BWW Blog: Acting - A Leap of Faith

For the next month or so, I'll be memorizing lines and living from rehearsal to rehearsal. I'll be collaborating with actors older than me, actors with countless years of experience under their belt. I'll be digging deep into three original one-acts and studying videos of goth girls, Sheldon Cooper, and Zooey Deschanel to help me step into the shoes of my respective characters.

And if I'm honest, I'm a little nervous. Okay, maybe a little more than that--I'm terrified.

After all, the last time I acted on stage was when I played Mary Magdalene in a Sunday School play. Or maybe it was when I was part of an ensemble for a Glee-esque musical. Or perhaps it was when I had maybe two lines as one of Mulan's ancestors in a middle school production of Disney's Mulan Jr. Regardless, the last time I "acted" was a very long time ago. Though I call myself a storyteller, I am deeply aware that I haven't had the chance to engage in the most visceral, immediate role of a storyteller of all: as an actor.

In every form of art I believe that there is some form of a so-called leap of faith. In writing, it is to write, and keep writing, believing that someday, somewhere, someone might feel a little less alone because of your words. In visual arts, it is to paint with conviction in funneling imagination into the world. And in acting, it is the act of embodying someone not you in front of an audience. To do this, we must learn to see the world from characters' perspectives. Luckily, we are already well-equipped to do that: as Meryl Streep once said, "The great gift of human beings is that we have the power of empathy."

This is my leap of faith: to look within, find things that my characters and I have in common, and present that to the world. As someone who is accustomed to creating rather than personifying characters, this leap is scary. But it also thrills and excites me. I've entered into a world of play, where there is no right and wrong, where much of what I do should stem from instinct. It is like 5-year-old Cassandra playing with Lego figures all over again, except this time, I am the Lego person breathing, moving, and living in an alternate universe.

My biggest obstacle, I suspect, won't be in engaging in the imagination--I do that every day as a writer. Rather, my biggest obstacle is myself. Self-doubt is crippling, and I need to be fully uninhibited in rehearsals and on stage. I need to believe, with child-like faith and confidence, that I can truly do it. Perhaps only then will I learn the meaning of "fake it till you make it."

So, over the next month, I'll be reexamining what it means to be human. I'll be learning from actors more experienced than me. I'll be helping a team of people create a world true to the playwright's vision. And perhaps, in that sense, my leap of faith isn't a leap at all. Instead, I must learn to take this trust fall--trusting my cast and crew to catch me, trusting the process, and ultimately, trusting myself.

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