My Booking Policies: In Plain Language

In the hopes of clearing up misconceptions, preconceived notions and prejudicial ideas; in an effort to maintain transparency; and with the ultimate goal of ending speculation and rumor I am now laying out - in plain language - my own personal criteria for booking shows.

All producers work with a different set of professional standards, but I do believe that similar ideas prevail within our industry. Though I don’t presume to speak for anyone else, I daresay that I am not the only person who considers any or all of the following conditions when hiring performers; regardless, to all those who wonder – internally or aloud – why so-and-so gets booked so often while they themselves do not, I offer the following considerations: 

Physical Characteristics

Do you have a rounded head which is large relative to your body size? A wide forehead and large eyes placed below the midline of your face? Rounded, protruding cheeks? In short, do you have kinderschema? As a producer it’s my job to engender in an audience feelings of protectiveness and sympathy and the desire to nurture, shelter and support. I primarily book performers with the physical traits associated with 1940’s-style animated woodland creatures, infants, and small, palm-sized rodents in order to elicit these maternal instincts in a paying audience.* 

The Casting Couch

Call it smarmy but it’s the truth: I only hire performers who won’t sleep with me - which certainly limits my casting pool. But it’s one of the perks of being a producer, and I intend to work it for all I can, without apologies. Hell, if I could get away with it’d never book anyone who I’ve ever actually spoken to, or even made eye contact with for that matter ... I’m just saying, the performer who’s freaky enough to leave the building every time I enter could go a long way in my productions, if you know what I mean. 

Ethnic Background

Listen, I don’t know how many times I have to say it: I’ve got nothing against Belgians. (Well, not the Walloons, anyway.) 

Awards and Recognition

If you look at the lineups of my last dozen or so shows, you’ll notice among the performers eleven Fulbright Scholars, one recipient of the Carnegie Award for outstanding work in literature for children or young adults, six Nobel Prize winners (2 in physics, 3 in chemistry and 1 for peace), various members of World Series and Super Bowl championship teams,** and no less than twenty-three Emmy and/or Oscar nominations (mostly in the technical and production fields, but impressive nonetheless). This should tell you something. 

Money

Like many producers I negotiate different rates with different performers, based largely on how many of my booking criteria they meet; but it is my policy to pay all of my performers and staff across the board in pre-decimalized British currency units. Therefore any performer – no matter their pay rate – who can’t convert £3 12s 6d into an understandable and contemporary monetary unit *** is simply of no use to me and won’t be booked until she can be bothered to learn how. 

Gifts go a long way.

It doesn’t have to be anything fancy or expensive - but a dead bird, bit of string, piece of tinfoil or small shiny button left on the doorstep certainly knocks you up a few spots on my booking list. Really want to impress? Just drop half a mouse in my lap, lick your butthole while staring at me for a minute or two, and saunter away like you don’t care … then check your inbox for that booking email. 

A Personal Connection

I’m getting an N, an N – do you know an N? An M? Do you know an M? Someone who recently passed. An M … or a W? It’s a W, yes – I’m getting a Wanda. A Walther. A Waldo … Wendy? You had a neighbor named Wendy when you were a kid. Yes, that’s it – it’s Wendy. She’s here with me now and she wants you to know that she’s happy, and she loves you, and she’s wondering if you’re available for a 9pm show in Brooklyn on the 14^th. 

What have you done for me lately?

Seriously - I know you used to do a lot of nice things for me, but what have you done for me lately?

[They’re rare cases, but please note that all of the above conditions are automatically superseded by ancient familial oaths, wizard’s curses (Level 16 or above) and any obligations of Masonic membership.]

* It’s a science fact that being subliminally reminded of cartoon bunnyrabbits makes audience members purchase on average 3.72 more drinks each – certainly something to consider when attempting to drive up bar revenue and maintain a profitable relationship with venue owners.

** The 1972 Dallas Cowboys, the 1964 St Louis Cardinals, the 1986 Chicago Bears, the 1910 Philadelphia Athletics, and the 2007 Boston Red Sox.

*** About $66

On Turning Twelve and Not Drinking The Kool-Aid

Not having felt moved to shout into the abyss of late, I haven’t been writing much - and the abyss, it appears, has been just fine without me.

