We moved to this small, rural Ohio town a little over five years ago. Since the summer of 2013, my husband started (and finished) medical school, became a doctor, and is currently in residency. My daughter grew from a preschooler to a fourth grader, and my son from an infant to a kindergartner. And I … I built a voice studio and starting teaching full-time (or whatever it is when you have so many part-time jobs that they equal one full-time job), and I’ve consistently struggled to eke out a performance “career” because this town is a performance desert.
My current town is a tiny-ass little academic bubble in Southeast Ohio. For metaphorical purposes, let’s call it an island–a performance desert island, on which I have committed to stay stranded for the next five years for financial purposes. For the last five years, I’ve played Tom Hanks in the first half of Castaway: shooting up flares, trying to call for help, screaming, lighting giant fires–as ya do. Well, I am now the skinny, tanned Tom Hanks of the second half of the movie (except for the skinny, tanned part) who realized that no one was coming to help him and then built the f*cking raft himself. No one is coming to help me. I’m going to have to build the f*cking raft myself.
What tools do I have to build my raft? Well, I have approximately three marketable skills: singing, acting, and teaching people singing and acting. That’s what I’ve got going for me, and it’s pretty much impossible to do the first two here–let alone get paid to perform. So, what’s a grown-ass lady to do? I don’t know. That’s why I’m back here writing.
It’s been 832 days since my last blog post, and that’s
It’s really hard to be a performing artist in rural America. Really hard. So, this is for all of you out there trying to make a go of it. I prom promise to be honest about the struggle (which is so real), and maybe we can figure some things out together. xoxo2