five-trick pony

My beef with NBC's "Smash"

2012-02-23T17:00:00.000-08:00

In this corner, weighing hundreds of thousands of channel views on YouTube, is "Submissions Only," a hilarious web series about which I gushed last month. It parodies New York's theater audition scene, has great characters, brilliant comedy, and is at the same time procedural and informative. Aaaand in the other corner, with swiftly declining ratings, is "Smash," NBC's ~~soap opera~~ drama that chronicles the mounting of a Broadway musical. There's sex, tears, British accents, lots of montages of Catherine McPhee/Megan Hilty gazing longingly, swallowing their pain, singing through hardship, and reaching for the stars!

Okay, okay, I'll stop being cheeky. As you can probably tell from my preamble, "Smash" is not my favorite show. But, here's the thing: I watched the pilot and didn't hate it. In fact, I liked it. I was rooting for it so hard! It's a TV show about Broadway, for Pete's sake! And that's awesome!

But since then, my hopes have been all but dashed. As the characters get flatter, and the stakes get lower, and the camera-mugging gets muggier, disillusionment has overtaken me.

The show's just not working. Here's why.

(DISCLAIMER: I understand only three episodes have aired, so I freely admit that this ~~rant~~ post is by no means conclusive. Let it thusly be deemed cautionary -- an airing of my grievances. I remain hopeful that these ~~train wrecks~~ flaws can be resolved ~~before it gets canceled~~ throughout the remainder of the season. Let it also be noted that I'm no expert on some of these matters; I can speak only from my limited experience in the biz of show, armed with my relative ability as a writer/performer to identify when something rings true and when it ~~makes me want to vom~~ comes off as hollow.)

1. Marilyn Monroe.

There's a blonde elephant in the room, and it's Marilyn Monroe. Namely: why her? "Smash" relies so heavily on the intrigue of Marilyn Monroe as a person. They're constantly alluding to the contrast between her larger-than-life persona and her quiet vulnerability, threading it like it's some kind of important theme or whatever.

Unfortunately, I agree with the nay-sayers on the show: "Who would want to see a musical about Marilyn?" The sad truth is that she doesn't resonate culturally with this generation of viewers. When the writing duo (played by Christian Borle and Debra Messing) haggle about which characters they should include in their joint work, they mention Arthur Miller and Joe DiMaggio with such gravitas, as if we should know how and why they are so profoundly important to Ms. Monroe's story.

Except, um, who cares? My level of understanding of Marilyn Monroe has as much depth as a Wikipedia page. That's just the truth. Sorry. And I'm guessing I'm not alone.

So I'm skeptical about where this can go. As long as the show's fictional producer (Anjelica Huston), writers, and actors are so invested in Marilyn, we as viewers will be expected to share similarly heightened feelings. I mean, Megan Hilty's Ivy treats her actor's journey of discovery like it's the most sacred and enthralling pursuit of all time, but I couldn't care less. I feel alienated, and, frankly, bored when I hear her mention it.

I can't really see how this whole Marilyn thing is going to fly, especially if it remains so central to the show. In short, if I were a producer approached to invest in Marilyn: The Musical, I would hold onto my money.

2. Musicals take years to put up, and yet this process is the show's main source of conflict.

Everybody is racing to mount Marilyn: The Musical. Why? The thing is, writing and putting up a musical is the slowest process EVARR. Musicals (like all works of art -- plays, books, screenplays) go through many drafts and iterations. In theater, this happens in the form of table reads, staged readings, workshops, and then maybe -- just maybe -- full-on productions. Which is to say: nobody, especially not Ivy and Karen, should care about this confounded workshop (for which producer Eileen Rand is hoping to raise a whopping $200,000?? Why??).

By and by, this idea of "putting up a musical" is the centerpiece of the show's sources of "conflict." (Who will get the part??? Will Karen stay in the ensemble??? Will the evil and weirdly monotone-voiced assistant demand credit for the writers' idea?????) But this backdrop couldn't be less dramatic. The whole "will she or won't she get the part conflict" never mattered. Ivy got the part for now, but Karen remains in the wings in the ensemble. Also, there are lots of auditions. Lots of jobs. Lots of parts. So who cares who gets it?

Not me.

3. The show would be interesting if it would just be honest.

People are fascinated with worlds about which they know nothing. There's a reason why we all loved (still love!) Law and Order: it's the ultimate procedural show. The layperson doesn't really have a day-to-day sense of how crime and punishment works, so we love seeing it dramatized in a step-by-step manner that's not (too) far-fetched.

This was why I was so excited about "Smash"; I was looking forward to seeing a creative theater process on the small screen. If you read my book, you know it's an interest of mine to purvey to non-theater folk what it's like to work in theater: I tried to write about how it works, what kinds of obstacles there are -- the basic nuts and bolts of the process.

Instead, "Smash" totally bastardizes the process, almost like it's embarrassed by it. "Smash" so badly wants the theater world to be something it's not -- a world where there is ONLY ONE great director, and he's hot and British (not to mention straight and predatory); a world where all high-powered producers dine, by coincidence, in the same restaurant; a world where struggling waitresses have great apartments; a world where one writer can HATE HER PARTNER'S ASSISTANT SO MUCH BECAUSE HE BEHAVES IN DEEPLY INAPPROPRIATE WAYS but not gently request that he be let go.

Okay, okay, I know: lots of shows distort reality and make stuff larger-than-life. But in "Smash" there's such a fundamental disconnect, it doesn't come off as distorted, it comes off as surreal! It's like "Smash" merely wears the disguise of a show about theater, when really it's a half-baked soap opera about...nothing.

I wish it would just be more honest. Which leads me too...

4. The show needs fewer and better characters.

Who are these people? What do they want? Why does Debra Messing's son really, really want a Chinese sister when he's going away to college in like a year? Do you know anything about Ivy besides her being really, really, really into Marilyn, slightly neglected by her unsupportive family, and that she's maybe starting to like the director (with whom she's sleeping)?

And what the eff is that assistant's problem? Seriously, though. Get the hook.

These characters ring flat. And there are so many of them! Show me some depth, please. "Smash" needs three-dimensional characters with real sources of conflict, especially since the tone of the whole show is über-serious. I can count on one hand the show's funny moments (and I would only raise one finger for the, uh, three times Eileen threw a Manhattan in her ex-husband's face).

A dramatic TV show takes real human drama that's rooted in something -- real backstory, real stakes -- not something that's thrown in after the fact, like spices on an undercooked dish.

5. Autotune.

Why. Why. Why.

And thus ends this post. I hope some of these things can be resolved, because I do want "Smash" to succeed. I suppose I'm passionate about this because it's one of the first mainstream attempts (in recent memory) to portray the theater world to a non-theater audience. It also features some super talented actors, many of whom are fairly new to TV, and I hate to see them short-changed with such sub-par material.

Here's hoping things get better! As always, I invite you to comment and join the discussion.

Peace out!

--FLR

"Submissions Only" is freaking fantastic

2012-02-03T16:49:00.000-08:00

Yo dudes! I may be behind the times, but I finally got around to watching every single episode of Submissions Only, a web series that parodies the New York audition and theater scene, and I am totally HOOKED. If you're at all curious about what it's like to work as an actor in New York City, particularly as a musical theater actor, this is a very accurate (not to mention HILARIOUS) glimpse into that whole world.

The series showcases mondo-talented actors whom you'll recognize from stage and screen -- featuring the insanely funny Kate Wetherhead, who also (brilliantly) writes and directs (alongside Andrew Keenan-Bolger), Broadway star Santino Fontana, whose name sounds like an Italian soda spritzer (and who is, as the Italians say, molto simpatico), as well as Colin Hanlon, whom I saw play Fiyero on the Wicked tour, and whom I occasionally see working out at my gym, looking extremely strapping (no, I haven't yet said hello; instead I lurk in corners, staring wantonly). Bonus: There are tons of great cameos from the über-famous, including Kristin Chenoweth. Yay!

So, what are you waiting for? WATCH IT! Check out the complete episode roster here -- and brace yourselves for lots o' laughs.

My Facebook timeline ends here

2012-01-04T12:27:00.000-08:00

Eight years of ups and downs, prying questions, misunderstandings, and hurt feelings. It's time to end it.

I'm talking, of course, about Facebook.

You, like me, probably waste hours on Facebook. You constantly check your mini-feed, looking up old friends, supplanting real conversation with "Miss you!" Maybe you browse through their photos, read through old exchanges, piece together their identities from fragmented clues.

Like me, you've probably gotten pissed off at Facebook once or twice. Since its inception, Facebook users have endured dozens of interface changes, many of them jarring. Each time, we rise up, indignant -- Facebook's gone too far! -- before letting quiet acceptance weigh over us, like a heavy, cozy blanket.

But I won't that happen again. Not today! Because today, I met Timeline.

The e-straw that's broken my Facebook's back.

You've probably seen the Timeline, a.k.a. Facebook's new layout. It aggregates all your profile's elements into newspaper-like columns, organized by year, placing photos next to wall posts next to status updates, in a sort of life collage. It frames each tiny experience as its own headline, and lets readers browse through entire years with single clicks.

Some say the Timeline layout is smart. It's a powerful tool. It used to be that -- unless you spent hours clicking deeper and deeper into the recesses of someone's wall -- old posts were inaccessible. Like one's memory, your past slowly languished. But now, off-hand remarks you made in 2004 are a living, breathing part of who you are. Your narrative. Your past, made present. Your identity.

Yes, there's something to be said about weaving together a story through primary sources (letters, emails, dialogue). But, Facebook? What kinds of tracks have we been laying?

Early on, Facebook lulled me into thinking it was fleeting, the way, in a real conversation, words are uttered, then never spoken again. So I posted messages on whims, while drunk, while trying to seem funny. But for years, Facebook has apparently been collecting my experiences, co-opting them as its own. Now I feel like somebody else, entirely separate from who I really am.

Somehow, without my consent, Facebook has editorialized my life.

And what kinds of bogus articles are these? Who is my editor? Based on what I've read so far, I want my staff writers fired.

These are not clues to who I am. They are presentational, misleading, and mundane. Facebook was born of minutia. Pokes. Prods. Who you liked. Little quips and jokes on that revolutionary thing called a "wall" -- a public record of who met who on the quad, what inside jokes were uttered in the dining hall, where you were going out to a party.

I guess it's easier to stay light than dig deep.

But let's not pretend it's anything more than that: life, light. Or maybe, life for the lazy: a social forum for people who don't feel like being social. It's no small wonder it was started by a shy and cooped-up college kid, trying to navigate through dorm life, campus politics, and tenuous relationship statuses.

So how did we get from there to the Timeline? Facebook touts its new layout as "collections of the photos, posts and experiences that help tell your story."

My "story?"

How did I let my story get told in such a lazy way? When did I become the sum of my inconsequential parts?

The Timeline crystallizes everything that I find awful about Facebook, and it boils down to this: we don't use Facebook as we should. It is a simulation of life, and yet it feels more and more like life's actual pulse. We have made it the focus of everything when it should be cowering in the sidelines. (And I don't exclude myself from any of these indictments.)

We should engage in meaningful experience, not obsess over the meaningless. And yet our attention has been captured.

But I'm tired of being snared in that net.

I'm a writer by trade, which probably explains why I'm so uncomfortable with the Timeline -- a place where my truth is constructed from others' chatter.

My Timeline. My story.

What happens when my profile is gone? Who will I be? What will I have? Where will my past disappear to? Will I remember my experiences? Or will I be lost without Facebook telling me who I am?

So what do I do? Yes, I love to interact with fans and readers. I want folks to have a way to stay in touch with me, connect with each other, and get my attention. I suppose the best way is to opt for Facebook Pages. They seem (for now) to be a more manageable, less obtrusive version of a personal profile. Easier to moderate. Easier to contain. No false claims that it's really "me." From now on, I intend to use Facebook for public and professional interactions only. And if you want to get to know me, you can email me, or read my writing.

But when it comes to my identity? My "story?" I need to construct a Timeline in real experience, not accidental history.

So, yeah. I quit.

Christmas means family, family means weird photos

2011-12-25T13:20:00.000-08:00

It's my family's tradition to take a group portrait every 25th of December. Most years, we start off normal:

Then we add the dog(s):

Then we get crazy:

Then we act like "rappers":

We just held one such photo session, this time with two dogs and some signif others. The pics aren't ready yet, but when they are I'll be sure to post this year's iteration.