But several days ago I passed my twelfth anniversary as a full-time performer, producer, writer and director within the neo-ecdystiastilogical arts. Twelve years. Big fucking deal, right? But it’s the longest I’ve had any job and, frankly, making a Life In Art – especially in New York City, and in 2016, and at no-longer-25 – is something.

So it seemed time to attempt to articulate a thing that has been sitting there taking up brainspace for a while now.

The temptation to hashtag about lacks of fucks is strong, but as we are not actually twelve years old, we resist nonetheless.

••••

I’d like to talk about The Myth Of Community.

The Myth of Community says that we are all one amazing loving shiny sparkly supportive gilttertribe that only wants to see all our sisters (and maybe brothers but really only The Acceptable Ones) shine and sparkle like the sassy empowered amazing fierce deserving creatures we all are.

The Myth of Community says that everybody who “does” burlesque (well, but of course what we really mean is performs burlesque, or maybe also teaches it) is equal: equally experienced, equally skilled, equally respectful and professional, equally deserving of financial and artistic success. It says that the sheer fact of existing under a stage name renders one worthy of every benefit that The Community has to offer.

The Myth of Community says that the one shining goal of burlesque is To Elevate Burlesque: that we’re all working hard, and all towards this same goal; and that at all times this single, universal, Community-wide goal is at the forefront of everyone’s motivations and thoughts - to the exclusion of individual needs and desires, so that it trumps and eclipses even personal events and real-world needs.

According to The Myth of Community, we all have the same artistic goals. We agree on what “is” and “isn’t” Burlesque. We all value the same things as people and as artists. And above all and beyond everything We all like each other and love each other and like each other, all the time and in all circumstances and we act like it too and we’re all best friends with everyone else, even the people we’ve sort of never really even met.

••••

… You do realize that this is pathological, right? It runs counter to almost every facet of basic human nature - which somehow and subconsciously we know, we realize and understand. But the Myth is so pervasive (and glittery and attractive and unicorns and butts omg yay!!!) that we all buy into it  - we pretty much have to, in order to Succeed At Burlesque. (Remember: you’re never going to Be Voted Number One if you put yourself first without also putting The Community first too.)

The Myth feeds and fuels all the feelings of entitlement, butthurtédness and persecution, the lack mentality, the competition hysteria and zero-sum mentality, the climbing and posing and starfucking and cutting down and backbiting and shade-throwing and simple basic lying that creates such a wildly unpleasant and constant undercurrent to everything that we do.

Because of course we’re human: and it is in the nature of humans to be selfish. Not grab-all-the-candy, tax-the-poor, kick-the-orphans-out-of-the-hospital Gordon Gekko greedy, but we all have our individual needs, desires, likes and dislikes, goals, values and opinions. Sometimes these synch up with other people’s, and sometimes they do not; but either way truly and honestly our only obligation is to seeing that serving our own goals doesn’t actively hurt or intentionally deprive others. And that is called Existing In Society.

When we Exist in Society, we get to make the decision to collaborate artistically or financially or personally with this individual rather than that one. When someone hurts or is unkind to us – deliberately or by accident - we are allowed to speak up about it to that person. Artistic opinions can be expressed and discussed without personal attack or reprisal. We get to spend our leisure time with people whose company we enjoy, with no implied obligations on our professional time and relationships (and vice versa). We get to work towards goals that are meaningful to us personally, to not participate in events that are uncomfortable or unpleasant or uninteresting to us, to avoid situations that would mean interacting with people that hurt us, or disrespect us, or who we simply and for no particular reason just kinda don’t like. WE ARE ALLOWED TO JUST KINDA OR ACTUALLY AND IN FACT NOT LIKE PEOPLE, FOR NO PARTICULAR REASON OR FOR ACTUAL REASONS TOO.

••••

And so.

In rejecting the Myth, we’re not instituting a self-centered free-for-all. We’re simply freeing ourselves of these self-imposed obligations of behavior and interaction that constantly butt up against the nature of humans in general and Us Sensitive Artist Types in particular:

When we reject The Myth of Community we’re acknowledging that we’re not one giant hydra-headed single-minded “glittertribe,” but countless self-created, geographically-convenient, interest- or circumstance-based groups, cliques, families, companies, troupes and organizations, some of which overlap in a giant Venn Diagram and others of which exist as independent satellites - and that is alright.

