I like simple statements, like four steps to getting things done. Of course, nothing is ever as simple as a statement, but they can make what you finally figure out a little easier to remember.

For example:

More than 40 years ago, my grandfather told me a parable about a turtle on its back on a fence post.

There are a lot of versions of this story, and thanks to the power of the Internet, you can look them up if you want too. 

My grandfather's was different and it went like this:

Boy, if you see a turtle on his back on a fence post, think "What the hell? How'd that happen?", then take a second to imagine what the turtle is thinking.

He added. "And help the poor bastard down," but he was talking about the art of logical empathy. I'm not (although it is a good thing to learn).

I'm talking about a one-sentence acting class.

Your character is a turtle on its back on a fence post. As confusing as the situation is to you, the actor, your job is to imagine what the turtle is going through and act that.

Sometimes, things are just this simple. Here's how to get things done  ... in four steps.

1) Decide what you'd like to do.
2) Decide it is something you might be able to do.
3) Know that you can do it.
4) Do it.

It is that easy, but you can get derailed at every step so watch yourself.

1) You have to pick one thing at a time and you have to stick with it all the way through ... at least the first three steps.

2) You must have the confidence and commitment to whatever it is you think you'd like to do. This is an act of soul searching and, finally, faith.

I'd like to be a stuntman, for example, but I'm not willing to spend the time and energy learning to throw myself safely off a building. (Oh, and I don't have the confidence either), I know this about myself, and as a result, I've resigned myself to a stuntman-free life.

3) This is where the commitment of time and energy comes in. You won't know you can do something until you've train yourself in the skills necessary. If you think you'd like to be an actor and are pretty sure it is something you might be able to do, then you need to prepare yourself to do it. And, you'd better prepare yourself well, because there are 100,000 people after the same thing.

Step 3 isn't about being perfect, but it requires that you know you can compete. Don't just believe you can do it. Know you can do it ... through training and confidence. This doesn't mean you have to be perfect

4) Don't wait for someone to let you do something. In theater, this is a dangerous trap. We keep going to auditions or submitting plays and we hope someone lets us play. The odds are not in your favor, so stop waiting.

Make opportunities for yourself.

Take your own risks.

Put yourself out there.

Childish, egocentric me thinks an audience of two is as important as an audience of 200, so I spend most of my premium brain-time making the show.

Theater needs to be entertaining, thought provoking, interesting and different or it fails. 

That's the hard part, right?

Only after I make the show, do I expend energy on building audience. 

Childish, egocentric me is wrong. Childish, egocentric me suffers from "Audience Afterthought Syndrome."

Theater needs audience -- even those two or three people -- or it is just deliberate insanity. 

But ...

... Making theater for less than 40 people a night is just debilitating insanity. There is no sustainability ... and theater without sustainability is childish and arrogant.

So ...

Why do people making independent theater suffering from "Audience Afterthought Syndrome?"

Because, building audience is harder than making theater. A lot harder. 

And, there's the childish arrogance. "What I make is good. Mommy likes it. Daddy likes it (well, probably not, but Daddy is a dick so it doesn't matter. Mommy likes it.) I'll make it and people will come. Then, they'll tell their friends, who will also come. Then, the critics will come and shout my praises. Then more people will come. Why wouldn't they? I'm precious."

It is crap, of course, but we still believe it because we are precious. And because if we make audience size part of our thinking, we have a metric to prove or disprove our preciousness. You can argue that an audience doesn't like your piece of theater because it isn't their cup of tea or it is over their heads, but with audience size in the metric, you can simply count the butts in the seats and measure your worth.

You have to start using the anti-precious phrase, "I failed." This is no reflection, necessarily, on the art. That might still be brilliant. But, if you can't get people in the seats, maybe you are in the wrong line of work.

Of course, I'm not talking about you, dear reader. I'm talking about me.

It is time I grew up theatrically. I'm not precious anymore, so I'm gonna figure out ways to build audience. I'll keep post my research here, so stay tuned.