And a merry, merry Christmas to you!

--FLR

DOG IN SWEATER

2011-12-21T07:44:00.000-08:00

Recently, I discovered something about myself: I LOVE DOGS IN SWEATERS. Behold! A photo of Domi, beloved pooch of Nic Dromard (my Fiyero in SF Wicked, currently Bert in the Mary Poppins tour), wearing a Canadian sweater. AND WHAT IS CUTER THAN THAT, I WANT TO KNOW.

Neti Pots May Not Be So Awesome After All

2011-12-18T08:46:00.000-08:00

This article on Jezebel.com (from a longer one on LiveScience.com) is one of the more bizarre and sad things I've read. Apparently, two unlucky people in Louisiana used Neti Pots -- a homeopathic cold treatment that passes water up through your nose and sinus (watch my demo here) -- and a deadly amoeba living in their tap water burrowed its way into their brains and killed them. Double yikes.

Apparently this is extremely rare, but in light of this, I'm revising my Neti Pot stance from blanket advocacy to PLEASE BOIL THE WATER BEFORE YOU USE IT IN YOUR NETI POT SO AMOEBAS DON'T EAT YOUR BRAINS!

Thank you.
--FLR

Hugh Jackman is literally so awesome

2011-12-02T10:43:00.000-08:00

Last night I went to see Hugh Jackman: Back on Broadway at the Broadhurst theater with my manly yet sensitive boyfriend Marshall. As the near-supernatural theatrics unfolded onstage, we hooted, clapped, and more or less tinkled our undergarments. Why? BECAUSE HUGH JACKMAN IS LITERALLY SO AWESOME.

Let me preface by saying, I wasn't always a Hugh Jackman fan. In fact, on my first date with Marshall, I randomly quoted a then-recent People Magazine interview in which Hugh seemed, to me, too sickeningly good to be true, while Marshall silently thought, I hope it's okay if I later tell this girl that I kind of love Hugh Jackman.

Two years later, the relationship has grown and strengthened -- by which I mean my relationship with Hugh Jackman.

Yes, I've become a convert. Marshall (who is the most unique blend of action-hero junkie, intellectual, and sensitive man-feminist) has helped me to see the light. Together we admire Hugh's unbridled positivity, enthusiasm, and ridiculous all-around talent -- on screen and stage. But, fanatical as we are, little could prepare us for seeing him live -- in a musical theater extravaganza of Jackmanian proportions.

Some of his one-man show comprises personal anecdotes and stories, while the rest is an homage to Golden Broadway and cinema. He sings near-flawlessly, performing both earnest and parodic renditions of several classic songs that made the elder man next to Marshall hum along at sometimes annoying volumes. But no matter! We were all having such a darn good time! When Jackman needs musical-theater-y flair, he's got it: he dances like a long-legged Astaire, donning tap shoes, twirling canes and umbrellas. It got to the point where I couldn't help but keep yelling to Marshall, "WHY IS HE SO TALENTED," which was only partly to get back at the man who wouldn't stop humming.

My absolute favorite number was the Act I closer, "Soliloquy" from Carousel. It artfully showcased his acting and singing abilities, combined in one brilliant song performance. But just as Jackman can pull off such a complex dramatic piece, so can he banter with audience members about -- you name it -- late arrivals, Australian slang, his sweaty white tank top. One minute he's prancing flamboyantly (opening Act II as Peter Allen, in sparkling gold shirt and pants), the next he's showing clips of him popping his neck veins as Wolverine, a freaky man-beast with claws, and then he's performing alongside an Aboriginal didgeridoo ensemble, talking to the audience about cultural understanding.

WHAT!

In summary, I have become a full-fledged fan, and now cannot be stopped. Hugh Jackman is awesome, and I'm going to keep talking about it long after you tell me to shut up!

You should totes go see his show! Hugh Jackman 4-eva!
--FLR

A very hipster Thanksgiving

2011-11-29T09:45:00.000-08:00

Friends, countrymen, readers of Unnaturally Green, watchers of nonsensical videos,

Hope you all had a wonderful Thanksgiving! I had a gloriously familial time with my boyfriend, a.k.a. Gentle Rambo, and his Wisconsin-born, Pennsylvania-bred family of six (Rambo, like me, is a middle child -- observant, quietly brilliant, considerate, only slightly messed-up).

In typical Felicia-fashion, at Thanksgiving dinner (which we happily celebrated on two days, consecutively) I was unable to restrain myself amidst the sweet potatoes, stuffing, and various bread-filled substances, and so gave myself a free pass from no-carb prison.

(I've since been locked back into my cell, where I find myself sneaking various carbohydrate-laden snacks when the warden is looking the other way.)

But there is a point to all this -- totally unrelated -- which is? Oh yeah! I took some photos!

You may not know this charming fact about me, but I've long been complaining about my inability to download the ubiquitous Hipstamatic photo app, favored by hipsters and other garden-variety iPhone users alike, since I have an Android Inspire (the AT&T salesperson told me it was compatible with all iPhone apps, which was clearly a lie, because I also can't download Houzz, a.k.a. the best interior design app evarrr, and I WANT MY MONEY BACK!).

Lo and behold, this weekend I learned there's something called the Retro Camera app -- the I Can't Believe It's Not Butter Android app to the Hipstamatic. All in all, it sufficed! And I took some hipstery photos that I will now post below.

The takeaway from this experience? A hipster-inspired photo app does not a hipster make. You'll see what I mean.

Dazed and confused?

Eating my own hair?

A cat! This might be my best, most hipster-y photo.

Yeah, I know. So not hip.

I threw in this "broken doll" model shot...with a mini Christmas tree...because, why not.

Bye, bye carbohydrates (for now)

2011-11-19T07:59:00.000-08:00

You know that scene in Braveheart where Mel Gibson is like, "They'll never take...our FREEDOM!" and then everybody cheers and goes into battle? Under similar conditions, I would totally join the fight. Except you'd have to change "freedom" to "carbohydrates."

Freedom is nice -- don't get me wrong. But can you douse it in tomato sauce and twirl it around your fork? I didn't think so.

Imagine a world without carbohydrates. Without pizza and cold beer, friendships would wither. No lollipops in the doc's office? A whole generation would go un-vaccinated. And forget going to the movies; honestly, what's the point without the snacks? Birthdays, holidays, Happy Hour -- these are mere excuses to eat cupcakes, Bundt cakes, champagne cakes. Pot stickers. French fries. In the culinary world, "fun" is spelled C-A-R-B.

Can you tell I'm hungry?

For the past week, I've been curbing my carb intake. A combination of health, strength and weight-loss goals have led me to conclude that my healthy obsession with pasta, toast, and corn chips at every meal may not be so "healthy" after all. No, I haven't eliminated them entirely (what do you think I am, masochistic?); the only rule is, if I'm going to eat carbs, I have to eat them in the hour after I work out.

(My layperson understanding of why: your body needs carbohydrates after you exert yourself, and whatever "bad effects" carbs usually have, in terms of turning to fat, are negated because after a workout your body is still in fat-burning mode. This especially applies if you've really exerted yourself with high-intensity intervals or something similar -- which I've been doing, miserable and red-faced.)

It hasn't been an easy transition. There are no support groups for Carboholics, no twelve-step program, no sympathy cards for the loss of a loved bread.

But on my uphill journey I've learned that, with every loss, comes a victory: I have, for example, mastered the art of preparing eggs, salads, and protein shakes -- which, given my level of culinary skill (which, on a scale of 1 to 10, is "Can Boil Pasta") are praise-worthy accomplishments. I've learned that "kale" can be steamed, baked, or eaten raw; that carrots taste better when you buy them with the green stuff still attached; that you can basically put anything in an omelet.

And, truth is, working out has actually gotten to be way more fun: after the jump-squats, pull-ups, and kettlebell swings, my final exercise is usually to conquer a heaping plate of spaghetti.

Bring it on!

--FLR

A brief book review: "One Day" by David Nicholls

2011-11-18T21:22:00.000-08:00

One Day by David Nicholls

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

Where do I begin? This book is breathtaking, a profound representation of life, tragic and weird and unpredictable as it is. Nicholls chronicles two characters' intertwining journeys with such attention to detail, character, and emotion that I was staggered by its realism. A brilliant character study (of both its main characters, and even the ancillary players -- with spot-on dialogue), the prose is artful, whimsical, hilarious, and spontaneous. His chosen structure of zooming in on one particular date across two or so decades was genius, for several reasons. Many of these dates were not milestones; instead, they were markers of the mundane -- of life's "betweenness" -- times between great triumph, loss -- illustrations of transition, angst, and often confusion. In my opinion, this contributed to the book's profundity, slaying tragedy, and, again, its ability to capture "life." Read this book. You will be changed.

--FLR

Update 12.22.11: There are spoilers in the comments section! Be warned! (And sorry.)

Pub Day: the morning after

2011-10-21T15:11:00.000-07:00

When we last left off, I confessed to living a double life: in self-publishing my book Unnaturally Green, I tried to appear (without lying outright) as if I had a publishing house backing me.

This past Friday, October 14 marked my book's official release day -- the day of consummation -- when all I'd been planning came to fruition in one, long, passion-filled night. Sales boomed. Nuns wept. I think I even saw a rainbow, even though it was night. I went to bed clutching my freshly bound paperback copy of Unnaturally Green.

The next morning, we rose together from the tangled sheets, to peer at each other. "Who ARE you?" I thought as I stared at my book, "and what have we done?"

One week later, here are my reflections -- on how one glorious evening turned into a full-on, committed relationship. And what I would have done differently.

1. Pre-ordering has its merits, but presents challenges. Because my print distribution channel (CreateSpace) does not offer pre-ordering, I managed the process myself through PayPal. On October 6, I shipped signed copies of Unnaturally Green to around 150 readers -- and several have still not received them. To save on shipping costs, I opted for the media mail rate from the USPS. In hindsight, I should have charged more for shipping and gotten tracking numbers. In the end, I'll have to send out 6-10 more copies to the people who didn't get theirs -- thus losing the money I saved originally on shipping.

2. BookBaby (my e-book distributor) kind of sucks. Quick E-book 101: If you're self-publishing your book as an e-book, you have to convert it. You can opt to crunch your manuscript word doc into one of the e-readable formats yourself, or you can hire somebody to do it. For around $100 bucks, BookBaby will do it for you and submit your e-book to Kindle, Nook, iBooks, and Sony Reader. Then, as they assure you, they won't take any royalties from your sales.

For me, a newbie author, this deal sounded like a win-win. But here's the fine print.

First off, BookBaby not taking any royalties from your sales isn't really that big a deal -- since the companies to which they farm out your book compensate by taking a bigger cut (Kindle, Nook, etc.). So you end up netting the same amount that you would have if you'd gone to those companies directly.

Secondly, after the conversion, it's a pain in the ass to make changes. Once I submitted my manuscript, I found seven typos. In order to change those typos, I had to pay BookBaby $50. Granted, I probably should have proofread more closely to begin with. But this fee wouldn't have applied had I used a site that let me do the conversion myself.

Thirdly, BookBaby effed up my release day. On each BookBaby member dashboard, you can specify the earliest date on which to make your e-book available -- which, long ago, I set to October 14, 2011. BookBaby assured me that this was, indeed, the *earliest* date my book would be available (I even sent an email to customer service to confirm). Imagine my surprise when I got emails from fans telling me my book was already available on Kindle -- nearly three weeks early! When I called BookBaby's customer service about this, I was told, "Oh yeah, the date applies to all distributors except Amazon Kindle." Hm. Wish I'd been told that. If I'd known, I would not have enabled my Kindle sales channel so early.

Fourthly, BookBaby doesn't report your sales as they happen (there is a 60-day delay), so it's impossible to know how my e-book is doing. I can see its Kindle rankings (it topped the Amazon Broadway & Musicals and Theater charts this past weekend, and was #57 in all memoirs), but I'll have to twiddle my thumbs to get sales reports.

In contrast, CreateSpace (my print-on-demand distributor, Amazon's company) reports sales as they happen. So it kind of feels like BookBaby is withholding information, or something...even though I know better?

In short, BookBaby very much feels like an unhelpful middleman -- very opaque, creating hurdles where there should be none.