When we reject The Myth of Community we’re acknowledging that not everyone is at the same place in their artistic journey, that not everyone has the same level of experience or training or talent, and that opportunity, compensation and recognition are based at least in part on these factors - and that is okay.

When we reject The Myth of Community we’re acknowledging that the reasons for which people participate in burlesque are varied and infinite; that one person can have several or many different reasons and that these can change over time and with personal experience; that often different people’s goals are complementary but many times they are not - and that is acceptable. 

When we reject The Myth of Community we’re acknowledging that “art” has as many definitions as the people who create it - and that is as it should be.

When we reject The Myth of Community we’re acknowledging that humans are just that – human – with different personalities and experiences and outlooks and intellectual responses and emotional responses and likes and dislikes and relationships and attractions, that everyone is owed basic human respect and that that is the only thing everyone is owed - and that is, simply, what existing as human beings means.

••••

So when we reject this Myth what, practically, happens?

Well.

The idea that there is one single “definition” of burlesque finally being discarded as ludicrous, no show or performer is any longer dismissed by others as being “just classic” or “only doing weird shit” – or indeed is required to define it- or herself in any way. The fucking pointless Is burlesque stripping? non-discussion finally just stops. If people want to perform or produce or teach solely as a lucrative and early-retirement-friendly career, they are free to do so to the best of their ability and the limit the market will allow. If people want to create performances or shows simply for the sheer artistic exhilaration of it and never charge a dime, they are free to collaborate with like-minded individuals and organizations to do so. Other artists will agree or decline to work under these conditions as they so choose. If people want more than anything only to re-create historical striptease with absolute accuracy, or just to perform neo-burlesque based on pop culture references, or solely to be recognized with a particular title or crown, they are free to work towards these goals with as much or as little energy, focus, money and time as they choose to expend.

With producers under no perceived obligation to book anyone, backstage and online bitching about why so-and-so never books me stops, creating a far more professional and pleasant environment for everyone. Forced instead to both evaluate their own attitude and skill level and to learn to interact with peers in a businesslike and appropriate manner, performers, producers and others elevate the level of skill and professionalism across the board. With this increased level of professionalism comes independent, value-based decision-making (“Your host tells racist jokes onstage, so I will not perform with your show”) and also actual accountability (“I choose not to hire you because you speak very badly of this show to other producers and performers.”) With this transparency, rumor-mongering is no longer tolerated and thousands of social media ‘secret groups’ are disbanded. The number of Facebook-fueled pre-ulcerous conditions among artstrippers plummets. 

Without an undefined, constantly contradictory notion of “community” fueling commentary on all ideas and events people focus on their own work rather than monitoring everybody else’s. They work towards fostering meaningful real-world interactions with other living breathing beings, rather than speaking only through the comments section or vaguebooking. They work with whom they choose, for whatever personal or professional reasons they like, while expecting or requiring nothing from those with whom they do not have any relationship.

Festivals become actual ‘reunions’ around the world and celebrations of the various facets of the art form, rather than in-name-or-in-notion attendance-obligatory cookie-cutter pageants. Numerically-ranked voting lists vanish in a puff of illogic and the endless commentary on these lists is instead channeled towards proficient and informed reviews and discussions of art and of craft. Literally almost everyone never wins Miss Exotic World. There is no Next Dita, the Facebook police still crack down on stage names, bots still flag nipple pics and trolls still call us sluts and fatties in the comments section.

And because we don’t have the obligation of Community to contend with all the time, we simply deal with it all in our own individual ways, with the support of our actual friends and families, and with an actual mindfulness towards others’ journeys and the impact that our words and actions have on them beyond trite floral inspirational #myshowgirlfamily quotes on Instagram.

••••

Most of this of course will never happen. It is the utopian fantasy of a middle-aged wiseass title-less non-numerically-important neo-ecdysiast whose goal is to create weird smart shit with like-minded, dependable and adventurous artists, and to sell enough tickets to that shit to pay her exorbitant rent and not die of scurvy in the streets of New York. Would she like to be Heralded as The Eternal Queen of What She Does? She surely would. She would like to be ensconced as Permanent Number One for A Life In Art, Flawlessly Exhibited. She would like to see her Enemies Vanquished By Fire, she would like everyone to agree with her all the time, and to Do Better, and to shut the fuck up about everyone else for a goddamned minute and live their own fucking lives. Is that gonna happen? Ain’t. After twelve years of it the best she can hope for is one single hour when all the other butthurt whiners just do their work, and leave everyone else alone to do their work too.

