Hi Reader,

Years ago I had two clips I was proud of.

One was a Hal Hartley film in which I played a twelve-year-old boy (I was 22 and very much a woman). The other was The First Wives Club, in which I played a younger Diane Keaton.

Both good work. Both real credits. The Hal Hartley film premiered at Cannes and The First Wives Club grossed almost $200M worldwide. I carried them around town like they were a business card.

And people kept looking at me, then looking at the tape, then looking back at me — and asking, with genuine confusion, if I'd brought the wrong one.

I hadn't. That was me. It was some of the best work I'd done.

It took me an embarrassingly long time to understand what was happening, because I kept diagnosing the wrong problem. I thought the work wasn't strong enough. So I took more classes. I got better. The work got stronger.

Nothing changed.

Here's what was actually going on: my materials were three different people. A boy. A young Diane Keaton. And whoever walked through the door in real life. Each piece was fine. Together they were noise. Anyone looking at me had to do the work of figuring out what I was — and nobody has time for that. They just move to the next person, whose story is obvious.

That's not a talent problem. It's not a hustle problem. And it's definitely not the problem more classes solve, which is why more classes didn't solve it.

It's a coherence problem.

I've spent thirty years working since then, and I now think it's the most common reason talented actors stay invisible. Not lack of ability. Lack of a legible story.

I'll write more about that in a day or so — specifically about the thing most actors believe about themselves that turns out to be only half true.

P.S. — Enrollment for the fall Casting DNA™ program is open through September 21, and there's an early bird price through September 8. Details are here. More on all of it this week.
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