Auditions And Stuff

Will nothing turn your unrelenting hearts? Then, Joan, discover thine infirmity, That warranteth by law to be thy privilege. I am with child, ye bloody homicides: Murder not then the fruit within my womb, Although ye hale me to a violent death.

Kind of stopped posting about the college audition process on here, but I wanted to announce that next year I’ll be attending University of Minnesota/Guthrie’s BFA actor training program!

Which Winter’s Tale monologue is it? DM me I can help you pick something out :)

No, it’s more than that (beat) It’s like when I go running in the park...if I still could...every week or so, not every day, but every week or two some guy drives by or walks by and says something to me. You know, “nice ass” or “I want to jog with you.” or “fuck you.” or “fuck me.” It’s been happening since I was twelve, so I know how to ignore it. But every tenth time or so, I still feel it. I feel reduced. I feel like everything that I know about myself- than I’m a good writer and I’ve read a lot of books, and... I like fall better than spring or... I haven’t had many friends really since my parents died, even though that was a long time ago- everything I know about myself, just gets wiped out. It’s like I’m just this thing running down the sidewalk. I’m not me anymore. I’m just this thing. (beat) And that’s how I feel now. All the time.

The regent conquers, and the Frenchmen fly. Now help, ye charming spells and periapts; And ye choice spirits that admonish me And give me signs of future accidents. [Thunder] You speedy helpers, that are substitutes Under the lordly monarch of the north, Appear and aid me in this enterprise. [Enter Fiends] This speedy and quick appearance argues proof Of your accustom'd diligence to me. Now, ye familiar spirits, that are cull'd Out of the powerful regions under earth, Help me this once, that France may get the field. [They walk, and speak not] O, hold me not with silence over-long! Where I was wont to feed you with my blood, I'll lop a member off and give it you In earnest of further benefit, So you do condescend to help me now. [They hang their heads] No hope to have redress? My body shall Pay recompense, if you will grant my suit. [They shake their heads] Cannot my body nor blood-sacrifice Entreat you to your wonted furtherance? Then take my soul, my body, soul and all, Before that England give the French the foil. [They depart] See, they forsake me! Now the time is come That France must vail her lofty-plumed crest And let her head fall into England's lap. My ancient incantations are too weak, And hell too strong for me to buckle with: Now, France, thy glory droopeth to the dust.

For as long as I can remember, I was molded and shaped in the form of somebody else’s concept of a woman, never mine. The church taught it to me, parochial schools taught it to me, my mother, my father- God, you couldn’t get out of the midwest without its stamp of approval. I was taught to be a good girl, a wife and a mother but never a person. You could be a carbon copy but don’t mess with being an original. That’s what you married, Jake. A good girl. As good and as obedient as my mother, never suspecting, of course, that it was three martinis a day that kept her obedient... And then one day I woke up and said to myself, “I don’t want to be anyone’s concept of me except me...not even Jake’s”... You are so important to me, but you’re also consumed with creating your own images and characters, planning every detail of their life, molding them and shaping them into your creations, your concepts...And the minute I tried to step out on my own, to try to be someone I created, that I controlled, you made me pay so dearly for it. You made me feel like a plagiarist... And so one day in Chicago, I let myself become a very bad little girl. The next morning I looked in the mirror and I sure didn’t like what I saw. But I saw the possibility of becoming someone who would have to be accepted on her terms. And until you begin to see me, Jake, My Maggie, I am getting out of this house, out of this life, and out of your word processor... I may be making the biggest mistake of my life but at least it’ll be mine.

Hi there! Try looking at some plays by Lauren Gunderson, Itamar Moses, Amy Herzog, Paula Vogel, and Lynn Nottage. DM me and we can talk about your casting type and I can give you some more specific ideas.

I know you think that because we’re very different and I’m younger than you are I don’t expect you to take me seriously, but I actually do expect you to take me seriously. No, you don’t. You think I’m naive. You think my ideas aren’t grounded in the real world. I know. That’s why you never really listen to me, like deeply. But you know, my Venus may be in Aquarius and my moon may be in Pisces but I have Capricorn sun and Capricorn rising. Right, you probably don’t know what that means, because you weren’t actually listening to me when I was telling you about my chart. You were like pawing me every second back then but you weren’t listening to me. You forget all the important things I tell you about myself.

What I’m TRYING to say is - no matter what I do, I - I can’t seem to find - and I thought that you - maybe still, maybe you - are you it? I mean, are you him? If not you than who?

Look on thy country, look on fertile France, And see the cities and the towns defaced By wasting ruin of the cruel foe. As looks the mother on her lowly babe When death doth close his tender dying eyes, See, see the pining malady of France; Behold the wounds, the most unnatural wounds, Which thou thyself hast given her woful breast. O, turn thy edged sword another way; Strike those that hurt, and hurt not those that help. One drop of blood drawn from thy country's bosom Should grieve thee more than streams of foreign gore: Return thee therefore with a flood of tears, And wash away thy country's stained spots. Besides, all French and France exclaims on thee, Doubting thy birth and lawful progeny. Who joint'st thou with but with a lordly nation That will not trust thee but for profit's sake? When Talbot hath set footing once in France And fashion'd thee that instrument of ill, Who then but English Henry will be lord And thou be thrust out like a fugitive? Call we to mind, and mark but this for proof, Was not the Duke of Orleans thy foe? And was he not in England prisoner? But when they heard he was thine enemy, They set him free without his ransom paid, In spite of Burgundy and all his friends. See, then, thou fight'st against thy countrymen And joint'st with them will be thy slaughtermen. Come, come, return; return, thou wandering lord: Charles and the rest will take thee in their arms

Hi there! sorry this is such a late response, check out Proof by David Auburn, Seven Homeless Mammoths Wander New England by Madeleine George, Picnic by Inge, Pretty Theft by Adam Szymkowicz, Silent Sky by Lauren Gunderson

I had this moment... this wave of exhilaration came over me and the exhilaration was feeling... It was worth it. People getting struck by lightning and whacked in the head with bottles... A certain amount of... brutality was worth it to see a rock concert next to the ocean. The night your mom died felt like that, you know? My mother was sick, yours was dead... But I felt so happy to be with you. Maybe that’s how life works, you know? All these hideous things, but you get little pockets of joy to get you through. Rock concerts on the ocean. Puzzles and TV.

So wait so are you saying that you’re not the kind of guy who will want something to be permanent, like, ever with anyone, like, that’s just not something you’re going to want to do, or are you saying it’s not something you can see yourself doing with me because of something that you think isn’t right for you about me.

What is decreed must be, and be this so.

My very soul of counsel! stop my mouth.