And so I do enter into a new era of fucklessness. I’d invite you along but really, at this point, I don’t give a fuck. I’ll be over here like an adult caring about the things and people that matter to me and that care back, and not worrying about the rest of it .

But I’m sure I’ll hear everyone’s thoughts on that through the grapevine eventually, anyway.

Time To Put Your Glitter Where Your Mouth Is

--> If there’s one thing a 10^th anniversary inspires, it’s decadent* introspection. Having only recently celebrated my own Aluminum Anniversary in the ecdysiastical arts, I’ve been just full of Terribly Important And Insightful Musings That Are Definitely Worthy To Be Shared And You Know You Want To Hear Them, Too. But then I realized no one but me is really interested in my old-man rantings about Back when I started performing! You kids have it so easy! I once had to sell a kidney for a bag of rhinestones! - and, frankly, even I’m not so very interested myself that I can’t be easily distracted by a Love Boat rerun or a Tumblr full of bunnies or strippers or bunnies and strippers holy crap someone find me that Tumblr now. Move it along Margaret, it’s a new day, time marches on, innovate or die. So okay … except for one thing which hasn’t changed - and which, frankly, I’m just tired of hearing over and over and over again.

Art-strippers come and go but the complaining does not. Because we like to complain. We like to proclaim, and be clever, and point out the problems with “the community,” and tell each other how shows should be run and how performers should perform, and how festivals and competitions should be organized and crowns and titles should be awarded, and how producers and audiences and musicians and costumers and DJs and bartenders should behave and just exactly who should be allowed to do what; and sometimes a larger percentage of “the community” is in agreement over these shoulds, and more often they are not, but time and again over the last ten years I have read and I have heard (and I too have proclaimed) what should be done and what should be changed and that is followed almost immediately by a chorus of voices singing out:

“But a gig's a gig.”

“And I need the work.”

And this, right here, this is the crucial moment where the pause needs to happen and everybody but everybody needs to stop talking and get off the internet and put down the phone and go off alone onto a mountaintop or into a quiet locked room and really, really think. Because unlike the Muggle world in which jobs provide things like food and shelter but require a high degree of not-punching-that-asshole-district-supervisor-in-the-face, our Jellicle job is low on income and security but high on the not-having-to-put-up-with-civilian-bullshit-like-that-and-also-we-can-wear-boas-to-work scale. In exchange for never really making a living getting naked, we do actually have more freedom in certain areas; and therefore:

If you honestly and truly believe that a performance situation is wrong, professionally or morally (the facilities are inadequate, the pay is too low, you are being asked to compromise your personal or artistic beliefs), then do not take the gig. That’s it. Don’t take it. **

If you believe that the situation is acceptable if certain conditions are met, then propose those changes. If they are made, great; if not, do not take the gig.

If you are willing to take the gig as it is, if you’re comfortable with the reality and morality of the situation, then take the gig. And shut up. ***

I’m tired of hearing about how shitty this gig is, how awful that show is, how this one pays almost nothing and that one is a horrible degrading experience and this venue doesn’t have a stage and that venue doesn’t have a bathroom and this producer owes me money, didn’t say anything when the bar owner grabbed my ass, let a dozen photographers into the dressing room, did nothing to promote the show - from performers who keep taking these same gigs, again and again and again. (What’s that thing that Albert Einstein probably never said? “The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.”) If you want the situation to change, your behaviour towards it must change; if you don’t require it to change, if you can accept it even with its imperfections, then complaining about it serves no purpose and just takes away from bunny-stripper-Tumblr time.

To be sure, this doesn’t address the monetary aspect of the situation and all I can say is, personally I have not yet been faced with the ethical/financial dilemma of “Do I turn down that Republican Party Fundraiser gig on moral grounds even though it pays $100,000 and a unicorn?” And I daresay that until a major political upheaval occurs, most of us will never find ourselves in anything even approaching this situation.

