Hey all.

Anyone close to me knows that NYC was pretty hard on me. I booked stuff, I survived, but it was not an overall enjoyable experience.

At some point, I may back-date some blogs and fill in the blanks of my 3.5 months in Astoria. I needed time and distance – a lot of time – to recover from all that. I’ve been back south for almost exactly six months.

What many folks don’t tell you is…well…the truth. Some people gloss over how tough it is, and until you’ve actually lived there in an apartment – not on a vacation – and tried to set up some semblance of a life, it’s really hard to explain. I thought I knew and I thought I was prepared. Nope. You cannot know until you’re alone in your little closet-sized room in a monster of a city with no family, no friends, and no security.

To begin with, I was rather misled (and blindly believed, with all the knowledge I had available to me) about how easy it would be to get my Equity card. I knew from past experience that Non-Equity actors often don’t get seen, so getting my card would be paramount. I didn’t really expect to accomplish much without it. But all I had to do was submit to this one company that was always looking for actors – I’d totally get in no problem, I was told – and work for a bit. It was a hidden loophole that only a lucky knowledgeable few could use. The way the company was set up, I’d get my card in a couple of weeks. Sounded good to me! (Yes, I realize this sounds like a scam. It’s not.)

So I did some research: the company was legit, my friend was trustworthy and knew folks who worked there before, actual employed actors whose names I recognized got their cards that way…It seemed like an excellent possibility.

Several friends and recruiters said that work in the city was way more flexible than in Georgia. I hadn’t had any luck finding a quality copyediting job with flexible hours while in Atlanta, but things would be different in New York. Once I had my address and explained my situation, businesses would love to have me aboard!

I could make this work! I’d have a good-paying editing gig that was fairly flexible and I could go to auditions and work gigs when they came up. I’d finally be able to audition for Broadway shows and work my way up with booking some smaller stuff. I could do shows with better production values and fellow actors who really loved to perform and were devoted to their craft – I’d be home, with my people. Finally!

Except it didn’t happen that way.

I moved in with folks I didn’t know – which was to be expected. But things didn’t gel at all and I felt out of place – I don’t think my roommates liked me. There were mice, trash was everywhere. Appliances were broken. I’d never been so cold at night in my life. I was miserable and wanted nothing more than to be with people who loved me. My copyediting job – the one just waiting out there in the universe for me – was not appearing, no company was flexible, and everyone wanted editors on site 40 hours a week during normal business hours. Georgia recruiters had my phone ringing off the hook, but no one was ok with me working remotely from Queens.

I submitted to auditions on Actors Access and Backstage all the time. It was rare to even get an audition slot. I was told that no one takes you seriously unless you’ve lived in the city a year or two. (Wait, what? No one in Georgia mentioned that!) That magical theatre company where you can get your card? I submitted as often as I could but never even saw so much as an audition invitation. Apparently, that secret is out.

Eventually I found a nicer (read: more expensive) apartment and a happier environment. It wasn’t super comfortable, but it was clean and certainly not bad by New York standards. I foolishly believed it was soundproof as advertised, so that justified the price. I could sing in there! (As I learned, the door was kinda soundproof…the plaster walls weren’t.) But as it turned out, that didn’t matter much anyway. I didn’t feel like singing. Ever. I was incredibly lonely and had no desire to do what I moved there to do.

Not that I really got a chance to sing anyway – it turns out big Broadway casting directors don’t care to see Non-Equity newbies. I can’t say I blame them – there’s always a fresh batch of starry-eyed undergrads crashing auditions after lining up at 4am to get seen. But it doesn’t help your spirits any. When there are 800 people in line by the time the call is open – worse than last year, people said, it’s worse every year – can you gamble your days away hoping to croak out 8 bars? I crashed the Matilda EPA (nope, nothing, sent home at 3), went to the Ogunquit open call (nope, left at noon when additional slots were filled), and tried for some other call too. You only get seen with a scheduled slot, and that happens only if you’re Equity or you got up at 3am to be in line by 4am (and just think how clear your voice is after 3 hours of sleep).