3. After release day (the one-night stand), there's a whole lot of work to be done (the relationship). In the past week, I've realized that October 14 was only the beginning; now the real work begins! Since then, I've been fielding emails from readers, corresponding with book bloggers, sending out press releases, updating my various websites to reflect ongoing internet buzz...My sense is that returns will be directly proportional to work input. But at what cost?

Since I'm recording an audio book and writing a companion booklet to Unnaturally Green, I want to be sure to keep going with my project(s). In the past seven days, this has proved nearly impossible. From now on, I will have to make even more of an effort to juggle past and future projects.

In conclusion, self-publishing is a ton of work, and the work is ongoing. Just as the countdown to publication was a learning curve, so shall the learning continue, for the many months ahead. I'll keep you posted! Hopefully I will emerge only partly, as opposed to wholly, insane.

Peace out!
--FLR

How to self-publish (and seem like you're not)

2011-10-02T21:35:00.000-07:00

[as featured on The Huffington Post]

Writing is a lot like lying. You weave stories that aren’t true and ask people to believe them. So I thought it apropos to market my self-published book around one giant fallacy: that it wasn’t self-published.

Let me ~~absolve~~ explain myself.

It all started with a question: Could a self-published author (I wondered) have the best of both worlds? The freedom to evolve a book “brand,” interact with readers directly, and control every aspect of the creative process—while still endowing that brand with a sense that it was a huge, group effort, with lots of (monetary) support from its editors, PR-people, and other mysterious higher-ups who make the literary world go round?

Given my book’s topic, straddling both worlds made sense. On the one hand, Unnaturally Green is intensely personal. It’s about my time understudying the lead role in Wicked as my first-ever professional theater gig, while trying to overcome various coming-of-age challenges (love, career, family). I explore this idea of “greenness”—of being unseasoned, incredulous, and generally floundering all over the place. Which very closely describes my inaugural self-publishing experience.

On the other hand, the book has that stamp of my being part of a huge global phenomenon. To me, Unnaturally Green needed to seem of the same world—not endorsed by Wicked, but just as worthy of attention.

Despite my budget ($0) and lack of manpower (just me), the challenge was to create an engaging, immersive experience for potential readers—that was still lovingly homemade.

Quixotic? Yes. Impossible? Nah.

Here is what I did:

1) I set a release date.

Any savvy marketer knows the importance of having everybody mark their calendars. It builds anticipation and gets readers excited.

When self-publishing, however, this kind of temporal exactitude is tricky. If you’re converting your manuscript to an e-book, or printing it through a service like Create Space (I did both), the vagaries of just how long that process will take make it difficult to stipulate a date on which you can say, “It’s ready.” So what did I do?

I guessed. Way early in the game.

For this reason, my timeline became much more ~~frenetic~~ accelerated than a conventional publishing house’s. While a typical book deal might go something like: sell the book to a publisher, take a year to work with your editor, release the book; mine looked like: write half the book, declare the release date, have four months to finish and edit. That’s right: on July 19, 2011, I announced that I would publish my book on October 14, 2011. All I had to do was write it.

I completed final edits five weeks prior to go-time, then raced to the finish line like a madwoman—approving proof copies and submitting corrections to my distributors until the last possible moment.

It remains to be seen how well I’ll be able to honor this release date. The book won’t be appearing on bookstore shelves, so October 14 is more symbolic than anything else. Those who pre-order by a certain date (see #2) will receive their copies by the 14th—shipping and handling permitting. Some may get them earlier, some a day or two late. I’ll try to enable my various sales channels (online retailers, e-books through Kindle, Apple, etc.) so that, with their availability lag times of days or weeks, I’ll time it out as best I can.

All in all, my release date is really “(on or around) October 14.” It’s an estimate—but it’s the best I can do, given the constraints.

2) I offered pre-ordering.

I elected Create Space as my print-on-demand service, which means they’ll print and deliver physical copies of Unnaturally Green every time somebody orders one online. However, I was bummed to find that it couldn’t accommodate one very important aspect of the sales timeline: pre-ordering.

But, no matter! I decided to oversee the process myself—offering signed copies to anyone who ordered theirs before October 4.

To do this, I gauged initial interest through my mailing list (see #4), estimated how many copies to buy in bulk, and had them shipped to my house. I set up a checkout process through PayPal, and took care of shipping and handling myself.

Admittedly, this was a bit of a headache, and, due to high shipping costs, I could only allow pre-ordering in the U.S. But, on the plus side, I was able to recoup all of my up-front publishing costs in one week, while guaranteeing proactive readers that they’d get their copies as soon as possible.

3) I formed my own industry (and spoke in the plural first person).

Without a support system, I built my own. Several of my closest friends happened to be accomplished writers with editing experience. Two of them assisted me in three rounds of editing, while a third friend performed meticulous copyedits. (It ended up costing me a couple of hundred bucks—but was worth it.)

Meanwhile, with my small but dedicated team assembled, I took the liberty to start using “we” instead of “I” when corresponding with potential readers. Example (email exchange):

Potential Reader: “Do you know if the book will be available in Australia?”

Me: “Hey there! Not entirely sure, but we’re working hard to enable all possible international sales channels!”

No need to shatter my Australian friend’s expectations and reveal that it was just me in sweatpants at my computer, typing away at 3 AM, frantically scouring Amazon.com for their international shipping policy.

As the weeks pressed on, I (we) took this and ran with it, (“We’re working hard to…” “We’re excited to announce…” “We hope you like this latest excerpt…”), and nobody was any the wiser.

4) I generated buzz.

As soon as I announced Unnaturally Green online, I created a series of interconnected online resources, interfaces, and opportunities for fans to get involved.

These included, (1) a mailing list, (2) a book website, (3) an author blog, (4) an integrated Facebook fan page, (5) an Unnaturally Green writing contest (“Share your story of a time you felt green; winner(s) get signed copies!”), (6) a book cover poll (“Vote for your favorite cover design!”), (7) an active Twitter account, (8) controlled release of various excerpts, in which fans had to recommend my book to a friend in order to read them, (9) related YouTube videos, including singing tips on how to belt Wicked songs.

5) I filmed a book trailer.

Apparently, books these days have trailers, even though most of the time said trailers make no sense. Luckily, my brother is a cinematographer. Together we came up with this (totally random, quasi-professional-looking) book trailer:

At the end of the day, I would recommend my self-publish-and-seem-not-self-published approach to any author who has lots of creative interests, likes to have control over his or her brand, and feels masochistic excitement at the thought of being completely overwhelmed all the time.

Sally forth!

--FLR

How singers stay healthy (or, attack of the neti pot)

2011-09-30T16:56:00.000-07:00

In my book Unnaturally Green, I describe my daily vocal health regimen. In the video below you'll see a sample of some of the specifics. Most notably, I shove a neti pot up my nose and demonstrate how it works (video journalism at its finest). Hope it's helpful!

I am STRONG!

2011-09-23T08:16:00.000-07:00

Dudes. Normally, I despise working out.

See, no matter what I do, my body stays the same. It's a good enough body. Healthy, muscular, a little hefty in the belly region. I've done the exercise DVD thing. Pilates. Aerobics classes. During each of my fitness "kicks" I definitely do start to feel better (i.e. I cease to be winded when climbing 1-2 flights of stairs).

But I always ask myself, where are the visible results?

Thanks to the guidance of fitness guru Marshall Roy (who, ahem, happens to be my boyfriend) (and who, ahem, also happens to be a main character in my book) (and who, ahem, happens to have cheese-grater abs), I have recently started lifting HEAVY WEIGHTS.

Like, 141 pounds heavy weights. And getting heavier.

My new philosophy: time to quit joking around.

For whatever reason, I was born strong. I have healthy bones and an athletic build. Frankly, I'm done with measly little dumbbells that weigh less than the cumulative amount of food I eat in one day. I needed to take the body I was given and challenge that body.

I was born strong. It's not a curse, it's a blessing. But one that also means I need to work harder.

From my recent heavy-lifting exploits, I've realized that the threshold of what I believed to be actual effort needs to be raised much higher. In my defense, I'd never been challenged in the way heavy weights (or body-weight moves, like pull-ups or push-ups) seem to challenge me now. In everybody's defense, how are you to know what you're capable of, unless you try?

And with little over two weeks under my belt, not only am I starting to feel stronger, I'm starting to look stronger as well.

To an anonymous bully

2011-08-13T09:01:00.000-07:00

So, you're a bully. My condolences.

I'm guessing you have a good reason, though. Most likely a gaping hole in your heart. Some people paint pictures, some start families, some volunteer at hospitals. Some try to bring others down.

Maybe, like the Grinch, your heart is two sizes too small.

Maybe something else is two sizes too small.

Whatever the case, Mr. Bully, I'm onto you. You're a theater man, it seems, having constructed the sets, costumes, and storyline of your power. You surround yourself with eager spectators, the quiet supplicants, who suspend all disbelief. "This," they say, "is a Man with Power. This is an Important Man. This is a Man Who Can Squash Me with His Thumb."

But, you're just a man, Mr. Bully. With a lowercase m.

On the other side of the proscenium, after the curtain falls, you're of below average height and have normal-sized thumbs. I suppose you have money, to keep these theatrics going. But I've seen you perform, and I find it tiring. I'd like to meet you instead in the stark light of day, where vague threats have no power. Where the overhang of your wrath and doom has no currency. Where you see me for me, and I see you for you.

Are you scared? I'll bet you are. After all, behind every bully is a coward.

What are you afraid of, I wonder? That I'll someday have power over you? In case you haven't heard, power is nothing. It's nowhere, except in the imagination of the people you try to control.

You can't control me. So? Poof! Power is gone.

What now?

I, myself, recommend strength. Strength you can't fake. Strength you can't use to manipulate others. Strength is here. Strength is enduring.

Strength stands up against bullies.

--FLR

RIP Amy Winehouse

2011-07-24T17:27:00.000-07:00

Belated post to bid farewell to Amy Winehouse, who passed away yesterday at the untimely age of 27. It was she who uttered the words that first inspired this blog's title:

"I'm not a one-trick pony. I'm at least a five-trick pony."

From one five-trick pony to the other: goodbye, Ms. Winehouse! Your music kicks ass, and you will be sorely missed.

--FLR

Summer in New York City

2011-07-11T06:45:00.000-07:00

Ask yourself.

Is it a regular occurrence that your armpit sweat actually drips onto other people's shoes?

Have you ever wiped your brow with office supply paper?

Do people ever mistake you for having taken a swim, when really you've walked three blocks down a city street?

If any of these apply, then you, like me, are spending your Summer in New York City.

This year marks my third Summer in the city that never sleeps or breaks in humidity. I missed out last June through August since Summer in San Francisco is grey, rainy, cold, and unsupportive of rompers or other lingerie-inspired attire.

I was sad to miss out last year, because I do like Summer here. It is a great equalizer, as it makes everyone miserable and forces you to embrace that misery. It also forces you to redo your wardrobe entirely. And by "redo your wardrobe" I mean "stop wearing clothes altogether," venturing out into public in the following fabrics only:

1. Mesh

As for spending time indoors?

Every Summer, I go through the same thing -- an internal war between taking action and being lazy, which I mistake for my showing strength and perseverance. I'm talking, of course, about waiting until the last possible moment to install my air conditioner. In my early days of subletting in Brooklyn, then living with a Craigslist roommate in Queens, I showed real strength of character, and could get through to August before buckling. Every morning I'd wake in my normal bed turned sweat water bed and think, "You really are something, Fel." This achievement somehow made up for my failure of a love life, professional uncertainties, and fact that I ate most meals from a can.

This year, the dilemma remains, but the circumstances have changed. I am living with my perfect boyfriend, I am happy with where my career is headed, my diet consists only of some canned foods, and -- as far as air conditioning goes -- I'm halfway there. We already have one in the bedroom, old and rickety and asbestos-laden as it is. But our apartment is a long railroad, so the sun-drenched kitchen and living room remain torture chamber versions of saunas where hope and hydration go to die.

But my boyfriend and I have just recently talked, and we've decided it's high time to take the next step.

That's right: we're getting a second air conditioner.

Soon.

Until then, I'll be the one wearing mesh and sweating on your espadrilles.

--FLR

It's true: I don't know how to write a book.

2011-06-15T06:45:00.000-07:00

A professional writer is an amateur who didn't quit. --Richard Bach

Here is a reenactment of that time nine months ago when I decided to write a book:

Me (interior monologue): Hey, I think I want to write a book.

