I
have a BA in Drama with a major in acting. I also have an MFA in theater
administration, yet for the last (mumble
mumble) years, I’ve worked in not-for-profit finance and information
technology. Why?
Actors.
Despite
my years as one of them, actors drove me out of theater.
When
I was an undergraduate actor at UCI, my stage management instructor frequently
made comments about actors, disparaging their intellect. I took exception to
this, to which he always replied, “You’re too smart to be an actor, so I
forget.”
Hmmmm.
I was not particularly pleased with this answer, but over the course of my
acting career, I found that indeed, actors can be brilliant onstage, but unable
to reason themselves out of a cardboard box offstage.
Of
course, this is true for a lot of people, including me. We all have our
specialties and our blind spots. However, when I was creating the character of
Max Stone, the narcissistic host of Haunted to the Max in Stumptown Spirits, I
revisited some of the worst characteristics of actors I’ve worked with—as well
as the attitudes of the technical crews toward them.
Deep
down, Max isn’t a mean guy. But he’s not especially sensitive to other people’s
feelings. He’s the center of his own universe and everything he does or says is
filtered through that lens. (You know, sort of like your average teenager.)
His
most annoying characteristic (at least from the perspective of Riley and Logan)
is that he’s impossible to escape. He pops up everywhere, at the most
inopportune times. He’s that guy, the last one you’d want to run
into, yet the one you run into the most.
One
of the actors who drove me out of theater was a phenomenal performer, but very
difficult to deal with offstage. He didn’t engage in any kind of conversation
with the administrative staff (I was the business manager at Berkeley Repertory
Theater at the time). If he had an issue, real or imagined, he went directly to
threats of union intervention. You never knew what might set him off.
Berkeley
Rep sent one its shows on tour to the Joyce Theater in New York, where one of
my classmates from graduate school worked. I saw her a year or so later and we
talked about the show. She said it was a great experience except for one actor.
Yep.
That guy.
A
couple of years after that, I moved to Portland, Oregon. At the time, I was (I
thought) safely removed from theater, working as the CFO for a non-for-profit
mental health organization. One Sunday, I pulled the Arts and Entertainment
section out of the Oregonian (yes, we still had print newspapers back
then). Who was right there on the cover, in full color?
That
guy.
Again.
Sigh. I gave up.
When it comes to that guy, you can hide, but you can never run
far enough.
*********************
What price would you pay to rescue a
friend from hell?
For Logan Conner, the answer is almost anything.
Guilt-ridden over trapping his college roommate in a ghost war rooted in
Portland’s pioneer past, Logan has spent years searching for a solution. Then
his new boyfriend, folklorist Riley Morrel, inadvertently gives him the key.
Determined to pay his debt—and keep Riley safe—Logan abandons Riley and returns
to Portland, prepared to give up his freedom and his future to make things
right.
Crushed by Logan’s betrayal, Riley drops
out of school and takes a job on a lackluster paranormal investigation show.
When the crew arrives in Portland to film an episode about a local legend of
feuding ghosts, he stumbles across Logan working at a local bar, and learns the
truth about Logan’s plan.
Their destinies once more intertwined,
the two men attempt to reforge their relationship while dodging a narcissistic
TV personality, a craven ex-ghost, and a curmudgeonly bar owner with a hidden
agenda. But Logan’s date with destiny is looming, and his life might not be the
only one at stake.
About
EJ Russell:
E.J.
Russell holds a BA and an MFA in theater, so naturally she’s spent the last
three decades as a financial manager, database designer, and
business-intelligence consultant. After her twin sons left for college and she
no longer spent half her waking hours ferrying them to dance class, she
returned to her childhood love of writing fiction. Now she wonders why she ever
thought an empty nest meant leisure.
E.J.
lives in rural Oregon with her curmudgeonly husband, the only man on the planet
who cares less about sports than she does. She enjoys visits from her wonderful
adult children, and indulges in good books, red wine, and the occasional
hyperbole.
Connect
with E.J.:
Giveaway:
To
celebrate the release of Stumptown
Spirits, EJ is giving away $25 in
Riptide credit.
Leave a
comment to enter the contest.
Entries close at midnight, Eastern time, on May
21, 2016.
Contest is NOT restricted to U.S. entries.
LOL - I have found to in my life that "that guy" (or more like "that person") gets the impression that I am their particular friend to my chagrin.
ReplyDeletejen(dot)f(at)mac(dot)com
Everybody has "that guy," don't they? I can think of a few myself...
ReplyDeleteTrix, vitajex(At)aol(Dot)com
Ex-ghost, that's a new for me and sounds intriguing.
ReplyDeleteacm05atjuno.com
I think somewhere we've all come across someone like "that guy". It's rough but that's why we pick and choose who we want to hangout with in our private time.
ReplyDeletehumhumbum AT yahoo DOT com
Too funny and too true! You can never avoid "that guy"
ReplyDeleteToni violet817(at)aol(dot)com
Thanks so much to Booklover Sue for hosting me today, and to everyone who stopped by to hear about "that guy"!
ReplyDeleteOh no! I want a happy ending to this story. I will hope (foolishly) that he actually finds enlightenment, but (realistically) mostly just that you never have to run into that guy again!
ReplyDeletecaroaz [at] ymail [dot] com