Dance classes were so difficult there was really no joy in them. Dance is my weakness and I knew it’d be hard, but my NYC dance class nightmare came true on the third day I was there. I was so traumatized that it took me weeks to get back to class. It was still stressful after, even in classes that were closer to my level. I knew I could really improve if I kept going, but it was so nerve-wracking that I didn’t often muster up the courage to go to class. Some folks looked so pleased to be in class…I wondered what that would be like. On the other hand, from what I could see, many of us were not as thrilled.

On a happy note: The yoga in Astoria was great! I miss that. Pay-what-you-can for 60 minutes of class, or $8 for 90 minutes of quality instruction at Yoga Agora.

Eventually I got a few more auditions and booked a couple of small shows. Both were Off-Off-Broadway in teeny-tiny theatres – but they were just off Times Square. I walked past all the marquees to rehearsals – that was maybe the coolest part of living there. I was doing theatre in NYC and trekking through the sea of people who were there to see theatre (just not me, obviously).

The thing was – despite any outward appearance of “success” – I was still terribly unhappy. “But you’re getting cast!” my friends wrote. “Why wouldn’t you stay?!” Or the more jarring “This is what you wanted. You should suck it up and deal with it because you wanted this.”

This?! You mean feeling like I was doing time? Or that I was on a business trip and supposed to be having fun, but there wasn’t any time or money or opportunity to do so? Or that I never really was going to feel settled and normal? Or watching the slow drain on my bank account because my temp job just covered rent and minimal expenses and could not sustain a stay of two years at the current rate?  Or wishing I’d not sold my car so I could drive to all these gigs on Long Island or out in Jersey – opportunities that weren’t available without a car. (Literally. The calls said that: Must have a car.) Or just waking up alone, feeling physically ill, missing the people I loved?

Have I made my point?

I’m an extremely introverted person, so I’m used to sitting in my own company, but this was different. I was soul-crushingly lonely. It may sound like I’m exaggerating, but I’m not. Here I was, mere miles away from where I’d wanted to be, but no closer to doing professional theatre than when I was living in Atlanta. Or Charleston. Or in my tiny Midwestern hometown, for that matter. In fact, I got further in Phantom of the Opera auditions in Atlanta – I got to audition via video submission for the Broadway and National tour productions and sing from the show. That’s several rounds of auditions in – like maybe Round 3 or 4. In New York, casting wouldn’t even bother with Non-Eq; I couldn’t even get seen for Round 1.

I’m also very logical. (Yes, a person can be both creative and logical.) But because I’m logical, it did not make sense to me to stay for a year or two in a place where I was miserable and lonely. I was literally sick every day for the first month and a half. It was stress. It was tearing me apart from the inside out. Eventually I realized that living in NYC was not worth my health. It took me years to heal from a back injury and get my allergies and whatnot under control, and I didn’t want to throw away all of that. I worked so hard to be well!

In the end, I left with 2 theatre credits and a film credit under my belt. I didn’t want to leave with nothing to show for my suffering, and thankfully a few projects came through. I wanted proof on my resume, and I got it.

Theatre still isn’t prevalent in Atlanta. I knew that when I left – I’d gone as far as I could – but as I missed 2016 season auditions, there’s not much here at the moment, either. Things are picking up: I’ve got a good week of auditions ahead and I’ve had a stretch of a few good weeks of work and possibilities.

But I don’t regret moving back. Although opportunities are slow and sparse here right now, I’m healthy again. I’m freelancing. I’ve got some work here and there. Occasionally a gig will pay. I have people who love me here, so I’m not alone anymore. I cook and bake more now than I have in my entire life – it’s my creative outlet. And I explain my experience in the city to folks pondering The Big Move. I want them to understand how hard it is and to tell them to bring friends and a car. (For real.)

If I ever go back, it will be with an Equity card and someone I love. I will not go it alone again. Life is too short to be that miserable.

Tl;dr – NYC was lonely and sad so I left.

It’s taken me six months to recover as an artist and a person, and to get all this out on paper (figuratively). I guess it’s a sign of moving on…and being focused enough to write another blog.

Onward and upward!