I should have started this a long time ago, but here we are. So, let’s go back to the beginning.
I Love Art! I went to college in 2007 at a local university with the intention of getting my bachelor’s in fine arts. Art is my life! It’s just another form of story-telling and I also get to use my creative ADHD brain (Another topic entirely). After I finished my sophomore year, I ran out of money, so I decided to sit out for a couple years, get married to my fiancée, Mara, buy a house and have a kid – Rylan. You know, the cheaper route.
But something was missing. I was still an illustrator, but I was stuck in a rut at a dead-end job at a call-center and my art was nothing more than a hobby. So, in 2015 I decided to get my butt in gear, become an adult and finish what I started. I went back to school. I learned so much more than I realized I was missing. I made a lot of art and met so many awesome people. And in 2017 (yes, a full decade later as a 27 year-old dad), I walked across that stage, shook the university president’s hand and took a little piece of paper that said that I was a learned artist. I was so proud that my wife and son could see me be successful in finally completing such a huge challenge.
But that was it. The end. No more school. No direction. So… what do I do now? No one was hiring an illustrator (and believe me, I looked). I just kept doing what I knew how to do: simply answer the phones at the call-center, try to be a good husband and father and hopefully draw some good doodles in my free time, I even started an unsuccessful YouTube art tutorial channel: Draw with Jordan! (Yeah, I thought it was clever at the time).
I was a failure.
Yup. I felt totally lost and disappointed in myself. I kept comparing myself to other artists I knew who were getting jobs right out of school or getting their work displayed in art galleries. Even the one kid who’s art wasn’t even that good and didn’t even really try all through school (you know the one) ended up in a gallery with other great artist. And to top it all off, within 18 months, my wife had enrolled in and completed cosmetology school and began a career as a professional hair stylist (yes, she was hired at a salon before she even finished school because she’s that good). And she did all that while working a full-time job and being a kick-ass mom to our little ginger goblin. I was so proud of her! She is the most dedicated, driven and self-motivated woman, nay, person I have ever met. So, if she could do all that and still be successful, what was I doing wrong?
But where does voiceover come in? After all, this is a Voice Actor’s Journey, so why all the talk about art school and call-centers and stuff? Just be patient, little eggroll. All in good time.
Smash Cut to 2019. I had decided to leave the call-center and deliver groceries to people who were afraid to go out in public. And after a joking throw-away comment from my sister about a career change, I decided to pursue a glamourous career as a food-service waitstaff professional. It wasn’t ideal, but at least I could see people face-to-face and I felt that I could at least help people with what they want, even if it was just getting their food. But I was still lost. Something was missing.
So, after 3 years of trying to convince people that I’m worth more than 10%, I knew that I needed to do something about that itch that no other career was scratching:
I needed to start acting.
But I had no clue where to start. Everything about theatre was so foreign to me. Finally, I messaged my uncle who was a big theatre guy in college. He referred me a guy he knew – Johnathan Schofield – who had started a small, local theatre company. I got in touch with Johnathan (Who we now affectionately call “Schofie”) and we decided to meet at Starbucks and chat.
The day came to meet and I found myself ordering a forgettable coffee and locating my potential mentor sitting at a corner table. He introduced himself and told me how he liked theatre, but like a lot of people, he didn’t have the time or money to do acting school. So, he created The Mistfit Theatre Company so people like me could pursue theatre with no risk and then he began to tell me about a new, upcoming project he was working on: a musical parody of The Wizard of Oz. It sounded hilarious.
But then he asked a question that caught me off guard:
“What is it that you’re looking for?”
I told him that I have always loved story-telling and theatre and have wanted to try it, but I have no experience and I would love to just help with behind-the-scenes stuff just to get into it and see how things are done. He nodded and sipped his coffee. I could see that he was building something in his mind. We talked for a little while longer about our non-theatre-related day jobs and families and eventually parted ways.
He messaged me a little while after asking to meet again the following week. This time he brought along this new play’s director, Jessica Ann MacQuarrie to tell me about the upcoming production more in depth and what sort of help she would need for the up-coming project.
She then handed me a single sheet of paper and asked me to read it.
It was a script. A single page from the second act for the play they were producing. I was very confused. “I have no theatre experience”, I repeated to them. But she already knew that. Did Schofie see something from our last talk that I didn’t. Nonetheless, I looked down at the page and saw that one character’s lines were already highlighted.
I read the lines to myself to see what sort of character this was and it made me laugh aloud. It was very vague and out-of-context, but this character certainly had an arrogant and perhaps a little immature feel to him. So, in the middle of Starbucks, I put on my best Gaston impression (complete with facial gestures) and read the lines to an invisible audience. I took a semi-bow as per the stage direction on the paper and ended the scene.
Jessica and Schofie laughed and clapped. It was fun! They told me that they would keep in touch if they needed help with the set stuff or lighting or any potential future Misfit Theatre stuff. I thanked them for their time and we finished our coffee and went our separate ways.
