I’m an introvert. A big one. I wouldn’t say I’m shy—actually I’m very talkative around my friends, in one-on-one situations, and around the amazing theater people I’m lucky enough to work with in DC. But put me in a room full of strangers, or even a small setting, and I clam up. I can’t think. I sweat. I don’t know what to say or how to say it. When I do talk, I often say nonsensical things, flip syllables, substitute incorrect words, or draw a blank when I’m trying to think of a descriptive word or movie title or person. Being around new people is mentally and physically exhausting, and far too many gatherings have devolved into me hovering in a corner and missing out on the action.
It’s bad enough to feel so out of control, but when I think about how others must see me, I panic. I probably seem stupid. Or stuck-up. Or unfriendly? Vivid memories of my unbearable middle-school years rush back in—lunches alone in the bathroom, solitary work at the group tables, the constant snickering and bullying… There was nothing about me to mock at that time besides my small, flat body. So I wonder, did I project some type of meanness, when all I was was afraid? Could I have done better if I’d been able to rise above my own terror?
The deeper I get into Playwrightland, the more I worry about how alive my 10-year-old self still is. I thought she had left the building, but every time I step into a networking event or cocktail party, there she is, wiping her palms on my jeans and making me want to run out of the room as soon as possible. I worry because theater is a business of personality and who-you-know and perception, one in which there are many more candidates and hopefuls than there are opportunities. Relationships matter.
So how does someone like me survive? I can’t possibly be the only introverted playwright out there. I’ve read a few blogs and articles, and when copies become available, I’m going to check this book out too. It turns out I’ve already been following the most common advice for introverts: Avoid big group meetings and instead have one-on-one face time with individuals. I enjoy getting together with new people, after work in a bar or something, just to chat. I’ve been asking people out in a slow but steady stream over the past few months, and it’s been lovely to get to talk to people offline and outside of work. Unfortunately, my “dating” has two sustainability problems. First, I will inevitably have to go to large meetings or gatherings at some point in the near future, some of them high-pressure, and I will have to be able to hold my own. Second, by meeting with individuals only, I’m creating a spattering of colleagues as opposed to a cohesive web. Perhaps it’s worth noting that I’ve always been like this: the girl at school who is everywhere and nowhere, who has one or two friends in every clique but no clique of her own. So far, I’ve found this to be the most comfortable and enjoyable way of living, and it’s only been more recently that I’ve started to think it might be a detriment to my career.
The theater world sometimes seems to be one that belongs to the Alphas, but I just can’t believe that there are no successful introverts out there. If you are like me, or just want to offer some advice, please drop me a line.
Glad I follow you on Twitter or I would have missed this post entirely. But as it happens, I’m just back from one such gathering of theater strangers and, though you’d not believe it, I have the same inner ten-year-old traveling with me all the time. One picture from the weekend sums it up. At dinner the first night, Polly Carl (another with the same level of introvertedness and equal ability to mask it) and I found ourselves nervously scanning the room with our dinner plates in hand hoping to find a place for two at a table with people we knew. We didn’t so we retreated to a corner and sat on the floor rather than have to put ourselves through the crucible of introductions. At some point I realized that the rest of the room read that as us being unwilling to sit with the rest of the gathering. We must have looked rude to them. Perhaps it was, actually. But it was what we could do to stay in the room. You also won’t find me backstage after your show or comfortably hanging out with groups of theater colleagues with whom I have no actual relationship. I am extremely uncomfortable in those circumstances. As a coping mechanism I’ve developed the capacity to perform “extrovert” as a character, and few people besides my closest friends and family know that guy isn’t me. Watch closely and you’ll see him at work, though. He’s a big guy, happy host, and something of a Yenta– delightedly introducing people to each other, but you’ll soon notice he can’t stay in any of the conversations and is, at some point, going to make his way back to tending bar or busing tables as the way to stay at the ball… Here’s what I can tell you, from 30 years of dealing with it: in the end, it will be the work you do that people are most connected to and impacted by. Shy? Nervous? Arrogant? Not even present? Irrelevant once people are relating to your work. So keep writing and meeting in small groups and dragging your inner ten-year-old to the events you simply have to go to and rubbing your sweaty hands on your jeans. Eventually you will master it as a part you play so that your work moves in the world.
Thank for this beautiful and encouraging note, David. No, I had no idea! But now that you mention it…yes, the dishwashing at the party…yes. You had me fooled–I remember hearing your big voice at TCG conferences, and I was terrified of you and impressed at the same time. Maybe I can find my own Liz-the-extrovert character. In the meantime, I’m going to keep working hard. Thank you again for taking the time to write.
