Everything Is Already Something: How To Be A Person When You’re In Tech Every 3 Weeks

Allison Page- voice of the moment.

If you’re like me during tech week, you don’t eat right, you don’t wash your dishes, you don’t do your laundry, and you may or may not have time for real actual sleep. Because I am AD at a company which produces a new show every month, I’m in tech every 3 weeks (occasionally because of the way particular months are laid out, it’s actually more like 2 weeks) and I’m getting pretty good at it…uh, most of the time. I’ve had to figure it out. Because if you do the math, I’m in tech three solid months of the year.

Here’s how I prepare for and survive tech week when it’s always just around the corner:

WEEK 1
Recover From The Last One:
I try to give myself a break. Though “break” doesn’t mean the same thing to everybody. Break, for me, means having a slow morning. I go out for pancakes I pay someone else to make down the street. Luxuriate on the couch. Read a book. Refuse to do my hair. And then I inevitably start writing something because I find that to be strangely both relaxing and work. No matter what, I try to pay attention to something completely unrelated to the onslaught of productions that have me booked up until at least April of next year.

Front Load The Home Stuff:
Dishes, laundry, cleaning, organize my apartment, go through my closet and maybe get rid of some stuff…or more accurately set that stuff in a donation pile and then forget about it for six months but hey – it’s in the pile! That’s…something. Anyway, the point is, I take care of that stuff as early on as possible because honestly everything is probably a wreck in my apartment and if I don’t do it right away I won’t get it done. Clearly I’ll just have to do it again before tech week starts, but hopefully it’ll be easier if I do the big cleaning in the first week. THAT’S WHAT I KEEP TELLING MYSELF HAHA OH MAN WHO AM I KIDDING.

WEEK 2
Hang Out With Friends:
It can be really hard to see my non-theater friends just in general, but definitely when I’m in tech this much. The second week is a good time for non-show shenanigans. Even then it can be tough, because a part of me just wants to take a thousand naps, but when I do force myself out of my apartment it feeds my brain parts and I feel better. Though I also can’t overstate how awesome it is to be affixed to my couch. Basically no matter what I want to take a nap. But yay! Friends! Oh, and call your family. Because they will inevitably try to talk to you during tech when you have no patience and they want to pass the phone around to 9 different people at your aunt’s birthday party.

Eat a Salad:
Listen, I eat like a trash can all the time anyway, but it’s worse during tech week. So when it’s not tech week, I eat real actual food. I buy actual vegetables. I make an actual salad. Maybe I’ll take a vitamin…probably not, but maybe. I also enjoy cooking, so I get some relaxing kitchen time in while I can before the anvil of tech week is tied to my ankle.

WEEK 3
Plan, Plan, Plan:
Guess what, tech is next week! GET READY. No, really, this is when I get ready. I like surprises but only when the surprises are edible. I don’t like production surprises. So, checking in with the team multiple times to make sure every possible thing is taken care of before everyone piles into the theater, sweaty and tired, is a big ‘YES, PLEASE’ for me. Stuff’s still going to come up, but I would love it if that stuff isn’t a giant obstacle that will take me multiple days to sort out.

Crockpot, How I Love Thee:
I make things in my crockpot and throw it in the fridge a day before tech week starts, so when I get home at the end of the night I can stuff my face with reheated chili. It’s also great to not have to think about what lunch is going to be when I’m dragging my carcass out of bed. Cold chicken fajita filling? GREAT. GIMME. I have a production meeting and I don’t want to be so hungry that I snap at someone for forgetting that they need a giant prop they forgot to mention the last three weeks.

Yeah, a lot of these are about food. Food is important. And Clif Bars can only get you so far.

Okay, now I’m hungry and I’m going to eat a bagel from this cafe. Nobody’s perfect.

Allison Page is a writer/actor/director/Artistic Director at Killing My Lobster.

Cowan Palace: How To Be A Better Theatre Person In 10 Simple Steps

Ashley invites you to join in her 2016 theatrical resolutions. Happy New Year!

It’s 2016! I hope by now your hangovers have subsided and you’re still feeling optimistic that this new year will be the one you finally overcome your sugar addiction while training for a marathon. You can do it!

