Working 9 to 5

Many philosophers have agreed 

That in order to be happy

People need to be gainfully employed

And now that I’ve been unemployed

For the past six months

I understand this more than ever

I’ve never had trouble getting work until now

Being a student

Living in London during a recession

Times are tough

It’s the best of times 

It’s the worst of times 

And is it a portal into my future?

Choosing a career where I am likely to be unemployed for long spells of time

Every actor goes through it

I remember reading Michael Caine’s autobiography

And his depression at watching his friends get jobs around him

His friends not get jobs around him

The despair

And the heartache

And coming to London and giving up everything I’ve ever known

To be living in the hope of the next job

And when I finally get even a tiny bit of work

The relief, the satisfaction

Spending an evening with lovely people

Well-heeled folk with a passion for supporting the arts

The student-actors gathered around the left-overs

Living the bohemian dream

The reality is so much tougher 

Much scarier when you’re not sure how you’ll meet the next rent

Pay for next week’s groceries or travel pass

Because you’re living on sheer determination and hope 

And praying praying praying that all this 

Despair and heartache will be totally completely worth it 

When one day you can say you’re earning your living as a performer

I am an actor

I am living the dream

And it’s even better than I could have imagined

The end. 

On the Steps of the Palace

Imagine one day you’re in London 

and you’re Living The Dream! 

You’ve wanted to be an actress your Whole Life

And suddenly here you are!

At one of the top drama schools in the world!

And every day you climb the steps to the school and 

Literally engraved into the rise of the steps

Are the names of people who’ve been here before.

People who have “Made It”

In the profession

This crazy business like no other.

Because what would it be like if your dreams actually came true?

What if you grew up and actually got to be who you wanted to be?

What if you were Mary Donaldson, an account manager from Tasmania? And what if one day you were in a pub in Sydney and this really attractive guy starts flirting with you and you think, “Gee, I like this one.” And you hang out for a few days, and the air is warm and the sky is blue, and it’s all rather festive because it’s the Olympics, and a few days later he turns to you and he says, “By the way, I’m the Crown Prince of Denmark. If you like me, like, like like me, you’re going to have to renounce your citizenship, learn Danish, and promise to bear my children. In exchange you get to a princess. Like, for real.” What do you do in that situation?

When people talk of Living The Dream, they don’t mention the self-doubt, or the worry, or the anxiety. 

Or that actually living the dream feels and looks different to what you expected. Or that it could even be better than what you've imagined your whole life, and that’s the overwhelming part?! 

Did Mary sit in her room one night and pour her heart out to her best friend and say, “Ohmygod. I don’t know. I mean he’s wonderful. And I really love him. But he’s a prince?! An actual prince?! Isn’t that ridiculous?!”

Because what if you are, 

What a prince would envision?

Although how can you know

Who you are till you know

What you want, which you don’t?

You know what you want. And you want to be an actress. And one day out of the blue, without any guide, a chance to audition fell into your lap, and you seized it, and it worked out well, and you moved to London. And after all this training, you want to write and dance and sing and act and tell stories and have someone with money pay you to do it. And you want to reach out to people to make this world a better place. And you want to talk about what’s going on around you in an interesting and theatrical way. Because nothing else excites you like that idea. Literally no other job in the world has as much appeal. 

You’re here. And you’re Living The Dream. And as Sondheim’s Cinderella says, yes, “Sometimes it’s scary... And you have to wary.” But you keep going. And trust, trust, trust that the universe knows what it’s doing with you. Because one day, you just might end up not just on the steps, but inside the palace, and it just may be wonderful.

The end.

Die Vampire, DIE!!

