To celebrate May the Fourth, I present one of the first (maybe the first) performance of my short story The Trade (which I wrote in 2002), with Paul and Storm at the very first W00tstock, way back in 2009:

This year, I have the privilege of curating four boxes for Quarterly. Because my interests are so diverse, and because I’ve been on this planet for four decades, I thought it would be fun to use each box to pull together some things that reflect the different influences I had in each decade of my life.

This is a video of me unboxing my first box for this year, which is inspired by the 1970s (not the 1980s, which I say at the beginning of the video and didn’t realize until we were editing and it was too late to change it).

If you’d like to subscribe to the remaining boxes I’m curating this year, or just pick up one of them, you can do that at Quarterly.co/wil My next box will be filled with things that were a big part of my life in the 1980s, like video games and RPGs and stuff.

I answer questions on my Tumblr from time to time, and this one from today felt worth crossposting here.

I answered:

An agent is never something that you need to afford. Legitimate agents only make money when you make money, by taking a 10% commission from the total you were paid. When you’re in SAG/AFTRA, most of the jobs you get will offer “Scale +10%” which means the SAG/AFTRA scale rate, plus the 10% for your agent (so if you make $1500, you make $1500, not $1350 after your agent gets the $150 commission).

Any agent who wants money upfront for anything is a scammer and should be avoided at all costs. Ways agents will try to trick you include paying them for headshots, submissions, coaching, etc. Legit agents will be able to recommend other people who offer those services (except submissions — that’s an agent’s job and shouldn’t cost anything).

But that’s just one half of things. That’s the business side (and not even all of it). Let’s talk about the other side: the art side, the side that keeps you working part-time jobs so you can go on auditions and hopefully work as an actor. The business of acting sucks. I’ve been at it for nearly 35 years, and I still endure the kind of bullshit that I thought would have gone away (for me, with my experience) now: casting people who don’t make an effort to give me anything to work with, directors who don’t know what they want or how to communicate what they want to actors, non-actors wondering what my “real” job is, and on and on and on. What kept me focused and dedicated through years and years of that (and the struggle to just get any work at all) was how much I loved performing, how much I loved the process of creating a character, getting to know him and his relationships with the other characters, and bringing whatever that reality was to life.

I’ve worked on wonderful things, movies like Stand By Me, and dozens of episodes of TV like Eureka and Leverage, and I’ve worked in truly awful crapfests to pay my bills, like Deepcore 2000 and Fish Don’t Blink. I’ve had big roles in shows like The Big Bang Theory and tiny roles that were almost cut out entirely, like Pie In The Sky. In every case, though, I loved the process of creating the character I was going to play. I loved the experience I had writing about and exploring who he was. I loved breaking down the scenes into actions and beats, and then discovering new things I hadn’t even thought about when I played in those scenes with other actors. That love, that joy, that feeling of rightness when I was in the creative moment kept me going through all the business crap that I hated. It gave me something to look forward to and remember when I was subjected, again and again, to the fundamental and inherent unfairness of the industry.

Another way of saying all of this is: if you’re going to succeed as an actor — whether you work a lot or not — you have to need it the way a normal person needs food and water. It has to be such a fundamental part of who you are, you will endure some pretty shitty times and make a lot of sacrifices while you work on your craft and your art. If you don’t need it that way, if it isn’t something you’re willing to fight for, then you aren’t going to be a happy person. You aren’t going to be a fulfilled person, and that will make you a desperate and frustrated person when you audition.

Being an actor isn’t easy (if it was easy, everyone would do it and we wouldn’t see hundreds of hours of bullshit reality television clogging up the airwaves), but it is also a calling for a certain kind of person. If you’re that kind of person, and you’re willing to do the work, you are answering that calling and taking your place in a long and wonderful tradition. Remember: everything worth doing is hard, and for an actor, there is no better feeling in the world than absolutely nailing a scene, and bringing an audience along with you.

I hope this is helpful. Break a leg!