For me, 2015 was a year of great heights and low valleys; a real rainbow of emotions. And I’ll be totally honest, guys, I spent way too many months feeling like I was standing in the center of a middle school cafeteria wondering where to sit. Crying because I felt like I had lost my place in my community, questioning my involvement in the local theatre scene.

I was naive to think that things would stay the same after having a baby. But I didn’t know how difficult it would be to navigate the space between my old self and my new found role. Now, I promise I’m not here to blab about the highs and lows of my introduction to motherhood. Instead, I want to share my list of things I think I can actively do to be a better theatre person. Because I know I can do better. So! Here are 10 resolutions I’m going to be working on this year:

1.) Reach out to someone you worked with (preferably someone who is out of state and who you may not have spoken to in a little while) and say hi.

If you’ve ever done a show with someone and made one of those magical new friendships that quickly solidifies itself over a stressful tech week or a shared love for rehearsal snacks consisting of cake, it’s easy to think you’ll always stay bonded. The truth is, you both get involved in other projects and distance pushes its way between you. So think about someone like that and reach out to them. See what they’re up to and what’s new in their world. Ask if they’re working on anything now then request they keep you updated on it. If they are close enough to see, meet them for cake. If they’re far away, send them some cake. While this won’t help your sugar addiction, it’ll probably be delicious.

2.) For every negative thing you say, say two positives.

You may not know this about me but, wowza, I’m really great at complaining and bitching about stuff. I’m also pretty good at looking on the bright side and trying to see the best in people. I lost my patience easily in 2015 when I felt like I lost my place in my theatre community. Which made me sad. And mad. And other feelings that a first grader can spell. So I’m trying something new. Sure, I can bitch and complain to my heart’s content! But lately, I’ve been trying to then come up with two “nice things” to say to balance it out. It’s a work in progress but a worthy effort, I think.

3.) Don’t Always Talk To Theatre People About Theatre

Talk about literally anything else. Seriously. Try having a conversation with someone in the theatre community and don’t use it as a way to plug a show you’re working on or gossip about a crappy production you heard about or whatever. I’m guilty of small talking people I haven’t seen in awhile and immediately asking them what show or project they’re working on these days. Boring! You can do better, Cowan! At least I’m going to give it a shot. And if anyone out there wants to talk about dessert, I’m so obviously your girl.

4.) Give A Compliment To Someone You Haven’t Met Yet

Did you see a show and love someone’s performance but since you didn’t know the actor personally, you never told them? I do this too often. Not anymore, 2016! Next time I like something, I’m going out of my way to give that praise to the rightful recipient.

5.) Promote A Show You Had Nothing To Do With

Create a simple social media post that advertises some kind of theatrical event that you aren’t involved in. Keep the artistic conversation going and help give a show some press. It’s easy and free so just do it.

6.) Ask Someone How They’re Doing

Like, in a genuine, “I actually care”, active listening kind of way. They could be a theatre person or not. Make an effort to really connect with someone. You’ll be surprised how much it may mean to them. And relating to a fellow human does wonders for your artistic soul, right?

7.) Try Not To Take It Personally

I know I’m waaaaaay too sensitive for my own good. And most likely, 2016 Ashley is going to continue that habit. I so quickly assume no one likes me or wants my company if I haven’t heard from them in awhile. Usually, the other person is just busy and going through their own series of personal roller coasters. Send them a friendly text and then calm the F down. Take that sensitive energy and use it for something productive, like catching up on The Bachelor.

8.) Try A Non Theatre Related Activity And A New Theatre Related Activity

To help keep yourself balanced and entertained, why not try a hobby that has nothing to do with theatre? Want to be a better cook? Look up some recipes online and play in the kitchen. Want to learn to knit? Cool, go pick up some yarn. When you’re done with that, consider a theatrical field you’ve had an interest in but have never pursued. Love costumes? Ask if you can help the next Theater Pub show get on that. Want to write? Check out Saturday Write Fever. Step out of your comfort zone a bit and see where it takes you.

9.) Give Someone New A Chance To Be Involved

Or simply introduce two people who you think may benefit from just knowing each other. If you get the chance to help cast a show or if someone asks you for a recommendation, don’t just go to your usual small list of friends; try to think outside your immediate bubble to those, perhaps, shyer folks who want to be involved but don’t know how to do it.