People have been asking "How London is going?" It’s wonderful. It’s exhilirating. It’s exhausting. It’s one of the toughest things I’ve ever done. The past few weeks have been a slog and I confess I’ve been rather down. Every day has been filled with self-doubt, worry that I’m not good enough, and much self-despising talk inside my head. What am I doing here in the middle of a recession training for a career where there are minimal job prospects and ridiculously tough competition? I’m here for love. Because nothing else makes me happier. And knowing that there is nothing else on earth I’d rather be doing, I meditated. I listened to musicals. I journalled. I read inspiring blogs. I watched inspiring videos. I obsessively followed Seth and Sharon. I talked with friends and loved ones. I channeled some [Title of Show] goodness and I told that little bitch of a voice inside my head “DIE VAMPIRE, DIE!!!!” Being a musical theatre actress may be scary to some people. At times it is even be scary to me. And facing my demons in possibly the scariest thing I will ever do. But facing them with spirit fingers, and shiny dances, and all-singing, all-technicolour glory is exactly how I want to do it. This Halloween, I'm dressing as the thing that frightens me the most. Myself. And I'm going to make like Buffy and kick some vampire-inner-demon butt. The end. 

You'll Never Walk Alone

http://www.sharonwheatley.com/

Sometimes you are down and out and feeling really crappy. And you feel like drama school is just code for "expensive creative therapy." And you've spent the day questioning yourself and doubting yourself and feeling super frustrated that your top notes aren't where you want them to be. And feeling like It Is All Really Hard. And then you come home and you make a massive batch of rice and lentils and carrot and leek and beans which you stuff into freshly baked capsicums and your flatmate has cleaned the bathroom and it doesn't feel so share-housey anymore and you have an amazing internet connection which gives you access to the world. And you have a really good cry. And then you stumble across blogs of Broadway actresses and you read them and remember that "the journey" is at times just "hard" but dear child, you never walk alone. And you can still smile. And you can still be inspired. And you can go to bed feeling like the sun will come out tomorrow. The end.

Idina and Marvin

Imagine you are ten and you dance around the living room with your arms up like this and suddenly you are a grown up living in the city where Mary Poppins comes from and you are sitting in Royal Albert Hall, which is very beautiful, and very big, even for a grown-up. And Marvin Hamlisch, who is the man who wrote A Chorus Line, the first musical you ever saw live, the first musical where you felt that little tingle in the bottom of your stomach telling you, “Oh! That’s what I want to be doing!”, walks out onto the stage which has a full symphony orchestra sitting on it, and he walks up to the podium and all the people in the audience cheer. And he raises his baton, and the people with the instruments know which notes to play and they are the notes to the opening of the song “One” from A Chorus Line. And you hear that familiar refrain and you suddenly feel a bit teary because there is Marvin Hamlisch conducting one of the pieces he wrote, which happens to be from your first proper musical, and here you are in London studying musical theatre and sitting in Royal Albert Hall! 

And a little while later Idina Menzel floats onto the stage in a beautiful white ball gown with a black sash. And she sings “I’m not that girl” from Wicked, and Cole Porter and Lady Gaga and she tells the story about being cast in a little off-Broadway show called RENT and how on the night of the dress-run the writer Jonathan Larson died unexpectedly of an aneurism and she sings a lovely version of No Day But Today and oh god it makes you cry. And your friend passes you a tissue. And then Idina sings For Good acapella and that is very good too. And outside the theatre you get to meet Sir Tim Rice. And he is a very friendly chap. And you can’t quite believe that the man responsible for many of the lyrics that you have sung, listened to, heard over and over since time began, is standing in front of you smiling and shaking your hand and introducing himself as “Tim”.

And then you go and share pizza with a new friend who you met in the audience, and she is lovely. And you float home on London’s wonderfully efficient public transport system and you think “oh my! What a week this has been!” Because the day before you saw a concert at the Barbican where the BBC Symphony Orchestra played a new score as live accompaniment to an old silent film from the 1920s. And it was utterly magical to be transported by an old film made over seventy years ago and even more magical to watch a full symphony orchestra play a delicious score. 

And earlier in the week you were in NYC. And last week you saw two brand new musicals. And you were a guest presenter on your favourite podcast. And in the midst of it all you get to go to school every day to learn more about musicals and be with lovely people who share your joy and your passion and your fun. And you feel very blessed to be surrounded by all this culture, this music, these wonderful people. And you walk home and the moon is shining and the stars are bright and the air is chilly and fresh, and you say, thank you thank you thank you to the powers that be for allowing me to live this life enchanted.  And you crawl into bed at 1.40am and fall asleep smiling. The end.