This is a great post, thanks for writing this. I also have very similar middle school memories (lunches in the bathrooms, just a few friends — people thought I was quite rude, when actually I was just very nervous and scared). I’m actually a very introverted actress – and it has been very difficult for me to deal with. I think people assume actors are all extroverts, but that is so not the case with me — I get shy around groups of people, and basically want to meld into the background at all social events. I get embarrassed if I feel like I’m saying the wrong thing in groups of people. However, it IS possible to network, I have found ways to make it possible. I have found these tips for networking in large groups: always bring a friend with you to serve as your “wingman” – someone you can touch base with throughout the event, so you feel as if you have support. You still have to “work” the room, but you know your buddy is there with you. When you go to an event, go with a specific purpose in mind, for example: “I want to meet this producer because I think he can help develop my play.” Just have a goal of meeting your one or two target people at any given event – so you won’t feel overwhelmed with having to meet everyone, and talk to everyone. Also, I like to keep in mind, that networking is just about revealing yourself and connecting with like-minded people. You want to find people you truly “click” and connect with – because those are the people that will want to work with you (and vice versa). Also, it seems you are doing all the right things: meeting people in ways that are comfortable to you, and developing relationships. I think that is really all that matters. Relationships take time to develop, and I don’t think it really matters how you develop them. I hope this helps! Good luck with everything.
Thank you for the fantastic advice, JM! I miss talking to you, and I’ll definitely work on putting your tips into practice. And yay for introverted actors! I like your quiet-ish nature on stage–it shows a kind of selflessness that serves the material and not the act-tor. There’s a real power in it too. Quiet storms are the best.
Great article, Liz! I am an introvert too (if you didn’t already know it) as is my husband, who struggles to make it as an artist where connections are so important and when he hates going to social events and would rather just stay home. As a stay at home mom it isn’t really a problem, but even though I’m introverted I realize that I really do need people, and have rather surprised myself by taking the initiative to form mother’s groups, throw showers, reach out. Baby steps. I do realize that I will never feel totally comfortable in big groups or sound nearly as eloquent in conversations as I can in writing, but I’m ok with that.
Way to go, Nat! I think it’s really cool that you’re working to get what you need, without comprimising who you are. Thank you for reading, and best of luck to Ryan too. Hope to see you one of these days.
If you haven’t seen this already, watch it:
Nerd: A prepared person who doesn’t give a damn about the dance.
!
I’m honestly not sure where I fall on the intro/extro-vert spectrum. If I’m in a crowd where there are several people with whom I’m comfortable, I’m at ease meeting new people. If it’s a group where I feel uneasy with my “status” (for lack of a better word), I clam up, hover on the edges, and leave early. David has seen this in action, if you don’t believe me. I’ve also gone on a couple of campaigns of meeting people one-on-one, so I vastly expanded my support groups. And those groups exploded during my time as part of an institution – because I had a strong context within which to present myself to others.
It’s weird. It frequently feels like I don’t know which version of myself will show up at an event. The bubbly, out-going, networking fan, or the quiet, awkward, workaholic who isn’t cool enough (in her own mind) to hold a conversation with anyone. Now that I’m in a freelancer position, it has taken quite a while to reestablish myself and feel confident. It’s hard. Super hard. But finding friends is the most helpful for me. Having safe havens you can retreat to when you feel uncomfortable.
But David, it’s nice to have reassurance of the “once people are relating to your work it doesn’t matter” idea. I kind of believed that, but it’s nice to see it confirmed by someone else.
This is why I’m thankful for you, EG.
Oh and: “But David, it’s nice to have reassurance of the ‘once people are relating to your work it doesn’t matter’ idea. I kind of believed that, but it’s nice to see it confirmed by someone else.” THIS. As you know, I kind of don’t believe that, but I’d like to be more in your & David’s camp soon.
Ohmygosh, Liz, I’m just like David and Polly. I am a mess when I have to be in a room full of people I only marginally know, or to whom I’m a stranger. I only do reliably well when I can wear my Professional Job Function as a kind of buffer, acting out the role of what I’m there to do. People think I’m a huge extrovert, but it’s all a sort of performative sleight of hand while dying inside. I’m loads better at theatre functions because I can be my job. At a party or social gathering, though, you’ll find me in a corner staring at Very Important Emails on my phone, or hovering awkwardly around a conversation-circle I can’t figure out how to break into before giving up and going home. Now that the cat’s out of the bag on this one, maybe us introverts can begin to find each other at parties and stare at our phones together.