Me (also interior monologue): Oh, cool. Do you know how to write a book?

Me (still interior monologue): Not really. But I know how to write...stuff.

Me (la la la): Great. So. Write a book then.

Me (out loud): Okay.

Person Standing Next to Me in the Elevator: What?

Me: Nothing.

Why do I share this highly fictionalized anecdote with you? Well, the crux of the truth is there, which is that: I hear voices in my head. Only kidding. Which is to say: when I first decided to pen my debut memoir, Unnaturally Green, I had absolutely no idea how to do it. But still. I knew I wanted to do it. So I just...went for it.

Indeed, putting the cart before the horse is my fave thing to do. Because, when it comes to writing, there really is no other way. You have to believe you can do something, even though you have no idea how to actually do it.

Like many other artistic endeavors, long-form writing is very mysterious. How does it work, you might wonder. What is the actual process supposed to be like? How do you know if you're doing it "right?"

The most disconcerting part of asking these questions, my young aspiring writer-readers, is that you won't know the answers until you get out there and just do it. I mean, Nike knew what was up. Because there really are no rules. No instruction manual. Just my thoughts and the blank page. Just do it.

For me, I've enjoyed giving you all an insider glimpse into the process. I've enjoyed using my blogs and mailing list to create a forum through which I can share what I'm working on, get feedback, and keep readers engaged. It's been said that every writer should have his or her audience in mind. Hearing from you, testing the waters, putting my writing (strengths and weaknesses) on display -- this has helped reinforce just how important my audience is. Not only will you be the ones reading the finished product, but you're the ones motivating me along the way!

So, thank you for your involvement and interest! I promise I'll do my best :)

In summary, here is a picture of me* right now.

*This is not actually me, as is evidenced by the long brown hair and questionable scrunchie. But still, the spirit is there.

Well. Time to go write.

It's really freaking hard.

But not impossible. No, definitely not.

--FR

To the Class of 2011 (of which we are all members!)

2011-05-23T13:13:00.000-07:00

I don't know what's gotten into me, really. Why I've become nostalgic, grasping for carefree-er times.

Maybe it's something about this year's spring. The flowering trees, the torrential downpours -- the sweet and the terrifying, mixed together. Maybe it's because my little bebbe of a sister is shedding her high-school skin and enrolling in Northwestern's Class of 2015. (Remember, back in the 90s, when 2015 sounded like the most futuristic date ever? Aaaah my sister is an old alien what is happening...)

Maybe it's because we all just narrowly dodged the wrath of the End of Days (I don't know about you, but my risen, bodiless spirit is typing this from heaven right now. I'm assuming you've all made it as well? Of course you did. My readers are nothing if not virtuous.)

Maybe it's because every day is a graduation. Be it college or high school, when you stride across the stage, and proudly clutch your diploma, a part of you may think, "Hey, I've made it." But it is has only just begun! -- the first of daily endings slash beginnings that comprise your strange and undulating life.

On that uber-saptastic note, here are my five tips for the High School Class of 2011, which is excerpted from a larger piece I'm writing as a graduation present to my little sister, the Young Ricci, entitled "What Nobody Told Me Before I Went to College: A Ballertastic Manual for Ballertastic Individuals." Or something like that.

Five Tips for College Freshman

1. Invest in powerful laundry detergent. No matter what you think, someone will vomit on your bed.

2. When you first arrive, it will seem like everyone knows more than you. They won't. Or, even if they do, it'll be okay, because it won't matter! Honestly? Who cares about the coursebook, the protocol for dropping courses, applying for pass/fail, or other nuts and bolts of academia? Follow your heart! The rest will follow! Or you'll just get suspended or whatever.

3. You will probably start doing one or several of the following things: drinking coffee and/or alcohol, thinking about and/or having sex, reading boring publications like "The Economist," getting no sleep, eating 5,000 calories a day, pretending to know what a U.S. Senator does, acting like you speak French when really you don't. In all cases, be safe, my friend! Don't do anything I wouldn't do. Er--don't do anything you wouldn't want printed in your personal newspaper of life. Because even if an action seems like a liner note, it could turn out to be a headline.

4. Get some exercise! When I first came to college the idea of freely and willingly going to the gym when it wasn't a direct punishment for some terrible offense was the most foreign and perplexing concept I had ever encountered. But by my junior year, 15 or some odd pounds convinced me it was time to take the plunge. And I'm glad I did!

5. DO NOT BRING TOO MUCH STUFF. Repeat: DO NOT BRING TOO MUCH STUFF. If you do, move-out day will be a bitch and a half, and you'll say, "I wish I'd listened to Felicia." I get it, though. You'll obviously want to impress your new classmates, and so will have grand schemes of adorning your dorm room with shabby chic decor, and of looking fabulous day in and day out, even at your 8AM class. But, believe me: after, like, a week of school, you will not care! Also, your roommate will directly sabotage any and all of your attempts to make your environment liveable. But it will be alright! Because you will mostly be wearing sweatpants! And everything feels great in sweatpants! For these reasons, I advise you to pack, like, one pair of pants, and three shirts. Everything else you'll buy at the campus bookstore, or you'll find on the streets when wandering home at 4AM.

Questions? Comments? Suggestions? Shoot me a comment!
--FR

Here's to the End of Days!

2011-05-20T18:18:00.000-07:00

I encourage you all to do this:

Dear Certain Subway Riders (An Open Letter),

2011-04-30T11:06:00.000-07:00

I can understand why you might want to take the subway. It's fast and moves underground, like those weird-faced snake monsters from the Kevin Bacon movie Tremors. Plus, despite the frequent delays and reroutings, on certain days it works like magic. Like those times when you spend the entire morning reading on the toilet and, by all accounts, are an hour behind, then somehow the stars (and trains) align to take you to your destination not just on time, but minutes early! Planes, automobiles, time machines, Jason Statham -- nothing could deliver such miraculous transport!

Whatever your reason for riding the subway, I don't care. If you are like most of the people I encounter there, you are doing it badly. Here is why.

(I shall now address a few letter recipients directly.)

To the Large Man Serenading Himself to Headphone Music Only He Can Hear,

Sir, please stop this. While I fully respect and laud a man who can appreciate a good Whitney Houston ballad, you are in a public space, not your shower. And, if you can believe it, headphones are tiny speakers that only you can hear. Crazy, right? All this time you were hearing a symphonic swell of synth, sax, and drum kit, the rest of us were hearing only the shrill and terrifying sound of your voice. Take your feeble riffing elsewhere.

To the Screaming Baby On My Morning Commute Who Haunts My Dreams,

Hey! I know you're only a baby or whatever, but please consider not crying for the entire half-hour duration of my commute. What are you even doing out and about this early? I didn't think babies had 9 to 5 jobs! We, on the other hand, do -- we, the folks who are covering their ears, massaging their temples, and wishing they had never been born. I know, I know -- it's not your fault! My only request? As soon as you have the capacity to speak, ask your parents, "Parents, why did you bring me on the subway when I was a wee child with lung power that could fell a small tree?" Thank you for your time!

To the Space Cadet Hipster Who Rocks and Sways On the Platform,

First of all, I love your heeled moccasins and spandex capris; you have a great male fashion sense. Second of all, I would like to submit a humble request that you do not carelessly mill about the train platform, unexpectedly lunging forward or back when I'm trying to pass you. People who use the subway to get places, as opposed to for long bouts of reverie, are often trying to walk with purpose. As I'm passing by you near the yellow line, it would be super fun if you paid attention and didn't knock into me, nearly sending me into the tracks below. Also, cool 1970s grandpa glasses!

To Anyone Who Gets On the Subway Car Before Others Get Off,

A fiery pit awaits you. No, I'm not talking about one of my armpits, I'm talking about hell.

In conclusion, I urge you subway riders to read (or have read to you, in the case of the baby) this blog post on one of your many buzzing mobile devices, whose media sounds and alerts you have no doubt left on, at their fullest volume, for everyone else on the subway to hear and enjoy.

Sincerely,
Felicia Lisbeth Ricci

So. This happened.

2011-04-13T19:32:00.000-07:00

When will I learn how to banter in the workplace

2011-04-13T14:52:00.000-07:00

The long-form joke and I are well-acquainted bedfellows. The winding, swirling, no-punchline, create a theme or mood then amuse with unexpected twists and turns (POOPY) joke -- she/he is my friend/bitch. Same goes for its cousin, the non-sequitur. Totally my game. Free-associations that beget strange and unrelated comments, like when a paint color reminds me of the afterlife, or my sushi rolls have personalities, or I point out which celebrities would have to mate to birth one of my friends.

But there is one joke in whose presence I cower, on whose frontier I will forever lag behind the other wagon trailblazer pioneer people: the Workplace Banter.

What IS Workplace Banter? What ISN'T Workplace Banter! It's those completely un-pithy one-liners that are totally benign and essentially just any old sentence in a normal conversation -- but which, for strange and inexplicable reasons, everybody ends up laughing at.

Workplace Banter is at first hard to spot, because it sounds just like a normal sentence. This is because it is a normal sentence, except said in a weird voice. And when it comes to your boss, or anyone prominent or "superior" in the office hierarchy, Workplace Banter can literally be when anyone says anything at all, whether or not it's in a weird voice.

Here, for your edification, are examples of Workplace Banter.

1. "Don't ask me anything until I've had my coffee!"
2. "Sorry, my brain stopped working."
3. Weird-voiced person: "Does not compute."
4. Boss: "Hi!"

Bear in mind that all of these statements would traditionally be followed by hysterical laughter.

Also bear in mind that this is universal Workplace Banter. I work in a real-life office right now, but I have also worked in theater, and the same exact rules apply, if you can believe it. Same rules, with a few notable theater-specific additions:

5. Person after they've done something really easy, like move a chair: "That's why they pay me the big bucks!"
6. Any person during rehearsal or performances: "We're going to Broadway!"
7. Person, yelling: "Belt your face!"
8. Sarcastic person who has to move one prop or carry scenery: "But...what's my motivation?"

In summary, Workplace Banter is everywhere. You cannot stop it. And if you want to succeed, you'd better learn how to do it!*

--FR

*Alternatively, you can just blog about it and stubbornly not engage, like some ashamed career floater slash outcast. What is "success," anyway?

My book thinks it's a person!

2011-04-04T16:55:00.001-07:00

And it needs friends! >

I admit it! I'm cheating on this blog with my old blog!

2011-03-31T12:14:00.000-07:00

It's time I came clean: I have officially restarted my old, WICKED-centric blog UNNATURALLY GREEN, and have been posting once, twice, sometimes THREE TIMES a week! I know, I know.

How could I?

FIVE-TRICK PONY followers, I still love you. But I have unfinished business with my old blog.We have a...history. You understand?

And I will still post here! All the time! Honest!

And, in the meantime, if you can withstand the inevitable sting of jealousy, check out the latest UNNATURALLY GREEN post, "Shameless sap and ANNOUNCEMENT!"

Hey, my book has a website!

2011-03-26T11:00:00.000-07:00

Check this out and try not to pee your pants because those pants are dry clean only!

http://www.FeliciasUntitledWickedMemoir.com

(It's uses flash, so you won't be able to view it on your mobile device or any manner of iTabletThing. Only old-fashioned computers. So antiquated.)

The "Learn More" page includes a contact form for you to sign up for my mailing list. No spamming here -- just periodic updates on the book's official title (to be revealed soon...), its release date, how to order advanced or signed copies, and how you can get involved in spreading the Wicked-memoir love across this great wide earth.

Hooray! Getting psyched for this, everybody!
--FR

SECRET POST!

2011-03-24T17:14:00.000-07:00

KNOCK KNOCK.

WHO'S THERE?

A WICKED MEMOIR BY FELICIA RICCI

A WICKED MEMOIR BY FELICIA RICCI WHO?

COMING SUMMER 2011.

(Tell your friends. And stay tuned. And eat your vegetables.)

It feels good to say "no"

2011-03-24T17:03:00.000-07:00

In the past week, I have forged new professional ground.

I have said "no."

That's right! I, Felicia Lisbeth Five-Trick Pony Ricci, have just turned down three concerts and two plays. And I feel really bleeping good about it.

No, (<--there it is again!) I'm not writing this to instigate an indulgent, communal ego-stroking, wherein everybody who reads this "oohs" and "aahs" at how popular I am, then writes about it in the comments (although I cannot stop you!).