A week later, I got an email with a very peculiar statement:
“Jordan,
We would like to offer you the role of the Tin Man in our production of The Inspector of Oz”
Sincerely,
Jessica MacQuarrie
“She sent it to the wrong person”, I told myself and so I politely emailed Jessica back and told her that this was clearly a mistake and I would be happy to help with production, but I don’t think I’m ready to have a role in a production in the near future.
She messaged me back. It wasn’t a mistake. She wanted me to be in the show. She wanted ME to be in the show?
She added to her response with this:
“When I cast people I look for energy, enthusiasm, and a willingness to learn. You have all of those qualities and it means a lot that you sought out the possibility and followed up at every step of the way. For this show specifically, we wanted cast members with potential and a hunger to tackle these fun characters. We’re very happy to have you join our group!“
Wow! I got cast in a real play! An actual paying job acting! This was unbelievable. Wait, what am I doing? I don’t know how to do this. This is going to be in front of real people. And it’s a musical. I have to sing!? I can’t sing. I’ve had no training.
All these thoughts flooded my brain and I considered writing Jessica back and telling her that I’m not ready and maybe she should find someone else. That is until I told Mara about it. She knew I was ready even if I didn’t. She started telling me all the things that’s she had noticed over the years: how I always do funny voices, how I’m always exaggerating boring, everyday things, how I am often told that I “have a great voice for radio”, and how I can never just tell a simple story without acting out the emotion.
She was right. Well, duh! Of course, she is. She wouldn’t tell me all this just so I would go make a fool of myself. Would she…? Nah, she wouldn’t. Right?
I accepted the role and began the 5 months of rehearsals. I took 3 hours of my day to drive to a small dance studio in another city so I could act like a pompous fitness instructor made of metal.
There was so much to do! I had to memorize not just my lines, but everyone else’s too! I had to learn to read music so I could learn my one song (Wait, it’s a solo now?). I had to learn choreography. I had to paint my face and hands with silver and look as douchey as possible. I had to learn to improvise in case something went wrong. I had to do all this at the same time. And I loved every minute of it! But every minute I kept asking myself if I was really the right person for this. Every minute just waiting for Jessica or Schofie to finally come to their senses and replace me with someone who actually knew what they were doing. But they never did.
November 14: Opening Night.
Here it is. My first real show. The other actors have done this all before and are all back stage in their little dressing rooms getting ready as they always do. And I’m with them. Afraid that I’m getting in their way. They’re all professionals at this. I’m just the amateur. This isn’t real. I’m in the show too! And people are gonna see me with them!
The spot light centers on the stage and Jessica comes up to welcome the packed house and thank them for coming to our production.
I stand backstage, pacing in the green room as I hear the overture begin. I look at the monitor screen and see the stage. The musical narrator comes from stage left to introduce the story. Her song ends. Applause.
22 minutes later, Act II begins. Two incompetent detectives interrogate Dorothy on the death of the Wicked Witch’s sister. Dorothy tells them about a rusty friend she made while she was in Oz and how she oiled him up and helped him to speak, so maybe he can shed some light on the scandal. Dorothy opens a door on the simple stage set.
Enter Tin Man:
I stand in the doorway. Silver face glistening in the light. Axe swung over my shoulder. Funnel-hat cocked pretentiously to the side. I’m blinded by the spotlight. I step forward and strike a faux-model-esque stance and say my opening line in the most suave way I can muster:
“Hello.”
The audience laughs. It worked! I’m doing it! And I’m funny? My wife was right. I CAN do this.
I take a deep breath and follow the softening laughter with my next line:
“Allow me to introduce…myself:
Tin Man Esquire. Woodsman. Philanthropist.
And best-selling author of the Buns of Tin workout books.”
I take a chance and improvise a deep lunge to display the results of my aforementioned fitness techniques.
Roars of laughter. I look across to stage-left. I see Jessica – the woman who as been to every rehearsal and practice and has seen our performance hundreds of times – bent over, holding her sides and tears in her eyes while she adds to the euphony of guffaws.
The show continues and more laughter and gasps ensue as twists are revealed and the detectives finally arrest their culprit. The show ends. The curtains draw closed and the house begins to applaud. They continue to applaud.
The clapping goes on for what seems like forever. The curtains open once again and we all take the stage one final time to take a bow and thank our audience for attending.
The show is over. The guests leave, save for a few close family and friends who stay to congratulate the actors and producers.
I stand to the side. Proud of myself and happy that I didn’t make too many noticeable mistakes. I smile.
I look out to the few remaining guests and I see Schofie talking to some of the Munchkins. I make my way to him so I can shake his hand and thank him for the opportunity to be a part of his production.
He takes my hand in his and tells me I did well and he enjoyed the show. And then he asks me something provoking:
“Did you find what you were looking for?”
I smile and the dried silver makeup cracks on my cheeks:
“Yes. Yes, I did.”
I am a story-teller.