If you don’t believe words leave a mark, more than likely you’ve never experienced a leech of a word.
Thankfully, here in Part 3, the leech begins to loosen it’s grip.
Where did I put that . . .
You know that feeling when you think you’ve forgotten something and you can’t recall what it is?
You’ve misplaced something. Or missed an appointment. There’s a terrible gnawing feeling in the pit of the stomach. No matter how much you search your memory, the inability to pinpoint the problem hovers. It’s not a doom and gloom or feeling of disaster. It’s just there. It’s annoying.
And won’t go away.
That’s how I felt throughout college.
I decided to pursue a degree in video production after having had some success with a project I created in high school that won an award. And while I did a fine job in college, I never completely immersed myself in preparing for a post-college position in the field. No internship. No summer jobs at a studio, agency or news organization. I simply didn’t go above and beyond.
For two reasons:
- I questioned my ability in the department. (See the theme?)
- I missed out on what I really enjoyed. Acting. (Remember the acting thing?)
So when a few us in the TCOM school decided to put together a small cable comedy show called “Comedy Grab Bag”, guess which role I took?
An acting one. We all produced the show together. But I never felt more engaged in the process than when I was on camera.
Following college, I took very few interviews for video production jobs, never truly investing myself in securing one. I ended up working at a jewelry store, followed by a stint managing a Nutri-system weight loss center oddly enough.
What the hell was I doing?
Moving to Chicago saved me.
Those early years in Chicago were a dream. As my husband studied Greek and Hebrew during his first year at seminary, I went in search of a community theater adventure. Perhaps I could jump back on stage while he was shut away in his closet of an office. After all, while I may not have thought myself to be talented enough to pursue a theater degree or professional gigs, certainly they could find something for me to do in a community theater production. My husband didn’t even know this “acting” side of Joline. He was both surprised and supportive.
I had no idea I was about to enter the amazingly talented world of Chicago community theater.
I credit those people (directors, choreographers, producers and fellow actors) for helping me get my groove back.
Thus began my community theater years.
Followed by the agent/auditions/commercial years.
It was a blast . . . even if I still felt like the JV team of performers in Chicago. I never quite made it in the big leagues of Chicago theater, (doing one Equity show where my leading man went on to perform in the original Broadway cast of “Jersey Boys”) but was fortunate to get commercial gigs – one being a national spot for Coldwell Banker and fantastic print work.
I learned that I was indeed good. Maybe not the “good” one needed to break into the larger Equity theaters, but I was finding success – and, more importantly, I was having fun doing it.
I was having fun. Something that hadn’t happened in years.
Those who can’t, teach? (What a lousy outlook!)
It was following an audition for the now defunct Apple Tree Theater, where the artistic director approached me to ask whether I might be interested in teaching for their children’s performing arts workshop. What I wanted was a role in her show! What I got was the beginning of a 10-year teaching tenure that involved classes, of which mine repeatedly had a waiting list for enrollment due to popularity, directing/choreographing shows for schools, privately coaching some of the most talented kids on the north shore, and overseeing a traveling troupe of youngsters – many of whom are working professionally today.
Where I lacked, or thought I lacked ON stage, I totally made up for OFF stage.
I was a coach.
And a damn good one.
Why? I had been a child actor. I had an organic instinct as to what children needed to clinch a role. And they did. Over and over. If I had been assigned a batting average number for audition prep to casting, my number would have been super high.
Soon, I was sought after on the north shore for private coaching.
My years in Chicago were rich. A treasure. Eye-opening.
I was finally growing into ME.
to be continued . . .
