Beth Grant, Los Angeles

As you all know, my friend, classmate, and colleague, Patrick (Buddy) Swayze passed away recently. He was a good man and an artist. I first heard about him in 1983 when I was a student in the Tuesday/Thursday class at the Beverly Hills Playhouse. We did a scene from "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?"

Buddy had already starred in "The Outsiders" and drove a silver DeLorean. Man, he was hot stuff! I was thrilled to be working with him. At the same time, I was surrendering to a very difficult acting lesson from our teacher, Milton Katselas, who had strongly and loudly suggested that I needed to give up my fancy ideas of doing "glamorous" roles and get down to the work of great character roles. Hence Martha. As we rehearsed, it seemed to me that Buddy and Cal Bartlett, who was playing George, both paid a lot more attention to beautiful, slim, model-turned-actor Darlanne Fluegel, who was playing Honey. At one rehearsal, as I hurled Martha's drunken lines at one of them and then the other, I started to cry. I felt rough and ugly; Darlanne was soft and lovely. Buddy took me aside and said, "Don't you know that Uta Hagen and Colleen Dewhurst and all those strong ladies are beautiful? You are beautiful." When we did the scene in class, we tore it up. Buddy was like a wild stallion on the stage, hot and explosive. All of us followed his lead. It remains one of my favorite pieces of work ever.

I would also work with his elegant, fiery, and brilliant wife, Lisa, on a scene from "East of Eden." Donnie, his devoted and very talented brother, played my son in a scene from an Appalachian piece and rocked the world with just one word, when he yelled, "Maaaaaaa!" I love them all.

In "To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything, Julie Newmar," Buddy played Vida, the drag queen with style and heart who supervised a makeover on my character, Loretta, the town drunk, nicknamed Baby Ugly. He came over and whispered to me, "Maybe it's a little like you felt that day at rehearsal." My eyes filled with tears, and the scene became much more real and touching. Then there was "Donnie Darko." I read for Kitty Farmer because the script was sheer genius. Donnie was to be played by sweet Jake Gyllenhaal, whom I had known and loved since he was a little boy. And then they said that Buddy would be playing the motivational speaker who is my hero in the movie. I got so excited in the audition, I messed up what is now my most iconic line and said, "Sometimes I doubt your commitment to 'Miracles in Motion.' " Richard Kelly and Sean McKittrick howled with laughter, and I said, "You have to give me this part!" Fortunately, they did. And so I got to do onscreen what I had done for years in life: love and adore my hero, sweet, sensitive Patrick Swayze.


Meagan Flynn, Kansas City, Mo.

October! Fall is officially here. I'm a huge fan of October, as Halloween is one of my favorite holidays. An actor who likes a holiday where we get to dress up and pretend to be other people? Go figure. I need a great costume idea this year, so hit me up if you have a good one. I was Juno last year, so I need something fun again.

It's been a busy personal month with some travel to Colorado and the purchase of a new house, which is taking up a lot of time what with moving and then trying to sell the old one. If anyone wants a home in Kansas City, give me a call; have I got a deal for you!

There's also a lot going on careerwise in October, but I'm sad to report that it's mostly continuations of things that were already in motion. The short I'm producing films the second week of October, and the regional Emmys are Oct. 3, where we will find out if "Unreal Housewives" will go from the Emmy-nominated Web series to the Emmy Award–winning Web series. Major Major Hollywood Motion Picture from last spring is continuing to screen at top film festivals and receiving rave reviews. I haven't seen it yet, though; and want to wait to comment more on my experiences working on the film until after I've seen the final product.

As it is fall, I've also begun teaching my kids' acting class again on Monday nights. Seriously, I learn so much from these kids just through their questions and dedication to their performances. I really love watching and coaching them. I also worked on a few commercial jobs, including a hand-modeling job for UMB Bank. That's right, look out Midwest, you are about to see my hands, holding credit cards, in gigantic blow-up format on billboards. It's always nice to book things that help pay the bills even if they aren't the most creatively challenging things.

One thing I was thinking on and working toward last month was trying to conduct myself as professionally as possible at all times. I'm learning that, especially in smaller markets, your reputation is invaluable. I'm certainly not perfect, but I am trying to make a stronger effort to remember that every comment you say, email you send, and phone call you make may be remembered and/or repeated. Especially as I branch out into producing, I am trying to be cognizant of my reputation at all times. I want to be the type of producer people want to work with time and again. I am challenging myself to find the strong businesswomen inside the passionate and emotional actor and to make decisions from a sound business place and not just from a reactive impulsive place. Hopefully, I can find the balance between the two.


Leon Acord, Los Angeles

There are lots of books on accomplishing one's goals. But none address what to do afterward. After 18 months of being singularly focused on producing and acting in "Carved in Stone," the play has finally closed, and I find myself asking, "What now?" Following a year and a half of ignoring the industry—which was already on shaky ground—I've awakened to find it devolving into something where I'm not sure I belong. Many things about big-time show business that attracted me as a kid no longer exist.

Granted, life as an actor is always a crapshoot. I never wanted "stardom," but lately it seems merely being a journeyman actor is just as impossible a dream. I find myself wondering, Is the hope of making a career in Los Angeles a fantasy? Consider Stephen King's recent Entertainment Weekly column bemoaning the death of quality entertainment. Back Stage recently devoted several pages to "The Decline of the Middle-Class Actor." Soaps and sitcoms are dead or dying, reality has taken over television, and studio films get dumber each season. SAG is imploding in slow motion, while stars of the 1970s and '80s play the small parts for scale. The economy has made self-sustaining theater a near impossibility (trust me, I know!). And the Internet has thrown the entire industry into a tailspin.