On the contrary, I wish merely to recount the extremely novel, somewhat surreal, experience of drawing a hard line. And sticking to it.

Setting boundaries can be hard for an actor. The theater industry is designed in the opposite way. Many people believe that if you want to make it in the biz, you'd better be prepared to do anything and everything people ask of you (within reason, you sicko!). So if you're an actor on a mission, primed and ready to make a splash, it's in your best interest to get involved as much as you can, cultivating professional relationships, honing your craft through new, unpublished work, and, well, saying "yes" to everything and anything. This can be a wonderful and exciting practice.

But for those of us who are unsure...who need to examine the road signs before continuing down what they thought was the right path...

"No" is a beautiful word indeed.

SORT-OF FORMER ACTRESS / EVOLVING HUMAN TAKES OFFICE JOB WHILE WRITING BOOK, LIVES TO TELL TALE (SO FAR)

2011-03-09T09:04:00.000-08:00

Here are some of the day-to-day benefits to working in an office.

FREE PENS.
If anyone speaks, they do so in low, soothing tones.
It is customary to wear clothes that need not be geared toward

Rigorous movement or dance
Concealing pit stains
Showing off ones “assets”

If I wake up with phlegm in my throat, THAT’S OKAY.
If I arrive a few minutes late, THAT’S OKAY.
I can eat and not worry about the timing of subsequent bodily functions. (Oh yes, I went there.) (And yes, that’s something you have to consider when working in the theater.)

Here are some downsides to working in an office.

I am required to more or less stay put in the building, even when I’m not particularly needed.*
Unlike my prior experiences with the unbridled, persistent gregariousness of nearly every actor I’ve ever encountered, it is not a matter of course that one’s coworkers introduce themselves or even speak.**
Brunch has become a competitive sport, as I no longer have the special privilege – sometimes curse – of being free when everyone else is busy; instead, I must submit to the workweek / weekend dichotomy. Gone are those solitary week days, when I used to scour the lonely streets for companionship, wander into various places of business, and wile away my idle hours at an empty movie theater, pondering what exactly it was I was doing with my life, where I was going to find my next paycheck, and why the weekly cost of concessions add up to nearly half of my unemployment insurance.

STAY TUNED FOR MORE!

*Upside: …during which time I can compile inane lists, like this one.
*Also: slightly reminiscent of my standby stint, no?
**Although, this is oftentimes a good thing. As a point of contrast, I would, if I had the capabilities, submit to you one of several live actor-subjects I’ve encountered at various auditions, to whom a mute individual would be, in many cases, preferable.

WTF!

2011-02-24T19:37:00.000-08:00

This post is called "WTF!" because that is definitely what you are thinking.

First of all, you're like WTF! Why has it been a month since Felicia has written?! Second of all, you're like, WTF is this post?! Why is it so cray-cray? Third of all, you're like, WTF is Felicia doing with herself? She's, like, dropped off the face of the earth! Fourth of all, you're like, WTF in general! WTF is going on here?!

I'll tell you WTF is going on.

It is a new era, my friends. A new era of adventure and confusion and triumph and fear and loathing in Las Vegas. And, you guessed it, a new era of saying "WTF" like all day long.

I've lately made a bunch of big decisions. Nothing too earth-shattering. I mean, all of my anatomy remains unchanged (I think?). Just career-wise. I'm stepping up my game and moving more toward full-time writing, as opposed to full-time acting.

I know, I know! You're probably like, WTF?! Because that is what this post is called, and also because what I just said probably made you think that. But, fear not. I'm just embracing my creativity in a different way. I'm currently employed full-time as a copywriter, and it's a pretty sweet gig. Meanwhile, I'm writing a memoir. Yep. You heard me. A memoir. (Cue: "WTF!") But more on this soon. I wanted first to put that out there and make you all be like "WTF?!" before I shoved the details down your throat at a later date. Just know that, professionally, I'm shifting my focus (for now), while in the meantime I'll continue to make musical theater mischief on YouTube, in the streets, in your dreams, in your mom's dreams, and just continue to be a weirdo in general.

In summary, it is my duty to embrace my FIVE-TRICK PONY nature...which is to explore, challenge, question, forge new and exciting paths...

...and to make things up as I go.

Honestly? It's kind of really freaking fun. And also kind of makes me be like -- you guessed it -- WTF.

--FR

Dr. Stripper

2011-01-27T18:25:00.000-08:00

I didn't want to mention it, but here I go. Tomorrow, I shall play Candy the Stripper in a staged reading at Theater Row. Candy, I've decided, is stripping her way through med school. That's not anywhere in the script, it's just something that helps me through the day.

Wanna hear my favorite lyric from the show?

"Mr. Hot Dog Man, come as soon as you can / I need a little meat in my roll."

Sarcasm.

Do you know what's funny about being a stripper? It actually feels like you're a stripper. There's no discernible difference. We're actually not doing anything racy that involves any nudity, so it's not like I'm super exposed or anything. But it's weird how if you're asked to "pretend" to get down and dirty, it's actually like getting down and dirty. The frame of it being a "performance" doesn't make it any less revealing.

In other words: pretending to strip in a play feels a lot like stripping for real. Because that is what you're doing. Because, like, plays are supposed to be, like, real. That's what acting is, man.

This post brought to you by Obvious: Making Obvious Things Obvious Since Forever, Obviously.

Also brought to you by: Felicia Is Low On Blog Material.

--FR

P.S. Here's what I'm thinking for my next post: "How Not To Stay In Shape." Thoughts? Seriously, though.

Rehearsal for Real-Life, Real-Life Rehearsal

2011-01-22T07:43:00.000-08:00

Today's is a food for thought-type post.

To all you working actors out there: Before performing professionally in NYC (or beyond), in your amateur days did you ever suspect you were merely "rehearsing" for an eventual "real-life" theater experience--one that would be vastly different in its professionalism?

I had this feeling.

But, friends, one of the biggest industry insider tidbits I can give you is this: At its core, the professional rehearsal process doesn't feel much different than any other rehearsal processes. "Real-life rehearsals" (i.e. for "real," professional theater) feel remarkably similar to what I used to think of as "rehearsals for real-life" (i.e. summer camp, college, amateur theater).

The rules might be stricter, and the stakes much higher, but in general, past is prologue; the same qualities that will make you excel in amateur theater will make you excel in professional theater. The same pitfalls apply as well. Sure, while things may "matter" more, no magical fairy dust gets blown onto the work environment to suddenly make it strange and unfamiliar.

(I'm speaking mainly of the professional rehearsal process for smaller shows. With huge, long-running Broadway musicals (like "Wicked," for instance) this rule doesn't really hold up. Everything gets insane when you're working on something like that... But those are the rare exceptions. And you can still make do...)

In any event, my advice to aspiring actors is to practice, practice, practice, do theater whenever you can, and pay attention to the here and now. This is what being an actor feels like. Don't think of working in the theater as some remote and unfamiliar concept; you're living the dream right now! If you like it, keep going.

If not--grad school, anyone?

--FR

Getting Started in the Biz of Show

2011-01-06T18:52:00.000-08:00

Oftentimes, aspiring actor-folk email me with nuts-and-boltsy questions about Showbiz. The main trend I see is that young performers are curious about the process of getting started. How, they ask, do you go from complete newcomer to employed NYC actor?

Thusly, I present to you, Felicia's Quick Rundown of How This Shiz Works, with accompanying photo of Felicia doing jazz hands.

1. "I want to be an actor!"

Cool! Here is what you can do. You can A) Go to college for it, B) Go to college for something other than theater (like me), C) Skip college and go straight to the city!

A) Going to college for theater. Upsides: Four years of training. If your college program knows what's up, at the end of these four years you will have the opportunity to perform in a showcase. A showcase is what it sounds like: the chance for you, along with your classmates, to showcase your best stuff (singing/acting/dancing). Again, if your college program is reputable, your showcase will attract most of the Top Dogs in NYC casting and artist representation (i.e. casting directors and agents). Downsides: You might have other academic interests and would prefer a more diversified, liberal artsy university experience (versus an actor/singer/dancer training program, like those taught at a conservatory or colleges with theater/musical theater programs).

B) Going to college, but majoring in something besides theater, like economics, or the Native American Diaspora. Upsides: Four years of academic exploration! You can do theater on the side, extracurricularly, and in addition to your major. This is what I did. I was an English major because academically I was most interested in literature and writing. I did, however, take acting classes at my college and did a ton of student-run productions (probably close to thirty or forty in four years!). Downsides: Piecemeal theater training (if any), no senior showcase to get your foot in the door with NYC's Top Dogs.

C) Skip college and go straight to the city! Upsides: Skipping the appetizer, going straight for the entree! Some say that the earlier you start, the better a chance you have of making an impression on the casting powers-that-be, and the more jobs you can book by the time you're in your actorly prime, which for most is in their 20s and 30s. Also, you can concoct your own training regimen right here in the city, with a combination of dance/voice/acting lessons and educational reading. Downsides: You're so young! Are you sure this is what you want to do? Isn't it best to dabble in some other interests? The risk for feeling overwhelmed is high.

2."I want to be seen at auditions!"

Cool! Find auditions online, then show up, and/or submit your headshot and résumé to the casting peeps over the internetz! You need to try your darndest to go to auditions. Before doing so, you need: a (great) headshot and résumé, some audition material (perhaps a filing cabinet would help?), which will comprise your audition "book" (binder of songs you can sing with ease, at any moment), which you bring with you to every audition. The sites that have the most fruitful audition listings are Playbill.com, ActorsAccess.com, Backstage.com. It would also be good if you made a personal actor site with your headshot/resume/bio/pics/media/otherfunstuff. It's good for self-marketing. Also: business cards. Fun.

Unfortunately, at this juncture you might get discouraged; it seems like a lot of the awesome auditions (Broadway, National Tours, reputable regional theaters) are for Equity performers only (the Actor's union), and you would indeed be correct. You have two options: 1) You can go to the open Equity calls as a non-Equity performer and wait all day to maybe be seen (this requires you getting there über-early and being segregated to the Actors Equity Association building's hallway, forbidden to use the bathroom (not kidding!)), an experience I would DEFINITELY NOT recommend. Some non-Equity people seem to have luck with going to Equity open calls, but of all the ones I went to as a non-Equity performer, here is the total number of times I was seen: 0. (Conversely, there are open calls specifically for non-Equity productions, in which case, by all means, get in line and be seen; the day will be long, but at least it won't be fruitless.) 2) You can just be like, "Screw you, huge awesome Equity auditions! I'm gonna stick to non-Equity productions I will actually be given the chance to audition for, and then I will gain valuable acting experience -- all the while networking, gaining exposure in the city -- and then perhaps I will one day catch the eye of an agent! (More on this soon.)

3. "I want to perform a lot!"

Great! You totes should (as explained above). Keep in touch with friends, go to see their shows, sing in their concerts, audition all you can. In other words, keep yourself occupied while you're in non-Equity limbo trying to find an agent and/or get your Equity card. This will help you gain exposure and network! Networking, by the way, is a fancy word for "living your life," all the while being a good citizen and acting nice to others. This is the way to "network": be nice to people, say "yes" to doing projects you like with peers you respect, and be an asset to have around.

4. "I want an agent!"

Geeze, hypothetical actor person, you're so needy. JK. You will find an agent someday, do not worry. Maybe, just maybe, during your performance adventures, you will meet somebody who has an agent, and then he/she will offer to refer you to them! Maybe, just maybe, that agent will come see their client in your show, and then he/she will think you're a baller as well! And, if all else fails, you can try this site: www.actorsconnection.com, which provides classes and networking opportunities with casting directors and agents. Basically, you have to pay to be seen by the Top Dogs. But the good news in this scenario is that you are actually seen by the Top Dogs. (Tip: Before you pay to do a networking event, ask your actor friends for audition coach recommendations so you can be coached into tip-top shape.) Last resort for landing an agent is sending out headshots/résumés to their offices, and/or emailing them. This is rarely fruitful-- HOWEVER, I landed my first agent my emailing her. The main way I got her hooked is I included a link to a YouTube video of me performing a ton of roles in college.
Pretty cray-cray, I know.

5. "I want to book a show!"