10.) Be Both Critical And Kind To Your Efforts

Could you be a better theatre person? Yeah, probably. It’s almost always worth trying. And if you can think of something that may make you better or how you can make someone else’s day, give it a whirl. Then give yourself a high five and some credit for being a part of a community and doing what you can to strengthen it. You’re awesome.

That’s what I’ll be working on, anyway. Maybe you’ll consider joining me in a quest to make 2016 our bitch? I mean, our friend? Whatever! Until next time, gang. I hope you’re all off to a wonderful 2016.

Cowan Palace: Knocked Up, Knocked Around, And The Tech Week Known As January

Ashley Cowan’s first blog of the year!

I’ll be honest with you all because starting the year as a liar would just be sad. This is the first week in my Theater Pub career that I actually forgot that I had a blog to complete and started writing it without a plan.

See, as much as I enjoy the occasional spontaneous adventure, I thrive off of color coded schedules and detailed notes. But here we are! Each day since the official new year has started, I wake up from another stress dream and greet the morning with a groggy, “FUCK! How is it already 2015?!”

I know what you’re thinking; did homegirl just drop an F bomb? Sure did, pals. That’s what happens when I’m feeling a strong emotion. Like fear. Or anger or hunger or some kind of combination from being cold. And so far, this January has inspired a lot of those feelings on repeat.

Not only is this my first year in the Bay Area without any auditions or theatrical performances planned, but it’s also the first year I didn’t create a list of personal goals or a theme to strive for (in the past I set out to focus on yearly ideas like: doing things to scare myself, being grateful, saying yes to challenges, etc.); this time around, I settled with just surviving it. 2014 was all about change and action. It was exhausting. Exciting but endlessly exhausting.

Last month when the Theater Pub team met, we decided to make January’s focus be about downtime and balance. But personally, I arrived into 2015 already feeling like it’s tech week. Like I’m scrambling to get a production magically ready in time for opening night in a crazed state. The costumes aren’t done, some of the actors aren’t off book, and we’re still waiting on crucial props to make an appearance. Unfortunately, I haven’t been feeling too balanced with downtime on my hands.

Perhaps it’s this looming state of parenthood that has been haunting Will and me. Over the weekend, we made a to-do list of all the things that we had to get done but procrastinated and were way more productive talking through how we could turn our apartment into a giant fort of pillows and blankets (yeah, we’re ready to be parents!). Or maybe it’s my insurance that ripped the ground from underneath us when they terminated their relationship with our chosen medical practice 11 weeks before this baby is due leaving us to try and find a new provider with very limited time. Or maybe it was simply being asked if we planned to take a maternity/paternity leave from the blog to adjust to the baby’s arrival and presence; something that honestly hadn’t managed to even cross our minds until we were asked about it because it’s something we’re not sure how to best answer yet.

Or maybe it’s just January! It’s not the easiest transition from the jolly holidays to the pressures of making this new year somehow better than the last. Heading back into the office or the realities of work in real pants after a few days of over indulging in festive foods and decadent desserts in sweatpants (that wasn’t just me, right?).

So perhaps my theme of the year really will be simply to survive. To get to opening night and let this production run its course. And maybe that’s okay! Perhaps surviving the everyday will give me a better appreciation for the simple stuff without needing to constantly check things off in another dream journal. Until then, let’s just be nice to each other as we adjust back into our non-sweatpant attire again.

Everything Is Already Something Week 45: Haiku For Tech Week

Allison Page shares with us the sound and the fury of tech week, summed up in haiku form.

Lights Up:
Spot light on stage right,
Actors on stage left somehow,
Look how avante garde

Wardrobe Malfunctions:
Oh you ripped your pants,
Oh you ripped them again, huh
Are you new to pants

Mush Mouth:
Did you just say “Glarp”
I have checked the script for “Glarp”,
I have found nothing

Sounds In The Wings:
A construction site,
Or an armoire factory,
Is much quieter

What Do I Do With My Hands:
Stop grabbing your shirt,
Stop messing with your hat please,
No no don’t hold hands

Big Dramatic Death Scene:
You’re dying so well,
But way way too far downstage,
You’ve died in their laps

Everybody Bleed Now:
Fight scenes are scary,
Please keep all your body parts,
It’s only Tuesday

