The following Career Dispatches essay was written by “Jagged Little Pill” star Kathryn Gallagher.
The advice I would like to give you, young Kathryn, has nothing to do with your career. You work very hard. You care deeply. You keep showing up. And I’m very proud of you. You hear “no” all the time. But you keep showing up. You practice guitar. You write hundreds of songs. You beg your friends and family to come see you in the same 100-person capacity rooms you’ve been playing since you were 15. Sometimes you play to 70 people and sometimes you play to seven. But you keep showing up and doing the very best you can. That’s all you can do. That part of the job won’t ever change.
You have no idea that soon you’ll get a call from a friend who wants to introduce you to his friend who is doing a production of “Spring Awakening” that will make you a better guitarist, will be your Broadway debut, and will introduce you to your very best friends. You have no idea that this job will lead to a year and a half of zero callbacks (let alone jobs), a brand new puppy, a few minor heartbreaks, and eventually a two-week stretch where you will book a TV show called “You” and a brand new musical called “Jagged Little Pill.”
Which brings me to right now, where I’m having an easy afternoon before a 7 PM performance of “Jagged Little Pill” on Broadway. I’m sitting on my red velvet couch in the corner of my Upper West Side apartment, where every surface is littered with candles, journals, guitars, sentimental coffee mugs, that tie-dye sweatshirt I’ve worn every day for the past week, letters from friends, and countless puzzle pieces strewn all across the floor. I’ve been looking for this one piece in particular for about 15 minutes and so to avoid extreme frustration, I decided to take a break and begin this essay.
The thing is, I’ve barely started the puzzle and there are so many other pieces I could be putting together—I could start filling out new areas! But no, my stubborn streak reigns supreme. In fact, I refuse to do anything other than look for this dark blue piece that has the “get” of “energetic” on it, a word to describe a Gemini. (This puzzle is an astrological constellation map comprised of dreamy blues, pinks, and purples, with tiny descriptive gold lettering. It is seemingly impossible yet has kept me entirely captivated for the past three days.)
Right now, young Kathryn, you’re looking for the “get” piece of your life and you’re growing frustrated. You’re looking for the acting gig that will prove you too can act, just like your dad; the record deal that will prove you’re a good songwriter unlike what those guys in college said; the partner who will finally convince you you are lovable; the diet that won’t leave you hungry and irritable. You’re convinced that finding any one of these things will make you happy, fulfilled, and successful. If only you could just find it.
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The problem is none of those things exist. There is no magic pill, no quick fix for your sadness, no trick to feeling desirable. Getting skinny, a job, a partner, or a record deal won’t make you feel any better.
So stop looking for them, because while you are doing so, you’re ignoring the magical puzzle possibilities all around you; your best friends from high school who make you laugh until there are tears streaming down your face, and that hug from your dad after your first real heartbreak that made you feel safe for the first time in months, the first time your little puppy didn’t pee in the house.
So, young Kathryn, stop looking for the “get” because there’s so many other pieces out there waiting to be put together and soon enough you’re going to fall in love with the pile of unorganized puzzle pieces on the floor. Uncertainty will, at its best, feel like opportunity and at its worst feel like a good reason to start a brand new jigsaw puzzle. It will get worse before it gets better, you’ll get sick of the mess of cardboard pieces on your floor, you’ll figure out a section and then your dog will step on it and you’ll have to start all over again but then you’ll find a piece you didn’t even know you were looking for and it feels good all over again. As far as I can tell, that’s just how puzzles—and life—work.
Turns out the “get” was under the couch the whole time.
What advice would you tell YOUR younger self? Get more Career Dispatches right here!