Thank you for reading and responding! It is such a relief to hear this. Your reply really got me thinking, too, because lately I’ve been focused on how to internalize that “Professional Job Function” role in my own life (i.e., being able to say, “I’m a playwright,” and it feeling genuine). For ref, see my most recent post. :/ Heh.
Thanks again for sharing your thoughts!
Hi Liz… Ilana (one comment up) pointed me to your blog. I can COMPLETELY relate! The thing about worrying what others must think of you as you’re trying to talk to them is the worst. And the stumbling over words and not being able to think of the words you want, when you’re supposed to be this writer who is, you know, GOOD at knowing which words to use… it’s awful.
I’m getting better, but overall still not very good at inviting people out to one-on-one or small, safe-feeling group events, because I’m terrified of rejection. I flash back to the time in dancing when I was 12 and a girl in my class was crying and everyone else in class crowded around to comfort her, and when I dared to do the same, another girl mouthed “go away” at me.
And sometimes I psyche myself out of going to social events because my anxiety just builds up all day, and then I’m worried I get the reputation of being a flake or being unfriendly. I’m terrible at entering and exiting conversations, so “mingling” is just horrifying. I grew up making self-deprecating jokes as a way of dealing with all of this, and that doesn’t quite work with people who don’t know you who will end up thinking you’re a total downer. I’d love to stare at my phone with any of you at a party… I’ve got cat photos!
All too familiar. Keep on truckin, girl!
Self-deprecation is a terrible habit–I’m working on fixing this too. Not easy. It’s so much more comfortable to point the spotlight away from ourselves.
Liz I missed this post — must figure out how to set up an RSS feed for your blog. Yes I can relate — I can think back to times when I had severe social anxiety/depression and was shocked when a classmate (from college) accused me of “never getting off my high horse.” I just shook my head. It’s awful to face such judgments from people who have no idea that when someone can’t engage it is often not really a choice. Somehow I forced myself into engaging with people — by necessity because of my job — and discovered that most of the time asking a question was a way to get a conversation going. And I aged out caring very much if I got a negative response — because you sometimes do. But as recently as two years ago I got so flustered at a conference because I thought I’d stuck my foot in my mouth, that I left early. So it is a lifelong struggle. But you can find work-arounds.
Thanks for commenting, Dw! Yes, questions are such a great tactic for rising above anxiety, along with listening, breathing, finding the natural moments to chime in with info about oneself. Chit-chat 101 should be a class,
Hi there Liz, I’m been thinking a lot about the dichotomy of my own confidence lately. Like Elissa, I can vary depending on the make up of the people in the room. If I know most of the people I feel comfortable, if I don’t, then like David I find the one other person I do know and stick with them most of the night.
The dichotomy of my confidence lately has centered around trying to be a proactive playwright, trying to do everything I can to move me and my work forward. And this weekend I began to see that I’ve been avoiding doing so locally, which should seem weird and it is in a way. Thinking that I don’t fit in locally for some reason. All this came up over the weekend at a theatre retreat and thankfully there was a fellow artist pushing me to face what I was doing. Truth be told it made me feel a bit “bad” for lack of a better word. It’s not that I’m self-sabotaging, but that I’m not giving myself a chance, taking risks for what I think is fear of rejection. The narrative I’ve been telling myself is that my work doesn’t fit at X theatre or they know my work and aren’t interested or they aren’t interested in unproven playwrights with no track record.
So I feel like my introverted self–I was massively introverted as a child–is manifesting itself in how I try and promote my work, myself and make connections for my career. I don’t have much advice except to say that acknowledging my introverted side is just the first step. I’m coming up with a list of people to reconnect with and before my next retreat in July I’ve promised my peer that I will be working to connect with more people locally. I need steps, listed out, measurable steps to hold myself accountable to. Whether or not anything will come of it is another issue all together. But I am committed to trying. So perhaps that is what I can offer you–articulate a step that pushes you to go beyond your comfort zone toward your goal and take it. Good luck!
“The dichotomy of my confidence.” Very interesting. Gonna think about this as it applies to my own life. And it’s funny–you’re not the first SF playwright I’ve heard to say they don’t fit into their own community. I imagine this is a feeling had in every city, tho…
Also, as you know, I love love love your list-making self. Lists yay!