Intermission:
Don’t eat in costume,
I’ll have to poison the food,
You’ll have it coming

Caught In A Bad Showmance:
Oh look they’re in love,
That’s sure to fall apart soon,
Don’t cry on costume

The Royal Ball:
Ev’rybody dance,
Yes that’s right with no rhythm,
I need a drink now

Object Lesson:
You’re miming a cup,
Cups are so hard to come by,
They’re just ev’rywhere

Curtain Call:
Yes please take your time,
They’ve just been here three hours,
Maybe crawl onstage

Allison Page is a writer/actor/director/wrangler of 65 teenagers for THREE MUSKETEERS opening this weekend in San Francisco.

Cowan Palace: My Nightmare Audition

Ashley and her friends sit around the Theater Pub campfire and tell tales of horror…ible auditions.

Comedy Month continues here with the Theater Pub gang where we’re all about laughing at our errors! And since I love dishing out tales of my own awkward struggles in this theatrical world (remember when I wrote this blog?) I thought it’d be fun to dedicate this week’s entry to nightmare auditions!

Thanks to some Facebook pals, I managed to get a few great tales. But if you too have an audition horror story, please feel free to leave it in the comments section! Let this be a time to celebrate our mistakes and laugh about them together! Besides, when I used to try and sneak-read Cosmo in study hall, my favorite section was always the embarrassing stories. And some of these stories are sexy too – two of them involve boobs! But first, here’s mine:

I’ve had a lot of bad auditions. Luckily, I’ve had a few good ones too but eesh, some of the bad were just awful. The one that comes to mind first when I think of “nightmare audition” was my audition for URTA (University Resident Theatre Association) my senior year of college.

New England was experiencing a brutal winter that year and I was in tech week for my senior project, acting in The Fox, a play by Allan Miller based on D.H. Lawrence’s novella by the same name. I was getting ready to begin my final semester of college and I was absolutely freaking out. Beyond terrified. So I thought, hey, maybe I can hide in grad school for a few years while I figure things out! Genius! But, ugh, I don’t want to go into more debt, I’m gonna need a school to pay for me to go there. Cool! I’ll audition for URTA, where I’ll get seen by schools all over the country and then go wherever I get in, even if it’s in rural Alabama.

That was my big plan. So my cast mate, Dave and I boarded a train surrounded in four feet of snow to head to New York City for a few hours before having to rush back to Rhode Island to finish getting our play ready.

We arrived around 1am to our college budget friendly hotel and woke around 5am to prepare for our early call. I wore a cream colored sweater and a conventional black skirt because the URTA Suggestions Guide mentioned that auditioning actors looked good in light colored tops and dark bottoms.

We got to the fancy hotel where auditions were taking place to check in and I discovered the “headshot” I brought with me (which was just an enlarged passport picture I got the day before from Walgreens) had fallen into the snow and had been ruined beyond repair. I sucked it up though and was given my audition time. (My one proud moment of the day was being placed in the time slot with the auditioners with the highest GPAs – holla, theatre nerd alert!)

Finally, it was my turn. I faked some confidence and walked into the room with a smile, my plain skirt swishing behind! I started my Moliere monologue and then blanked. Like just the worst blank in the entire world. I even asked the panel of viewers what I should do and they were boggled. They looked pained for me. Finally, I just started in on my second monologue from The Rainmaker. I completed it. But it was nothing special. After that, in a daze, I walked out of the room feeling like the entire world was collapsing in on me. I had just ruined my future. I was lost in a cloud of despair when I passed Dave. He asked me how it went and I shook my head unable to even cry. “I need to go.” I told him and I wished him luck on his audition.

Then I walked out of the fancy hotel into foreign streets. I was unfamiliar with New York City and had only been there a handful of times on school trips as a kid. It was freezing and my shoes were soaked with snow. But I walked trying to put back the shattered pieces of my dreams until Dave called me.

“I lost it,” he said, “I just blanked.”

I hurried to meet him and within seconds of looking at each other like we wanted to cry, we were laughing. We were two idiot kids with no business being at that audition. We weren’t prepared, we just wanted the safety of a place to hide in a bit longer before having to try and make it in the real world.