Awesome! Keep auditioning, performing, singing in concerts/workshops, getting your name out there, and you will (eventually) get an agent. Then you and your agent will together find audition opportunities for you, and then, one day, if you work hard and are pretty good at what you do, you will book a show! Yay!

What a happy ending!

So, that's the basic rundown. I hope it's helpful to some of you! And to those of you who didn't enjoy it, well, I don't care!

Sincerely,
FR

An Outrageous Sequel Medley

2011-01-02T12:06:00.000-08:00

In August 2010, my li'l sis and I presented an outrageous thirty-eight song medley using no papers or notes -- only our tired memories. This, my friends, is its outrageous sequel.

Filmed in one take (again, with no notes), it picks up where Medley 1 left off ("Valjean's Soliloquy" Les Misérables) and ends with a triumphant homage to our collective youth.

Or, better yet, ends -- for now. Because in a world of outrageous medleys, every ending is a new beginning...

Enjoy!
--FR

Top 5 Practical Gifts For Your Actor Friends

2010-12-14T21:49:00.000-08:00

Wanna show your actor friend you care? Get them a thing!

How about I lend you a helping hand? Because, let's face it, actors are hard to buy for. We're moody and outlandish, and we gesticulate a lot.

Five-Trick Pony's list eschews conventional, some might even say thoughtful, recommendations (like Sondheim's Finishing the Hat, or sheet music, or theater tickets) and gets back to the bare essentials. Presenting,

TOP 5 PRACTICAL GIFTS FOR YOUR ACTOR FRIENDS.

GIFT IDEA #1: Scarf.

The gist: Simple, fashionable.
Why: Unique accent pieces like a toadstool scarf (at right) help your actor friend draw attention to himself, which provides a fleeting sense of self-worth. Also, they protect vocal cords.
But Remember: Every actor owns hundreds of scarves, so it's important to stay on the cutting edge of fashion. If he doesn't like it or you give him something he already has, just tell him it's a belt, or a prop.
Verdict: Perfect gift at an affordable price.

GIFT IDEA #2: Hot Guys and Baby Animals 2011 Calendar.

The gist: Hot guys and baby animals help you know what the date is.
Why: My boyfriend is featured in this calendar as the month of February. He is shirtless and holding a goat (I am not joking -- see right). And if there's one thing I've learned from working in theater, it's that pictures of my shirtless boyfriend can bridge any social gap. Regardless of race, religion, or voice part, people love to look at a hot dude, and then they all become friends. The United Nations should employ this tactic when negotiating with hostile countries.
But Remember: A small percentage of your actor friends might be straight males, in which case, you should reconsider buying this gift.
Verdict: Much better than the Hot Animals, Baby Guys 2011 Calendar.

GIFT IDEA #3: Money.

The gist: Easy, no wrapping required.
Why: If your friend is an actor, he is probably unemployed. If he is unemployed, he probably needs money. If he needs money, he probably wants it as a gift.
But Remember: You can't pretend to have spent more money on your money than the amount that's written on the actual money.
Verdict: You really can't go wrong here, except if you give out Sacagawea coins, which are heavy and comical.

GIFT IDEA #4: Double-stick tape.

The gist: Countless uses, hours of fun.
Why: The complete list of double-stick tape's practical applications would take me days to transcribe, so I'll simply list the most relevant: 1) Affixing headshots to the backs of résumés, 2) Sticking Twilight posters onto your ceiling, 3) Taming your assets in low-cut apparel, 4) Pinning up photobooth prints and/or Polaroids to your shabby-chic full-length mirror. Also, lends itself to a whole host of puns in the accompanying gift card, i.e. "Let's stick together!" "I'm stuck on you!" "We're double the trouble!" "Sorry I leaked your sex tape!"
But Remember: You run the risk of giving too good a gift.
Verdict: Don't think, just buy.

And, finally...

GIFT IDEA #5: Clinical Strength Deodorant.

The gist: Keeps you dry under pressure.
Why: Actors are sweaty beasts (I know from personal experience) and there's nothing worse than trying to impress an audition panel while you're crying from your pits. This gift helps prevent NWL (Net Water Loss), a dangerous armpit-sweat side effect.
(Water Bottle Input – Pit Sweat Output = Net Water Loss
if Pit Sweat Output > Water Bottle Input.) Plus, hardcore deodorant has all kinds of chemicals that shorten life expectancy, which means that after your actor friend reaches an uncastable age, he will suffer through fewer years of self-loathing and regret.
But remember: No one, especially an actor, wants to admit to using this. Be discreet!
Verdict: Life-changing, but be sure to hide this gift inside another gift.

And that concludes this year's list. Now, go be a good little consumer! Disperse!

And do add your own suggestions to the comments section.
--FR

Trinity Youth Shelter benefit recap!

2010-12-09T16:28:00.000-08:00

Blogoriffic Blogfriends!

This past Sunday I had the pleasure of performing in a benefit for Trinity Place, the GLBTQ youth shelter, alongside Shoshana Bean, Joey Taranto, Carrie Manolakos, Donna Vivino, Scott Alan, Neil Davis, Breedlove, SIRPAUL, Joe Hubrich, and my special friend and life-mate Libby Servais. The event was hosted by the brilliant Bianca Del Rio, who as a drag queen is much more attractive than I'll ever hope to be.

It was a rollicking, heartfelt evening, which is no surprise, given that it was organized from start to glittery finish by the inimitable Rob Harmon, who is a kickass makeup artist / general guru (I know Rob because he painted me green for a week when I was doing Wicked (he was the one who said on good authority that I was the sweatiest Elphaba to date)).

To kick off the event, Libby and I sang "I Will Never Leave You," a throwback to our Wicked standby days, when we literally never left each other's side, and then we hosted the first live auction of the night (of which there were many more throughout the evening). Um, live auctions are so much fun. It's the one instance in which the forces of peer pressure can be wielded for good!

Of course it was a treat to be able to watch the other performances, and I also got to reunite with several of my former Wicked castmates, many of whom were in attendance. What's more, I got a chance to talk to Shoshana Bean! She's the first gal I ever saw perform the role of Elphaba, so naturally I was starstruck. I don't entirely remember the details of our interaction, but I have a vague recollection of telling her, "I follow you on Twitter." There are some instances in which I can parlay my awkwardness into charisma; this wasn't one of those instances. She was exceedingly gracious, nevertheless.

Wanna see some photos from the night? Check out BroadwayWorld.com here and Playbill.com here.

Okay that's all for now! Bye!
--FR

It's December! Get in the holiday spirit!

2010-12-01T07:00:00.000-08:00

After you lovingly erect your very own Charlie Brown Christmas tree (which they actually sell at Kmart), watch this outrageous movie, courtesy of my friend Martin Landry. We met when we performed together in -- of all things -- a Chanukah Musical Review.

Watch this. And watch me cry.

2010-11-29T06:57:00.001-08:00

http://www.xtranormal.com/watch/7776407/

Yale cares about what I have to say!

2010-11-27T18:16:00.000-08:00

In a recent inexplicable turn of events, Yale University, my beloved alma mater, has invited me to come speak to its students about what it's like to be a real person!

More specifically: the university's Undergraduate Career Services is assembling a panel of alumni to expound on what it's like to forge a career in the arts. I'm not sure who else is going, although I do know that my dear friend Sam Carner, lyricist extraordinaire, will be in attendance.

So, if you happen to be moseying around Yale's campus in New Haven this Thursday, December 2 between 6-8pm, stop by Linsley-Chittenden, Room 211, and watch me mold young milds!

Yes: this is what I like to see on Playbill.com

2010-11-20T10:31:00.000-08:00

Check out this hilarious Playbill.com photo diary by Jeff Hiller and Greg Hildreth of Broadway's Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson. (Fun fact: I worked with Jeff briefly on the Rosenblum and Lessner piece Garbo and Me, but I literally had two lines and doubt he remembers me, although he was a lovely fellow. Hi, Jeff!)

How to write an email when you're self-submitting.

2010-11-18T16:19:00.000-08:00

(Warning: This post's title is misleading. It should actually read, "How NOT to write an email when you're self-submitting.")

If you're interested in getting work as a performer, chances are you're familiar with the sites Playbill.com, Backstage.com, and actorsaccess.com. In a stormy sea of online sketchiness (think Craigslist ads and the like), the aforementioned websites act as beacons of (sometimes-)legitimacy, providing opportunities for actors to submit their headshots and resumes to casting directors and everyday chums looking for free labor.

But, Felicia, asketh you, don't you have an agent? Isn't the agent's job to submit for you? Right you are. They are indeed submitting me for roles, which is an ongoing process. But for actors who are not represented (i.e. me when I first got to NYC) or who are looking to dabble in non-paid projects (i.e. me right now with respect to on-screen acting, something outside my comfort zone, that my agents might not yet be looking to foist on me) there's no harm in self-submitting.

Personally, I am at war with myself when it comes to submitting casting "cover letters" (i.e. emails). At first, I did my best to be all legitimate-like, what with my respectful salutation, my succinct and self-promoting description of prior experience, and my general sense of professionalism. I even bolded the most salient details, like a typographically conscious super nerd! Lately, however, out of acute boredom, I have tried to make my emails more interesting.

Why, here is one example. This is an email I sent out, just today. (Reminder: Do not do this.)

"Please, against many odds, consider me for your film.

I am hardworking but easygoing. I've dabbled in film, but most of my time has been eaten up by musical theater. I know that this is often a red flag for filmmakers, but I promise you I'm not your typical, bug-eyed, gape-at-the-camera kind of chick. Plus I can sing and stuff, which is fun. Resume and headshot attached. My hair is longer now! At the very least, I hope this email has amused you in some small way.

Sincerely,
Felicia Ricci"

And here's another:

"Please consider me for the role of Ms. Edythe Herbert -- not least of all because I can spell the character's name correctly.

Sincerely,
Felicia Ricci"

True stories.

Okay, and here is my last tip for you: forget everything you just read and never speak of it again.

--FR

We all might be out of a job

2010-11-14T07:31:00.000-08:00

Also I find this director's perception of the role of an actor to be, well...suspect.

Reading List Recommendation: A DREAM OF PASSION

2010-11-09T09:31:00.000-08:00

I've titled this post a "Reading List Recommendation" as if that's a thing I do -- recommend books for some exclusive Five-Trick Pony Book Club or something (move over, Oprah!) -- because it gives the illusion that there's continuity and purpose to my blog.

But seriously, the book I'm going to recommend is a must-read for aspiring actor-folk who are serious about improving their craft and who (like me) have struggled to understand and focus their ongoing practice.

The book is called A DREAM OF PASSION and is written by Lee Strasberg, eminent teacher/actor/director/theoretician. You might know him from the highly revered Actor's Studio in New York City (although he is not to be confused with James Lipton, the bearded dude who interviews famous people in front of an audience of actor-students, and asks for literal answers to rhetorical questions, like, "Up....or down?" (FYI: Lee Strasberg is deceased, James Lipton is not)).

Anyway. Per the recommendation of my acting coach, I have just now finished A DREAM OF PASSION and have found it wonderfully affirming. If you've ever struggled to articulate or conceptualize the process of finding out who you are as an actor -- your weaknesses, your goals, your impetus for improving -- this book is like a warm bath filled with epsom salt wisdom, gooey bath pearls of encouragement, and floating rose petals of clarity and direction. While much of its prose is technical and/or historical, I found myself smiling throughout the read, stumbling upon countless "aha!" moments, as Strasberg crystallizes questions I've long struggled to put into words, and, in the most clear, detailed and ordered manner, deconstructs the oft-referenced but rarely understood "Method."

In summary: he teaches yous guys how to act good.

If you've read A DREAM OF PASSION, feel free to submit comments below... And if you haven't read it: read it!

Enjoy!
--FR

Upcoming gigs

2010-11-08T18:52:00.000-08:00

Here are some upcoming NYC performances that you might be interested to check out! I haven't rehearsed any material, so in each instance I can promise one thing only: that I will be there in the flesh trying desperately to win your approval and admiration.

What: I will be performing the role of Lydia Languish in a reading of Rivals, a new musical by Jonathan Breit and Greg Edwards
When: November 20 & 21, 8PM
Where: Shetler Studios, Penthouse 1 (I think...), at 244 W 54th St, 12th Floor
Who: Me and some other people TBA!
Why I don't know more details: I've only just learned about this, but will be receiving more info soon!

