pile of rejections, but I didn't think much of it, at least consciously, because I didn't care about acting back then.
Sports, on the other hand, felt like my life when I was growing up. Unfortunately, my desire to be good at them was not matched by my talent. I'd work my butt off obsessively only to remain skinny, weak, and slow. The fact that I made it as far as I did in athletics is a sheer reflection of a burning desire in me to be accepted and valued. On my own, despite the many things I had going for me and the many great friends and family members who surrounded me, I largely felt like I was not enough.
No matter which “no” I credit as the origin of my career, it was somehow forged in the pain of rejection and the desire to overcome it.
Obviously, all of those childhood “no”s didn't kill me and neither did the “no” of my emotionally harrowing experience in Italy over the summer of 1992. Perhaps the expression “That which does not kill you will make you stronger” is popular because it reflects a truth. The breakup in Italy is what forced me to dig deeper and find something more fully satisfying than being a member of my college lacrosse team. Confusing feelings had been percolating inside me prior to my trip to Italy, inducing a full-blown panic attack long before I had ever heard that term. But, like many people, rather than examine the origins of my unrest, I chose to ignore my anxiety because I was too scared to take the first step.
On the surface, things were looking good for me by the spring of my sophomore year in Chestnut Hill. I had a beautiful girlfriend, a spot on the varsity team, grades that kept me on the Dean's List, and a lot of friends. But beneath the surface lurked a different story. Despite the fact that I thought I was in love for the first time, the panic attacks were brought on by the fact that I had been questioning the relationship subconsciously. I was just too scared to do anything to jeopardize it because I thought it was everything I wanted. There was a chasm deep within me that I had been avoiding and it created a gap between my inner self and the facade I presented to the world. That facade began to crumble in Italy when my girlfriend had the courage to do what I had feared by breaking off our relationship.
The truth inside me rose up, grabbed me by the throat, and got my attention. Uncharacteristically, I skipped out of all the classes I was supposed to be taking and, instead, found a patch of grass in front of a small church in Perugia where I dumped all of my jagged thoughts into the journal my sister had given to me prior to my trip. It was as though there was an angry artist inside of me, no longer allowing me to put a muzzle on him, writing it. He told me that I couldn't continue to go down the path upon which I was traveling. It was an exhilarating yet frightening experience. That journal contains the first traces of my desire to act and write. I look back on this period as fortunate now, but it is no exaggeration to say that, at the time, I feared I was going to die in Italy with no friends or family around to witness it.
“I went back to my room, pulled my pistol out and put it in my mouth and was getting ready to blow my head off. Thankfully, I had a picture of my wife and kids on the desk across from me. I saw that as I was sitting there with a gun in my mouth and thought, ‘What're you doing?’ So I put my gun away and I went and sought help for the first time. And I'd love to say that I woke up. I didn't. I stayed on the X for a while. I still played the victim. I tried to convince myself, ‘You're being thrown under the bus. You're doing the right thing.’ But it literally took me about five months. I hadn't hit rock bottom yet.”
Jason Redman, Retired Navy SEAL, New York Times Best-Selling Author
The result of this breakdown/breakthrough was that the following spring at Boston College, after a brief period of going back to lacrosse and the beaten path I had traveled for so long, I quit the team, stepped out of my comfort zone, and auditioned for a play. After losing out to my roommate, who was also auditioning for the first time, I gave it another shot and scored the lead in a one-act play. It was performed in a lecture hall, rather than an actual theater. But despite the humble venue, I enjoyed the experience so much that I told anyone who would listen that I was going to be an actor. While this may sound dramatic and grand, over a year later, after that one-act play, I had not done any more plays.
Upon graduating, I moved back home with the plan to save enough money to move to New York City and pursue a career in acting. I had taken an acting class my senior year and added a Film Studies minor to my English Literature major, but I had not acted aside from that lecture-hall production. On top of this, after 27 years of marriage, my parents decided to split that summer, so moving back into the house where I grew up without my Dad living there was an adjustment. There were many thoughts swimming through my head, but the primary one was how I could turn my new dream into a reality.
There is no standard how-to manual containing a list of the first steps in becoming an actor, because the how is unique for each individual. Classes can be attended, mentors can be sought out, and the skills required to excel can be attained through training. But the why is the fuel that will propel you. A strong why will obliterate all of the inevitable blockades and barriers you will undoubtedly face no matter what field you choose. If your why is not aligned with your innermost joy and your biggest dreams, you may find success, but eventually you will experience some version of the breakdown I had in Italy. It may not crumble your life or turn you 180 degrees the way it did me. It may not cause you panic attacks. But there will be cracks in your facade. Eventually, if you're not careful, you'll look back wondering whose life you lived.
“I drove a cab for years, I proofread in law firms, I worked in a factory when I kind of dropped it all out and went out to Colorado. I cleaned Greyhound buses on Eleventh Avenue from eleven at night ‘til seven in the morning in summers while I went to school. No, I didn't start making a living for real until my son was born.”
—Richard Schiff, Actor, Emmy Award Winner, The West Wing
That experience in Italy, when everything bubbled out of me, made me certain that I wanted to pursue something that required all of my faculties. I wanted to somehow relieve the knot of emotions and unfulfilled desires tangled in my gut. Thus, my why was a desire to express myself psychologically, spiritually, physically, and mentally and the way I guessed I could do that was through acting. But just because I'd found my why, did not mean I knew exactly how to start.
Everybody Needs Some Billy Sometimes
The challenge for me to begin my pursuit as an actor was that I had almost no experience. Everyone needs to start somewhere and I was no different. The pain of not acting, for me, outweighed the fear of falling on my face in front of others. I wanted to start as soon as possible, so I scanned a local paper and found a casting notice. A community theater a few towns over from where I grew up was doing the musical The Mystery of Edwin Drood. The audition required each hopeful actor to sing 16 bars of music, accompanied by a pianist. I called the phone number and admitted that I didn't have 16 bars of music to sing. I explained that I could play a little piano, even less guitar, and I could carry a tune. When I asked if it would it be okay if I just “sang some Billy Joel” there was a long pause. After what felt like an eternity, I heard, “Sure. Just bring the sheet music.”
The following week I drove over to the theater after a full day of my summer job laying patios with a mason. I'd had time to shower and change, but my choice of wardrobe was hardly appropriate for a musical set in the 1860s. I entered the theater in jeans, a white t-shirt, and a pair of beaten up, low-cut Converse Chuck Taylors. To say I stuck out like a sore thumb would be an understatement. I looked like I was headed to a frat party while the rest of the hopeful actors wore some semblance of period garb similar to the setting of the musical. The way the audition was set up—which I have never experienced since—was that every person who went up on stage to sing did so in front of everyone else waiting to go. Once you were done, you were free to leave. Suddenly, I wished that I had showed up late so there would be no one else to watch this potential debacle, but I hid my insecurity