We immediately sought to find solace in pizza. I didn’t yet know the type of magical healing powers found in New York pizza, but let me say, it can cure many woes. And while we sat shoveling feelings and slices into our faces, I caught the eye of a man outside. He entered the restaurant and sat down at a table near to us. He kept staring at me, which I assumed was probably thanks to my smart outfit, but after a few minutes he approached us. I was prepared to hear him ask us for money but he did not. Instead, he showed me something he had been working on while sitting in the corner. It was a drawing of a crowd. All different types of people standing tall and gazing out from the page. That’s when I saw it. I was there. He pointed to the sketched version of me and said in broken English, “I wanted to draw you too.”

Dave and me acting in The Fox. While we did not get a single callback for any of the URTA schools, we did get an A on our senior project!

Suddenly, through some very kind and thoughtful strokes (homegirl looked way prettier than the snow soaked Ashley looked that day), was a new me standing beside other New Yorkers. That’s the moment I knew I was going to move to NYC after I graduated. Perhaps I needed someone else to see me there, who knows, but that’s exactly what I did. The man quietly walked away and we finished our pizza. Simple movements that forever changed my life.

Dave and I moved to NYC together a few months later and ate a whole lot more pizza. And both of us auditioned for a play together right away… we got in it… only to learn it was an anti abortion play… ah, but I’ll save that story for another time. The lesson here is that nightmare auditions are going to happen to even the best of us but there’s always something to take away from them, even if it’s just being able to laugh at yourself for being an idiot. Who else would be stupid enough to put themselves through so much rejection and heartbreak? We need each other to commiserate with, to celebrate with, and to keep encouraging each other to laugh. So in honor of that idea, here are some tales of audition horror from some of my fellow actors and friends!

Dave Collins (the guy from my story!):

So, I’m not sure if this is my worst audition story or my worst audition story from LA but either way it was pretty awful.

I was called in for this Danica Patrick commercial and thought I was just going to be one of three or four guys basically drooling over this beautiful race-car driver. This is what I came in prepared to do, not a very big stretch. This was not the case. I get into the room in front of the casting director and she proceeds to tell me that the joke of this commercial is that they want to show three dudes watching a clip of this beautiful woman showering and then pan to a dude’s naked chest… that these idiots somehow mistake for hers… Then, the camera would slowly go back up to the dude’s face. What?!! So the casting director asks me to take my shirt off and squeeze my very masculine, hairy, breasts together to try and put one over on these unsuspecting dbags. It was weird, humiliating, and I did it. And I didn’t get the part. I guess my male breasts weren’t feminine enough. Gross. I need to go shower now.

Shay Wisniewski:

I moved to New York about 3 months ago and was ready to hit the ground running with auditions. So I went to a call for Peer Gynt by Ibson, it’s one of his lesser known plays. I headed to Brooklyn for one of my first auditions. I show up and start filling out my audition form. Pretty standard. They even asked how we felt about nudity on stage. At this point in my life, I felt I could show off my breast if needed for a show. No big deal. Also, I told myself I wouldn’t turn anything down since I’m new to the city. So in I went.

In the room was an older man. White hair and a pony tail, along with his daughter who was handling the music in the show. They had me sing, improvise some dancing, do a monologue. Things were going great. I even get a callback which was even better than the audition. Full of viewpoints and group movement work, Meisner technique. Everything was right up my alley. He sits us down at the end of the callback and says, “so, I want to clarify the nudity aspect of the show. I love women, I love sex and I think both are very important things in a man’s life. Mothers, lovers, sister and so on. So at the end of the play, I want the main guy, to be breastfed by all the women on stage.”

…

Oh, I’m sorry. That’s not nudity, that’s porn.

And one of the guys in the audition group even went up to the director afterwards to let him know he was okay with the nudity in the show. Of course you are! You’d be getting a titty parade in your mouth! Sucking on multiple breasts is way better than having some strange adult man breast feed when you aren’t even dating.

I ended up getting cast. No, I didn’t take it. I couldn’t have something like that show up on YouTube one day when I’m famous. Whenever that is. Oh, and it paid zero dollars. So, no, you will not be seeing my breast feeding premiere this fall in New York.