What: I will be singing fun songz in IS THIS SEAT TAKEN?: THE MUSIC OF CODY OWEN STINE
When: December 9, 9:30PM
Where: The Laurie Beechman Theater at 407 W. 42nd Street
Who: Raymond Bokhour (of Broadway's CHICAGO), Amanda Ryan Paige (ZANNA, DON'T!), Felicia Ricci (THAT'S ME!), Kurt Robbins (THOROUGHLY MODERN MILLIE nat'l tour), and more to be announced soon, perform the music of Cody Owen Stine.

What: A new comedy web series
When: Soon
Where: Online
Who: Me playing somebody funny
How: Filming throughout November
Why: Because it's FUN! OBVS!

Darryl is a Boy (And He Made Me Sweat A Lot)

2010-10-28T14:07:00.000-07:00

Bambini! It's been so long. Not really, it's been a week and a day. In this post I shall recount for you my first official post-Wicked-post-return-to-NYC, mid-existential-unemployment-haze gig.

I find that many who enjoy acting in plays or musicals but are reluctant to pursue it as a career share a common desire for stability and control. These kind, unassuming folk (and may God bless them for their sanity) feel that, when there's enough rehearsal and preparation time, theater is a happy fun time of love, truth and beauty. But there's gotta be plenty of time to get comfortable with the material before delivering it to an audience.

The ensuing story will help illustrate how 95% of professional theater work is nothing like this.

So, if you're like me -- which is to say, an actor who is, ahem, between theater contracts -- nay, even if you happen to be in a production contract -- you might get asked to do a number of gigs outside of your job (or lack thereof) usually as a favor to a writerly friend who wants to showcase his or her new work. These gigs run the gambit from performing in classrooms in jeans and a t-shirt, reading the score from a binder, to dressing up all fancy-pants and delivering memorized songs in a concert setting -- songs which you've presumably worked on with a director or coach and have polished within a few reasonable inches of perfect.

Even trickier: when you say, "Yes, I'll perform in your gig," you often don't know what exactly you're getting yourself into until, oh, say, the day of the performance.

You want me to give you an example? Okay:

Some of you may have know the song "Darryl Is A Boy (And He Lives In My Closet)." I sang this song about a year ago in a concert and, because everything was sort of last minute, I had a lyric sheet to guide me through the performance. It was fun and low pressure, and went off pretty well. But it gets zanier.

Fast forward to present day, mid-October. The composer of the song, Michael Mitnick, asks me to perform "Darryl" again at a showcase of composers that are signed with William Morris Endeavor agency. Cool. I've never met Michael, but he's seen my YouTube, thinks the song suits me, and asks me for the favor. I am happy to oblige! It'll be totes chill, I think. No biggie. I've done this song before. I'll just do it again for some friendly composer folk.

Fast forward to day of the gig, October 25. I roll up to Playwright's Horizons (which, in understatement world, is kind of a well-known venue). That should have been a clue right there, but I am determined to trick myself that the gig isn't a big deal. I haven't rehearsed the song yet so I am scheduled to run it with the pianist during a 3-3:30pm sound check. (Gig is at 6pm.)

3pm no pianist. 3:15pm no pianist. 3:25 pianist arrives. We have five minutes to run the song.

The fact that we have such little time is, in and of itself, intimidating. Add this to the fact that the man directing the concert turns out to be Lonny Price, a legendary Broadway actor/director/writer and general awesome dudesome, who is at the rehearsal to watch and critique. Gulp. Okay, I run the song. I, um, sort of have it memorized? Basically. So I keep a lyric-sheet security blanket on a nearby music stand, and glance down only a couple of times. Okay great, says Lonny. But then, in consultation with Michael, he changes one of the lyrics. Gulp. I get some more notes about the diction and rhyme scheme but -- yep, we're out of time.

The intimidation factor keeps mounting. After sound check I chat more with Mr. Mitnick about what tonight's event is all about. Huh...it turns out that this showcase of new composers -- organized by arguably the most reputable and influential talent and literary agency in the world -- is going to be performed for THE MOST REPUTABLE AND INFLUENTIAL PEOPLE IN THE THEATER INDUSTRY. Yep: producers, investors, directors, and all them other folk whose names appear above the titles on theater posters. THOSE ARE THE PEOPLE I'M GOING TO BE SINGING FOR. I'M SO NERVOUS MY THOUGHT-SENTENCES END IN PREPOSITIONS.

Needless to say, I start sweating a lot, and not just because I am a raging Italian.

For the sake of Blog Drama, I wish this story had a truly awful ending, but, the truth is, after I sweated my brains out anticipating some terrible and violent conclusion involving me, razor-lined tomatoes, and a theater full of booing Broadway producers, it all went off quite well. Indeed, there was more intimidation to be had when I saw who else was performing (think Jenn Colella, Stephanie D'Abruzzo, Carrie Manolakos, to name a few), but it all ended up being quite a fun romp through brand-new-musical-theater land.

Indeed, even as the performance was upon us, there were still some unknown factors to be dealt with, like, who should move the music stands, or the microphones, when and where to enter and exit...but it all got worked out. You just have to pretend you're 100% confident and comfortable with what's going on. That, my friends, is acting.

Let me also say that I blame no one but myself for my copious sweating: the burden of preparation was on me, and it probably would have done me good to put more time into practicing the song several days before. But, yeah, I assumed the event was low pressure. And, it's like that age-old saying about what happens when you assume: you get really large pit-stains from anxiety.

So let that be a lesson to you all.

But, then again, it went well in the end, so maybe the real lesson is: just act like you know what you're doing and you'll be fine.

Also, don't do drugs.

--FR

Bus. Guilt. Weakness. Opposites.

2010-10-20T21:01:00.000-07:00

Taking a little retreat from the big city for a few days. I had this plan to write like five blog posts on the bus, but there was a weird med student sitting diagonally behind me who would not stop murmuring into his cell phone and I got distracted. Murmuring is pretty much a million times worse than loud talking. It is the human-voice equivalent of mosquito buzzing. What sad-sack person had that much time to talk to Dr. Murmur? Unless the person on the other end was also riding on a bus, I have no idea who would be willing to participate in such senselessness.

Okay, here are some more random facts about my life that may or may not lead to further explanation in future blog posts:

1. I feel EXTREMELY GUILTY that I haven't written back to the last batch of 15 or so fans who wrote to me in the final month of Wicked. It's, like, getting to be ridiculous. It's one of those situations where the longer I wait, the more ashamed I get, and the more desperate I am to do something insane and monumental in my replies to compensate for the time lapse -- like cut off my ear and mail it, or something. Too bad I don't have fifteen ears. Or do I.

2. I started using those weight-lifting machines in the gym. It's fun, but also impossible. It's been so long since I've used them. Turns out my upper back is extremely weak and can't, like, even move 2 pounds. I know: riveting news. But maybe this little tidbit will beget a longer post one day in which I shall expound on the perils of staying in shape as an actress (BAHAHAHAHA! AS IF I KNOW WHAT THAT'S LIKE!).

3. Acting for TV/Film is cray-cray. Last week's post was not an exaggeration: if you're being filmed, you literally should never try to act. Never try to do anything. Ever. More specifically, I found this little nugget emblematic of the theater/screen acting dichotomy:

When acting onstage in a play, an iron-clad rule is that you must "act on the line." In other words, if you have an objective and are performing some sort of action, you must use the verbal line to convey it. Don't sigh, or huff, or giggle, or do some sort of weird wavey gesture to convey what you mean, and then say the line. Instead, infuse the line with whatever sentiment the sigh/huff/etc was meant to convey.

Screen acting, however, is the exact opposite. It is, apparently, rarely, if ever, about what's written on the page. The words don't matter. It's all in how you frame them, visually, and how the actor couches the words in his or her behavior, i.e. a glance, or a pause, or an exhale, etc.

Theater = Verbal. Film = Behavioral. Tell your friends!

There are, of course, many other distinctions between the two. More on this in later posts. (I think this is pretty interesting, don't you?!)

4. I'm singing "Daryl Is A Boy (And He Lives In My Closet)" this Monday at 6PM at Playwright's Horizons! I don't know any of the details about this gig, except that it's cool. But if it's open to the public, I will def post more info!

Unicorns!
--FR

I started taking film/TV acting lessons

2010-10-14T19:38:00.000-07:00

I think this video best summarizes the philosophy behind on-screen acting. Just substitute "act" for "surf."

Lots of FeliciaRicci.com Updates!

2010-10-12T07:57:00.000-07:00

I exist on many planes of the internetosphere, one of which is FeliciaRicci.com, my official homepage. I am pleased to announce that, after hours of toil and sweat, it has undergone a facelift that would make even Joan Rivers jealous.

Behold! My Official Homepage: updated!

Updates include: new homepage layout, an extended bio, a photos by fans page, among other little tweaks.

If you'd like to submit your fan photo to appear on FeliciaRicci.com (and, I'm not gonna lie, the main prerequisite for your being considered is that I don't look horrendous), visit my Facebook Fan Page, become a member, and add your contribution! It will automatically appear on Facebook, but I'll periodically transfer a few to FeliciaRicci.com.

Hope you like the updates! If not, well, that's your problem.

--FR

On The Audition (capitalized)

2010-10-11T07:01:00.000-07:00

Last week I polled the audience about what I should sing at an upcoming audition. In true Felicia fashion, I abandoned all logic and decided to do something entirely different.

But this post is not about that, it's about the terrifying beast we call The Audition. And I'm going to capitalize it right there to make it intimidating.

Auditions stink. This much we know. But, in my opinion, the key to retaining sanity while being an ALE (Actor Looking for Employment (that's not an official acronym, I made it up)) is to cultivate a regard for auditions that straddles enthusiasm and apathy.

Why? One should be enthusiastic when it comes to preparations. Meaning: do the best you can. Given the time and resource limitations, this doesn't always mean you can memorize your audition sides, hire a private coach and learn a host of new music perfectly. But it means you can strive to do something like it. And, depending on the project and how excited you are about it, you can work hard to fall somewhere within the prepared-to-super-prepared end of the spectrum.

But -- and here's where the apathy part comes in -- actors go on a ton of auditions. To put all your actorly eggs in one audition basket more often than not leads to disappointment. So it's best to maintain a healthy emotional distance when going in for an initial audition, but then to rally the troops when it's time for a callback. At least that's my take on it.

(What's a callback? Callback comes after the audition. You're called back in to get a second (or third, or fourth, or fifth) look because the creative team sees potential in you.)

So, in order to maintain a healthy emotional distance, I've decided not to disclose the details of last week's audition. Because, whatevs, it was just an audition (<-- apathy, Figure A). I did the best I could -- given my limitations. I didn't hear anything back but, here's the fun part: a lot of times you'll audition, nothing will happen, but later on down the line something new and cool will come of it (<-- residual enthusiasm, Figure B).

In truth, part of my staying mum is out of superstition... maybe if I leave it alone, it will boomerang back to me later on? I'm playing hard to get with the Universe.

--FR

Evil links that I do not endorse but shall nevertheless relay to you, out of journalistic impartiality

2010-10-05T19:05:00.000-07:00

Big news: I've decided to quit being insane and actually utilize the "label" functionality provided by Blogger, something I have heretofore eschewed as nonsense and used only in a nonsensical fashion (like by labeling my articles as "wiping my nose" or "I am a baby").

I would thus like to introduce to you the "resource" label, something which will be applied to all posts that might be (you guessed it) a resource -- i.e. helpful to youngsters (or oldsters, who am I to judge) and up-and-coming actorly folk who want to learn about the nuts-and-bolts of showbiz. Yesterday's post, for example ("Some of your questions, answered.") expounded on some terms that a few of my readers had asked me to clarify. Thus, it has been labeled a "resource" at the bottom of its text. NEAT-O! I will eventually cull these articles from the rest of the blog, post them onto a single page, and make them available as an easy-to-access link on the sidebar of Five-Trick Pony's homepage. In the meantime, simply click on the "resource" label wherever you see it, and Blogger will automatically bring forward all articles labeled thusly. In the span of one paragraph, I have used "thus" or some derivation thereof three times, not including this sentence. I feel ashamed, and exhilarated.

(Admittedly, I probably won't be able to contain myself and will still contribute a smattering of nonsensical labels, so you'll have to look out for them. It will be like Where's Waldo, except much easier and less fun, and when you find the labels, they won't resemble every man I ever dated from high school through college.)

