or straining to hear. Dim lighting will only get you so far. Nobody likes the careless banging of feet against risers or the banging of props on tables. Nobody likes the feeling that the people on stage are expecting a particular reaction. Every production has its own mystery and rehearsals are an encounter with that mystery. Plays that display a blind reverence to a text are as exciting as church. The spaces are vital (this is true with an actor’s lines and movement as well as with ideas). No text will speak for itself. Avoid sets that shake when someone shuts a door.

Dear Young Writer,

I’m not really a writer, but if your play is no more interesting than your press release, maybe there is something wrong. I have to believe that it is good to write from the heart.

Dear Young Actor,

Be a player. You can only be yourself, but you can still be many things. Aim for the subtle, but remember that subtle is not the same as boring or lazy. Beware of gurus and people who tell you to lose your ego. You are at the heart of what theatre is. Be restless in life. Fundamentalists hate and have always hated you because you have the power to invent the world. Find the pleasure of words. Find the pleasure of making action. Find the game you are playing with your audience. There is no good excuse to be boring. Listen. You don’t need to justify or defend yourself. Listen.

Needless to say, no matter what you do, there are always people willing to be listened to. If you are the start-your-own-company type, you’d do well to give an ear to administrators and cultural program officers. You’d also do well to listen to those who have been down the autonomous arts organization road. And a bumpy a road it is. Think of it as the Wild West – the ground is always shifting, every time someone hits gold people flock to it, and the people who win out aren’t necessarily the best, but the ones who learnt how to shoot from the hip.

Stanislavski once said to the actors in his company, “Mediocrity always wins in the end.” I often think of this, and there is a lot of evidence on his side. We are lead by mediocre politicians. We receive mediocre visions of the world and, in turn, accept mediocre versions of ourselves. The theatre of our time rarely seems a force to be reckoned with, its audiences are rarely young, and its offerings rarely as good as film or a good book.

So why continue to do it? Is it purely habit, wishful thinking? Why another rehearsal period of stumbling in the dark to find that rare and temporary flash of light? Why engage in an act that seems to so many empty and ineffectual? I know of no answer that serves more than a political purpose.

Dear Young Practitioner,

A teacher once said to me, “No one is waiting for your art. The world is not holding its breath. In the end, you will do what you do because it is necessary.”

And here we are again: necessity.

Dear Young Practitioner,

Do what you have to do.
Remind yourself of this when you are 32.

Best regards,
Alex McLean

::List Of Contributers
All the people you see listed below made this issue possible:

Alex McLean

Andrea Dymond

Ben Stone

GaRRy Williams

Jacob Zimmer

Leigh Ann Vardy

Natasha Macellan

Shahin Sayadi

Susan Leblanc

Teresa Patterson

EDITORS:

Joseph Unrau

Dustin Harvey

::NOW, this from Kiersten Tough:

Dear…

On September 8th in the year of our Lord nineteen hundred and ninety eight you will move back to Halifax feeling a bit like a dog beaten by it’s own tail. There will be a large crack in your heart put there by someone who, for these purposes, will remain nameless. I could attempt to protect you from this scar by telling you how you received it but what the hell, shit happens. So no words of warning from me: at least on that subject.

So why am I bothering to write this to you if not to keep you from doing certain things that I feel now, in hind sight, would be better undone. I’m not sure at which point in time this will reach you perhaps you are falling in love with that guy you know THAT guy, good luck with that one, or perhaps you are discovering that life out of school is not the glorious wonderland you’d imagined with candy covered mountains and lost civilizations behind every door. If at this point in the letter you are fed up with my crankiness and would rather hear about the good times let me tell you there are none…gotcha, I’m just kidding there’s lots of great things and truly amazing people and beautiful scenery and great sex so please read on.

I decided that the most useful thing I could tell you would be which of those things that you hold onto that you think someday you’ll use and that really you won’t so throw them out the window early and don’t take them with you.

-Your first headshots are terrible for the love of all things holy don’t give them out, throw them out the window, it’ll feel really good.

-Your resume on purple paper is not worth the extra cost so skip that or if you’ve printed them already, then out the window they go… if you’ve already handed them out use being drunk as an excuse.

-There are those high heel shoes that you got at Junk and Foibles and are convinced you will wear at some event. There is no event that will ever require you to wear those shoes and they take up a lot of room, out the window with them, while you’re at it the polar fleece whale hat with the googly eyes can go too.

-Your voice tapes from Dalhousie; you will not need to listen to yourself doing spinal rolls and humming for three hour stretches no matter how deep and resonant you sound.

- Your grade twelve math book, really you think you’ll need that?

- The blue flowery dress with the big rip in it.

-All those preconceived ideas about what you’re going to do as an actor.

-Doubt

-Fear

-Judges( you know those voices in your head that tell you everything is crappy)

- On second thought take them all with you since you’re so convinced you’ll need them and throw this letter out the window.

- Never trust some disembodied voice from the future telling you things that you should and shouldn’t do it only has its own interests at heart. For instance I only want you to think how clever I am and how right I will be some day about all those mistakes you made. That goes for people who hand out advice too easily or claim that they have it all figured out, we are all in the dark with only a small mag. light to guide us and occasionally the batteries run out.

-Perhaps in ten years time I will write a letter to my present day self, saying not to write this letter, for reasons I can’t see yet and I will throw my own advice out the window.

Yours Truly,

…

P.S. When you get those reviews from THAT critic, you know the one I mean, read this first.

“ Any reviewer who expresses rage and loathing for a novel is preposterous. He or she is like a person who has put on full armour and attacked a hot fudge sundae.”
-Kurt Vonnegut

THANKS KIERSTEN!!!

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