Alex Harris:

You know what? When I saw your post on Facebook I immediately thought of a TERRIBLE one I had on Wednesday! Have you ever had an audition where, like, you read what they wanted, you knew what they wanted, and then when you go in there, you do absolutely everything you’re not supposed to? Well, that was me at this commercial audition, yikes bikes!! I walked in and the taping happens right in the audition waiting area so while you’re auditioning, you’re being watched by the other girls who are there (BIG HELP TO THE NERVES). And I just like had a lapse of where I was. I did exaggerated expressions like I was on stage or doing improv, instead of understated looks and reactions for simple commercial shots, oh it is awful Ashley. Awful.

Natalie Ashodian:

I once auditioned a woman for the very serious part of a Planned Parenthood nurse. A woman (in her 50’s or older, mind you!) showed up in a sexy nurse uniform. You know, Halloween costume 1940’s pin up style nurse. Needless to say, please don’t over-do character auditions. Unless the show is, you know, inherently campy.

Lea Gulino:

My last on-camera audition in LA – a 3rd callback for a Visa ad and the 3rd time I put everything I had into bleating like a goat…

Christi Chew:

He said, “Well now we know you can sing. Can you do it again, but crawl around like a cat?” It wasn’t CATS.

Do you have an audition horror story to share? Come join the party and leave it in the comments section!

Cowan Palace: Why Being a Theatre Person with a Day Job is the Best… and Worst

Ashley Cowan takes a moment to express some of her many feelings about being a “Theatre Person”.

Being a “Theatre Person” is both the best and worst thing about maintaining a professional career outside of the industry.

Like many others, when I’m not fortunate enough to be spending my time near a stage, I have to work a “real job”. And real jobs can be kind of the worst for folks like us, you know? At least they can sure seem that way. Maybe it’s because my Mercury is in retrograde or whatever but this year I seem to be struggling with that balance of doing what I love and doing what I need to do to do what I love.

I moved to San Francisco after landing a role in a show and managed to make ends meet by performing and working at some nonprofit Theatre companies in a variety of ways. And I was happy. I had a lot of responsibility and I wore a lot of hats (and you know I love hats). But I was also struggling and making my parents nervous with my lack of a long-term financial plan. So I got a job working at another nonprofit outside of the Theatre and made a little more money but gave up a little piece of my soul. When that didn’t pay off (literally), I took a more corporate track that offered some stability but demanded an even larger chunk of my soul in exchange for a position lacking challenge or creativity. Which are two of my favorite things! So I can’t help but feel a little stuck. And torn. So I endlessly analyze to no avail.

What I want to be able to tell my higher ups is that thanks to my background in Theatre – I can do anything. Okay, maybe that seems a bit ridiculous but follow me for a second. Thanks to my experience working on a variety of productions I can confidently say that I will do whatever it takes for the show to go on. And in a more corporate setting that may mean a variety of things.

In my current position, I feel a bit under utilized, and I blame the Theatre. It’s taught me to be resilient, passionate, quick thinking, flexible, good under pressure, a team player, all without breaking a sweat. I’ve watched my coworkers panic about small details and crumble with anxiety over minor moments. To them I want to say, “have you ever been through a tech week?” Or a dress rehearsal where the actors are barely off-book, the set and costumes are incomplete, and everything seems impossible? Because I have. And I continue to strive for that because I don’t know how not to. I’ve always believed that the Theatre is magic and blessed are those who make magic. Theatre people can do anything.

But I don’t really get the opportunity to tell my corporate higher-ups any of that. I’m a mere chorus girl in a cast of professional myriads; singing and dancing my heart out in the back hoping someday they might notice. And while I’m thankful to be making a decent enough living, it’s sadly not in my nature to silence my ingenuity and be satisfied.

Unfortunately though, I don’t have a solution. Do you? How do we similar minded people manage when we’re away from our true love? For me, spoiler alert, that love has always been the Theatre. Is it too much to ask to find some joy from the jobs that allow me to keep it a part of my life? I seek any and all council on this, my friends, as I seem to be at a crossroads and unsure which step to take next. In the meantime though, I’m incredibly grateful to be writing for an artistic community that I love dearly and who gets me through some of the darker day job frustrations. So I thank you all for that and will keep you in my thoughts until we meet again to discuss Theater Pub’s next project!