If there were a button to bring me a stream of meaty roles—all in brilliant projects, each with visionary collaborators—while "just being an actor," just showing up to act in these miracles, I would push that button now.
Here's the thing: That button doesn't exist for anyone. It doesn't exist for me. It doesn't exist for George Clooney or Julia Roberts. And it doesn't exist for you. It took me a decade to accept this. I used to be one of those—like many of you—for whom the word "actor" was tied to my very identity. I fell in love with the craft when I was 9, and something in me has been pushed, drawn, and forced to tell stories ever since.
Before, I thought of myself as an actor willing to do the dirty work necessary to give myself a role. I soon realized this dirty work was called "producing." But I still thought being an actor was to be an interpretive artist only—to play the stories generated by others—and I resented anyone wanting me to produce.
To make a long tale quick: I finally embraced the power of being a generative artist, including as an actor. The journey between those states, from interpretive to generative, taught me many lessons, and I have distilled these few:
-Start making. Put up plays. Shoot shorts. Don't emphasize people knowing you're doing them; do them quietly; let them suck. Give yourself time to learn how to take the reins as a generative actor in the professional world.
-Bet on people, not projects. When choosing what to make, don't think, "I want to play X role"; think, "I want to work with X person"—some director whose tiny play you saw, an emerging writer you heard at an open mike. It's these relationships, not the projects they generate, that will serve you. And pick people whose work you admire, not those you think will go far. Only if you truly share tastes will these collaborations be satisfying, and only then will they build sustaining allegiances.
-Redefine "business." Artists teach each other that "business" is a dirty word, synonymous with "selling out." When you buy that, the only thing you get is more marketplace power for nonartists. Simultaneous with all your creative striving, take a straight-up business class, read business books. Being a generative artist is being an entrepreneur, so equip yourself for that road.
-Get over yourself. As an actor, you don't serve other people's dreams unless you're valuable in the market, yet you expect other people to care about giving you "a break." But if you learn to generate—as a writer, director, producer—you are of value to others; you can help their dreams. Then, leverage that into having them help yours. A less gain-oriented phrasing: Stop worrying about "what" you are. Find great yarns to spin, and let go of your ego about acting in them. Your true job as an artist is to serve the story, not yourself.
-Realize that all of the above is acting. Wanting to "just" act is like thinking that "being a lawyer" means "making great speeches in courtrooms," ignoring that every minute of a trial rests on dozens of hours of painstaking work. If you don't find entrepreneurial hustle just as invigorating as acting, then I've a news flash: You don't like being an actor. If, however, entrepreneurialism invigorates you—even to prove how wrong I am—then you are good to go. So, go.
Break a leg.
Actor-producer Steven Klein runs Firefly: Theater & Films. Most recently he played a Russian operative on "Burn Notice," and he produced "Make Believe," which won in the feature documentary category at the 2010 Los Angeles Film Festival. www.fireflyinc.com. www.steven-klein.com.