The theatre was mostly quiet, save for the whispered conversations among a few actors on the stage. Each performer stared out into the audience, where a solitary individual sat, a hard expression on her face. The rehearsal had just ended and the troupe waited in anticipation for her to give her notes.
I was one of those actors on the stage, part of my high school theatre department. By this time I was a senior, but I had been acting since 9th grade (officially). Some might say I had been acting and performing my entire life up to that point.
[Sidebar]
Theatre was great for me. Although I had been getting up in front of people for many years prior to my freshman year (mainly through public speaking competitions), there was something about acting that really helped me in my life off the stage.
I learned how to think on my feet,
how to listen to others,
how to be more confident in social situations,
how to better convey my own thoughts.
And the close-knit friendships I formed in that small, 200-seat theatre still mean the world to me (even though we’ve long since gone our separate ways and I lost regular touch with many of them).
I could go on, but I highly encourage everyone to take at least one acting class, even if you’ve never been on stage in your life.
[Back to the story]
We had just finished our run-through of The Miracle Worker. Ms. Bailey leaned forward in her chair and started speaking, critiquing each aspect of the show and each individual performance.
She was a strict, firm drama teacher, and always demanded the very best from her actors. She was quick to raise her voice and correct anyone who didn’t perform up to her standards. Yet she was one of my favorite teachers. She truly cared about her students. I remember sitting in her office many times, talking about life, and she was always willing to pass along some great advice. Despite her stern exterior, she could joke around with the best of us.
When Ms. Bailey finally came around to address my individual performance during that day’s rehearsal, I found myself bristling a little bit. I spoke up in order to defend myself and to tell Ms. Bailey what happened on stage, why it wasn’t my fault, and why I made certain choices.
She stopped me in my tracks, as only Ms. Bailey could.
“When a director is giving notes, just shut up, listen, and take the notes. Don’t interrupt.”
Okay, so her comment didn’t have the eloquence of Shakespeare, and you probably won’t see it printed in a book of poetry, but I can’t tell you how many times in my career I’ve thought about Ms. Bailey and that moment. It’s helped me a lot in my career.
Why?
It wasn’t some earth-shattering event. It didn’t really change the course of my life, but it did inform and guide me.
How?
The problem with any creative field (like video production) is that it’s all subjective. There’s no real right or wrong answer. Everyone has an opinion. I think that’s why my dad likes being an accountant: no gray areas. So when you’ve worked so hard and invested so much mental energy to produce a video, it’s easy to get defensive when a manager, producer, and client don’t like it and start giving you notes.
But remember…
No one likes to hear excuses.
No one likes to work with someone who doesn’t know how to take feedback.
No one likes to work with someone who won’t change his/her position no matter what.
You have to learn to stop your mental wagons from circling the camp in preparation for a counter-attack (as hard as that is). Learn to listen. Take the notes. Reevaluate your work. Find out how you can apply that feedback to make your work even better.
I wish Ms. Bailey knew how much she helped me.