Anyway. The post you are reading now is labeled as a "resource," because I'm going to provide you with something illegal (and AWESOME), that happens to be a -- say it with me -- "RESOURCE."

On the record: free sheet music is evil and terrible and kills baby seals and deprives writers of their due compensation. And is free. And awesome.

So in case I get in trouble for posting links to free sheet music sites (WHICH I'M NOT) I'm going to hyperlink-ify text, and you, my little detectives, must figure out what's on the other end.

Click here for pictures of Tom Selleck horseback riding.
Sign up for potato-throwing lessons from Elizabeth Taylor.

Thank me later.

--FR

Some of your questions, answered.

2010-10-04T12:47:00.000-07:00

Q: What's a talent agent?

A: A talent agent finds auditions for their actor-clients by speaking directly with casting directors and/or accessing online breakdown services that publish audition information. He/she fields and filters audition requirements to the actor (i.e. date, time, what to prepare) and then negotiates the actor's contract should he/she book the job. An actor can either freelance with an agent (which means he/she does not need to work with them exclusively) or sign with an agency (agency = bunch of agents; this means the actor works with this agency exclusively; contract length varies, but usually begins as one year). Agents are paid when their clients book jobs, receiving a percentage of the actor's weekly salary.

Q: What's a secret agent?

A: A secret agent is someone who wears well-tailored clothes, carries gadgets, speaks in spy-talk (i.e. "transmitting intel in T minus oh-eight hours"), and fights evil organizations.

Q: What's a casting director?

A: A casting director works for a casting company and seeks out actors for various auditions. They are hired by production teams looking to cast a new or ongoing project. In most cases, the casting director does the initial screening of the actor candidates, then recommends, or calls back, actors whom he/she feels the production team should take a look at. Their expertise is manifold: not only must they have a thorough handle on the material for which they are casting, but they must also be highly perceptive in determining the best types of people to "fit" the role. Additionally, they must dip into their ken of experience and knowledge of working actors when determining who to call in for the audition. In short: talent agents (see above) submit their clients to casting directors; casting directors decide whom to let in the gate.

Q: What's a cruise director?

A: A cruise director does stuff like stage sing-alongs at midnight buffets. Somebody like this guy. And God have mercy on their pitiful, seafaring souls.

--FR

Help! I have an audition!

2010-10-02T20:51:00.000-07:00

One of the recurring dilemmas an actor faces when presented with a new audition opportunity is: should she sing something she already knows that is entirely unsuitable for the audition, given the subject matter of the show she's auditioning for, or should she learn a new song in the span of a few days and risk messing up the lyrics and sounding like rubbish?

Hypothetical* scenario: I have an audition this Tuesday. I'm supposed to prepare 32 bars of a pop song and bring my Diti Boo, in case they want to hear more. Hold on, you say, what's 32 bars? 32 bars of chocolate? No, silly reader, it's 32 measures of music, which usually times out to be a verse and chorus, or a chorus and a bridge. What's a bridge, you say? A structure that holds up cars over water? No, silly reader, it's a card game.

Anyway, I currently have two options for the pop song: Kelly Clarkson or Kelly Clarkson. Which do you think? Or if you have any other non-Clarksonian suggestions, comment below. Trying to find a song that shows off some belting. Or don't comment below, because I'll secretly feel really foolish for polling the audience for audition song ideas. (But maybe comment below.)

*Scenario is not hypothetical.

--FR

I signed with Henderson Hogan!

2010-10-02T20:47:00.000-07:00

Great news: I just signed with Henderson Hogan talent agency! They now represent me in the fields of theater, film and television. I am beyond ecstatic, as Henderson Hogan has been in business over 40 years and is extremely respected by its peers.

I have a feeling this is prologue to many more exciting adventures.

If not, to keep this blog entertaining, I shall resort to lying. You have my word.

--FR

Time Wasting 101: Adventures in Photoshop

2010-09-28T18:44:00.000-07:00

My new apartment is borderline monastic and has a ton of white wall space. My boyfriend Marshall and I are highly economical (instead of going to the laundromat I wash my clothes on his abs (quit groaning, you love my jokes)) so instead of buying overpriced faux-silk screens of weird monochromatic abstractions at Ikea, I've decided to design some of our wall decor using my favoritest of computer programs, Adobe Photoshop.

Marshall has a special fondness for Alton Brown, the host of Good Eats on the Food Network, and it's totally okay, because my boyfriend's metro like that. The following image is inspired by that iconic Barack Obama Hope Poster (you know the one), and supplants "hope" with Brown's catchphrase:

The only kink in the plan is apparently it costs upwards of $50 to actually have the darn thing printed, so our new and improved plan is to change "patience" to "utilitarianism," translate everything into Swedish, turn every color cobalt blue, and sell it to Ikea as a monochromatic abstraction.

Hey, wanna see some other Photoshop projects I've completed in the recent past? Too bad, I'm showing you.

Most of them were made as gifts for my boyfriend's brother Dave, because, as I said, Marshall and I are cheap. I mean economical. The first one is not that exciting, it's just Dave's face on Indiana Jones:

This one is pretty self-explanatory. Clearly, when someone graduates, the obvious conclusion to draw is that they are like Iron Man:

And my personal favorite, albeit the least successful:

The lesson today, boys and girls, is that even if you're unemployed in your chosen profession, it doesn't hurt to fine-tune other peripheral skill-sets, even if those skill-sets are absolutely worthless, because then you won't have to buy presents for anyone.

In other news, today I wore a purple dress with fringe on the bottom and then saw the exact same dress featured on That 70s Show during a roller disco scene. It was bracing reality check that made me realize I seriously need to redo my wardrobe. To do so, I'm going to enlist the help of my journalist/fashionista best friend from growing up, and you guessed it, I'm going to blog about the whole experience. It's going to be like an episode of "What Not To Wear" except no one is going to be a terrible human. Stay tuned, mis amigos pequeños.

--FR

Hey, look, I'm more organized than you, want to cry about it?

2010-09-27T20:51:00.000-07:00

Unless you're actually living the life of Adrien Grenier on Entourage and have someone named Turtle to drive you places and order New York pizza for delivery to Los Angeles via private jet (I'm pretty sure this actually happened in one of the episodes I saw during one of my bouts of extreme masochism), as an actor you are your own CEO, marketing team, fitness and lifestyle coach, secretary, bookkeeper, wardrobe consultant, and everything else under the sun.

But, let's face it -- and I'm totally going to stereotype here -- nine times out of ten, telling an actor to run his/her own business is like asking a fish to fly, a bird to swim, an ivy league student not to be antisocial, Glenn Beck to be reasonable (I could go on, but let's try and keep it on topic, Felicia, alright? Alright.).

The point is: we actors -- we're sensitive, alright? We live the art! How do you expect us to keep our real-life affairs in order? To cross our Ts and dot our Is when we are too busy working to embody their alphanumeric spirits?

Two words: FILING CABINET. Get one. It will change your life.

I don't want to brag here, but I will. I am awesome at filing stuff. When you're an unemployed actor questioning the meaning of her existence and finding even the most inconsequential setbacks totally life-altering in the most devastating sense imaginable (and I'm just speaking hypothetically here), what could be a better way to stay grounded than by putting things in alphabetical order? Answer: Nothing.

More specifically, I use my filing cabinet to hold all of my sheet music photocopies. Over the years I've amassed a butt-ton of sheet music, and when I'm not using it to kindle trash-can fires on the breadline, I'm doing my best to assemble a pleasing variety of songs and excerpts for my Audition Book -- or, as I like to call it, my Diti Boo. What's a Diti Boo? Well, for starters, it's the weirdest and most misleading truncation possible for "Audition Book." More concretely, it is exactly what it sounds like: a collection of songs and excerpts that you bring to auditions, all of which you should be able to sing at the drop of a hat, or, better, after you've pick up that person's hat and handed it to them out of common courtesy.

Behold! Photos of my filing cabinet! Songs arranged alphabetically by show! AAAH IT'S SO MUCH FUN! EVERYBODY WHO WANTS TO BE COOL START DOING THIS NOW.

YOU CAN EVEN FILE YOUR HEADSHOTS OMG LIFE-CHANGING!

In short, I feel better about my future because I have a filing cabinet.

--FR

Yep, it happened. I moved to Blogger.

2010-09-26T18:59:00.001-07:00

Hi, again, friends. It’s been a busy first 24 hours for Five-Trick Pony (or as I’ve nicknamed it: “Blog 2: Hyperblog”) and already she’s found herself a new home (that’s right, my blog is female). As you could have probably guessed based on my thinly veiled hostility, I just wasn’t digging Tumblr. Blogger is better. The end.

So, let it be here writ: Five-Trick Pony’s new web address is http://fivetrickpony.blogspot.com. Sorry for the confusion! But, hey, I told you this blog was unpredictable.

—FR

Presenting: Stupid Texts With My Male Friend, Episode 1

2010-09-26T18:35:00.001-07:00

Me: Happy birthday? If I'm right, I didn't even need facebook to remind me

Male Friend: You're right!!! Thanks! Where u at now?

Me: I'm in brooklyn eating a bagel. You??

Male Friend: Amazing. I'm starving myself so I look good for birthday pictures tonight. That, and I think I have a hernia.

Me: Omg I love hernias

Male Friend: I think I might just grab some icy hot and lather it up with one of my $100 bills and rub it all over me. That should totally cure my ails.

Me: That is what I do! And what my mother does, and her mother did before her.

Male Friend: Well, clearly your story goes on.

Me: H8 that song. So are you 40 years-old today

Male Friend: Basically

Me: You've got a few more years in you I'm sure

Male Friend: Yeah. 52 today.

Me: Soon you can collect social security and wear hawaiian shirts in earnest

Male Friend: Fo shizzle

Back to Square Two: An Unceremonious Start

2010-09-26T18:34:00.000-07:00

[Posted on 9.25.10, before Felicia came to her senses and moved Five-Trick Pony to its current home on Blogger.]

Going to squeak out my first post here and keep expectations low. Mostly because I’m exhausted from spending the last million days trying to understand how in the heck Tumblr works and why it is missng its secnd vowl.

If you’re like 99.52% of the population, you probably don’t know who I am, which is good and bad. Good if you’re the type who hates to get involved, because you can X out of this page right now, and neither of us will be any the wiser. Bad if you’d like to keep reading and know some preliminary context. In the case of the latter, it might behoove you to read some posts from my last blog, Unnaturally Green, and learn about where I was before my lapse into New York City obscurity.

In short: I just got done standing by for the role of Elphaba in the San Francisco company of Wicked. I laughed, I cried, I looked like this:

But now that’s all kaput. I’m back in New York City, “back to square two,” as it were: I’ve got to figure out how to be a job-seeking actress again. Because if playing the lead in Wicked is one side of the acting coin, unemployment is the other.

Why on earth should you read my blog? You probably shouldn’t. You probably should concern yourself with more pressing matters, like making paper from oatmeal or building ships in bottles. But, if you’re the type who has always wanted to know the nitty-gritty of what it’s like to build a career in the entertainment industry, from someone (me) who has just gotten her feet wet, this blog is for you. Content will (hopefully) be farther-reaching than the more clichéd actorly musings (“OMG I hate auditioning OMG!” “I sang my Face off today, gtg”), sprinkled with reflections on the art, the hardships, the triumph, and the irony of Showbiz. And other stuff.

I am, after all, full of tricks. At least five.

Now, being unemployed, and after having done something as huge as Wicked, I kind of feel like one of those genius twelve year-old kids with a PhD — you know those kids? They can solve the riddles of the universe but they can’t, like, use an ATM or drive. Except I’m not a genius and we’re not talking about grad school, we’re talking about Wicked, which I guess I’ve graduated from, and now I have no use for an ATM because I’m unemployed, plus I take the subway. Okay, bad analogy.

I do expect that many adventures await, but I can’t make any promises. I always think it’s a bit quixotic to begin a blog, because the assumption is that some fascinating storyline will develop that will be worth reading, and that doesn’t always happen. But what I can promise you is that if my plot lines get too mundane or depressing I’ll just make something up, like that I found my long-lost twin or that I’m David Blaine’s intern.

Thanks for reading so far! If you become my follower I’ll give you a virtual hug, which I decided is me thinking that I’m hugging you and you sensing this thought remotely. Bye!
—FR