To The Actors In My Current Play

Dear Actors,
“My actors,” as my friend the producer would say.
God. How do you put up with me? I used to think directing, my great passion, brought out the best in me- charisma, friendliness, determination, immense productivity and responsibility. I still see that, but now I also see how I can be awfully controlling, rude, impatient and inconsiderate. I hang my head in shame as I think of certain experiences. Have you gotten tired yet? By the end of the season, will you be yet another group of bitter actors who will never join a play of mine again? Have you seen what a terrible person I can be? Do you care? What matters more to you? Do any of you stay with me out of pity, like my regular stage manager likely does, or do you truly appreciate me and enjoy my presence?
In a more positive, albeit less likely direction: be honest, have I ever inspired any of you? Do you feel I taught you anything, or pushed you a little out of your comfort zone? If I have for even one person, I will feel immense satisfaction and success. Sure, I work very hard for the plays to go on, for people to watch them and congratulate me. But what matters most of all is what you think. If you didn’t have a good, slightly challenging, altogether fulfilling time- what’s the point?
What do you think of me? When you see me in the distance, reading or thinking or pacing up and down and muttering frantically, what’s the first thing that comes to mind?
You will never know how much work is done for you. It is true that actors are generally self centered, just as it is true that almost every director will occasionally (or more than occasionally) complain about or look down upon actors. And if actors are not personally self centered, they are self centered as a group. You think it’s a lot of work to show up to rehearsals- and, heaven forbid, NOTIFY if you can’t come- and learn your lines. Try managing dozens of people of all kinds, making sure all the actors and designers are ready, hiring enough people that you don’t have to do absolutely everything, convincing everyone that the show is worth doing, showing up hours before performances, and doing little tiring things that no one else will do, like folding programs and sending out a schedule. It is another experience entirely. Worthwhile, for sure, but very difficult, and often underappreciated. At the end of everything, who is it who gets applauded on stage, night after night? You! You know how many times I wished someone could just give me a bar of chocolate and say, “You’re great, keep going”? The rare encouragements are cherished and held in my memory like shiny stones. Little things matter more than you think. A small comment can change my day, while one person missing a rehearsal can screw up everything. Take care with what you say and do.
Directors are all a little mad, they say. It’s true. A sane person wouldn’t last. The crazy amount of discouragement would get them down, because there are all the reasons in the world not to direct.
And yet we do it anyway. Both teachers and artists, both managers and independents. Theater, my favorite thing in the world. Directing, my great passion.
My actors, thank you for everything.
Regards,
Your director