Meanwhile I'm looking for a new agent and easing back into the business after months off. Maybe it's the pessimistic news or because I'm not a schmoozer, but I'm done playing the Hollywood game. The return doesn't justify the investment. The odds are too long. It's about almost everything except art. And I network by meeting folks on the job, not by going to parties.

Now, I'm not quitting acting. I couldn't if I tried. I'll still submit, audition, and work in others' productions when asked, but I'm taking the power out of the hands of others. I'm making serious adjustments to my ideas of "success in Hollywood," what I want to accomplish, and how. Screw the agents and bigwigs, the networks and the big studios, and the corporate owners who base decisions on the bottom line and the interests of teenage boys. If I want interesting roles in work that speaks to me, I'll create it myself—like when I was starting out in San Francisco in the late '80s and as I just did with "Carved in Stone." With today's technology, it's certainly much easier to produce projects and get them seen. I'm developing a few prospective Internet projects I've been sitting on. I'm writing a feature script, based on a classic short horror story, with a wonderful supporting role for me. I'll produce and maybe even direct it, with my equally fed-up talented actor friends making up the cast.

I might not get rich, but I'll stay working and engaged in creation—which I've always prized more highly than making money. The challenge is keeping the "eyes on the prize" in a town obsessed with financial success and celebrity. Hollywood is dead; long live Hollywood!


Victor Joel Ortiz, New York

Last month's adventures began when I stumbled upon an audition notice in Back Stage for the Flea Theater's nonunion resident acting company the Bats. Their reputation as one of the elite theater companies in the city is well-documented. I eagerly went to the open call with my classical and contemporary monologue sharpened. As luck would have it, the marketing manager Sherri Kronfeld, who auditioned me along with Jim Simpson, had read my articles. I left feeling confident because I knew I prepared for the audition, but I've learned that this business is anything but predictable, so I didn't want to get my hopes up. As it turned out, I received an email about a week later inviting me to join.

The first Bat production for the fall is titled "The Great Recession," and it is composed of six one-act plays. The playwrights are well-respected and highly talented. One is a Pulitzer Prize finalist and a Guggenheim fellow; another is a Princess Grace Award recipient. I am obviously thrilled to begin my time as a Bat and anticipate a great year to come.

Also this month I began taking classes at the Linklater Center for Voice and Speech. I have always felt that the only instruments we have as actors are our bodies and voices. James Earl Jones and Daniel Day-Lewis have such authority and control of their voices, and I marvel at the way they use them to convey emotion. I would like to have that same control. Also this month I was invited to attend a CBS diversity workshop that AFTRA hosted. It was very educational: Katharina Eggmann and Fern Orenstein conveyed the casting director's point of view and stressed how important it is to know your type. They also spoke of making sure your headshots express the story of the type you are trying to portray because they have hundreds of thumbnail images on their desktop, so yours is the one that needs to tell a story and stand out.

I also filmed on "All My Children" for the fourth time—the episode airs Oct. 19, so I seem to be getting consistent work from them, which I am grateful for. I got an email from Emmy Award–winning director John Erman, whom I worked with last fall on Broadway, asking me to help him with an exercise in a class at Columbia University. He was showing students how to conduct a first rehearsal, and we worked on a scene from "A Streetcar Named Desire." Finally, my persistence the past year paid off, and I found myself representation—with two offers coming my way. Dan Wright asked me for pictures and résumés to send me out freelance, and I have a meeting scheduled with Jesse Grossman from Emerge Talent. Not a bad month, huh? VictorJoelOrtiz.com


Julian Miller, Chicago

Thanks to those of you who got in touch with me and helped me transition to this city. I can truly see why everyone had such great things to say about it. The biggest gift I've had while being here has been time to breathe and assess my career.

When I started out as an actor, I was young and wanted a Hollywood career. I wanted to make movies, originate plays, and sing and dance and have the whole world watch. I have to laugh aloud to myself as I reflect because I spent enough time in that world to know it wasn't for me. As I've gotten older I've become a much more private person, and my focus has shifted from outside to in. What was once a quest for fame has become a quiet respect for the art form, and I wouldn't have it any other way. I enjoy being on stage or in front of the camera, but I've come to know what I love—and that's conversation with great actors where I get to learn about their lives and how they do what they do.

I got a bunch of people responding to my question about places to train in Chicago. I checked out many and decided that I needed a better way to work for auditions and in general. I realized that most of the training I've had has really reinforced in me a habit of listening externally to find approval in a teacher rather than trusting my instincts and submitting to the realness of "the moment." I went to a class at Acting Studio Chicago taught by Kurt Naebig and really got a sense that this was an actor who could really make a difference in how I viewed the world and my job as an actor. I enrolled in his advanced class and from moment one was called out on my bad habits and pushed to explore what it means to be totally open to possibility. I could tell from the caliber of students in the class and my experience that this place and this time are the beginning of something great.

I've also settled in to a nice quiet career that keeps me sharp and challenges me in other ways, so for the first time in a long time I'm feeling really satisfied. And I've got a great scene partner, which doesn't hurt.

One thing I never realized was how easy it is to buy into your own "thing." I've always been the "voice," and everyone has their own idea of who I am and what I can do. Believe me when I say that there is beauty in letting go of who you are "supposed to be" in order to just be who you are.