However: I have turned down private gigs that paid half a month’s rent but required ten months of work; well-paying day-trip gigs with a producer I was totally skeeved out about spending six hours in a car with; regular gigs in venues so inappropriate as performance spaces that I want to claw my own pasties off in frustration, or locations so difficult to get to that they require three hours of subway travel, or so dangerous that I literally fear for my safety coming home. I have stopped working with producers that have accepted massive pay cuts from venues, or don’t oversee or curate their shows, or do nothing to protect their performers from sexual harassment by venue management or audience members; and in contrast I have supported the decision of a producer who cancelled a long-running, decently-paying regular gig when an audience yelled racial slurs at a performer and the venue management simply shrugged it off. After ten years, I’ve even stopped taking gigs that are just kind of a pain in the ass, simply because I’m too old and tired and I don’t want to complain all the time.

In this fragile art-stripper economy, I have felt the loss (and so has my landlord) of every single one of those turned-down gigs, be they $40 or $400 paychecks. And it’s not to say that I haven’t decided to take plenty of less-than-ideal gigs just to pay the rent, or just because they were incredibly fun. **** But over the years I’ve realized the importance of making actual, conscious, deliberate decisions about gigs – Am I satisfied with the circumstances of this job? Do I feel the money is fair? Is this a producer I’m comfortable working with, and a show I want my name on? Is this gig going to be a fucking great time that I’ll remember forever, and is that alone important enough? – rather than taking every show that’s offered despite my misgivings because, well, a gig’s a gig and I really need the work.

Because despite a decade of changes, two things have remained exactly the same: I always need the work, and there’s always another gig.

* Get it? “Decadent”? Like decade? Word power!

** And hey, if you feel strongly about the situation (and if you Care Enough To Complain, then let’s assume that you do) why not politely and appropriately voice your reasons for turning down the gig? If that producer hears enough times and from enough people “Thank you for the offer but I simply can’t travel three hours and perform four acts in your show for a $30 guarantee,” or “The last time I worked at your venue the host was incredibly offensive and inappropriate; as much as I enjoy your show I can’t work with you again as long as she’s hosting,” then maybe just maybe the pay scale will increase, or the quality of the hosting will improve. But if she never hears otherwise, there’s very little impetus for that producer to up the pay or fire the asshole who thinks “Our next performer is pretty hot for a fat chick!” is a valid hosting schtick.

*** Blowing up FaceTube with blind-item posts about how SOME PRODUCERS in the community really need to learn to VALUE PERFORMERS and RESPECT that what we do takes TIME AND SKILL and REALLY SHOULD LEARN that WE DON’T WORK FOR FREE and THEY’d be NOWHERE without performers!!!!! does not count as shutting up.

**** Not that I’ve yet experienced The Ideal Gig (despite a lot of truly excellent ones). I rather suspect that if I ever do perform in The Perfect Show, I’ll crumble into a pile of dust and glitter as I leave the stage.

You don’t know me but you should totally book me!

--> The general quality of cold-email booking requests doesn't seem to have improved a hell of a lot over the past decade … although the volume of them sure has increased exponentially. I should know: years ago I wrote some of the most truly unforgivable ones myself and since then, in various production capacities, I’ve been receiving them almost daily.

Contemporary primary education barely teaches Look Where You’re Walking, You Idiot; so it’s little wonder that How To Correspond In A Professional Capacity With Strangers has gone almost completely by the wayside. In an effort, then, towards remedy:

How To Write A Cold Email Requesting A Performance Booking That Won’t Make The Recipient Want To Stab You In The Neck

Some Dos & Don’ts and a couple of Do Nots for variety:

• DO include a salutation, preferably one addressed to the specific person who will open the email.

If a complete stranger walked up to you with absolutely no preamble or introduction whatsoever and said “I’m a nurse and I want to work in your hospital,” your reaction might be a blank stare, or maybe some sort of spit-take depending on your proximity to beverages.* And yet about half of the booking emails I have ever received began just like that: “I’m a performer and I want to perform in your show.”

Not “Hi there.” Not “Hello” or “Howdy” or even “Hey.” Just “I want to be booked in your show.”

Take a moment to consider your cold email as that actual, in-person conversation-with-a-stranger. If your very first words make you sound like a self-centered nine-year-old, you’re not starting off on a spectacular note. This is a business email: so sixteen opening paragraphs of Glitterfabulousunicornssparkleglamourkisskisskiss! is a waste of everyone’s time; but taking the zero-point-no-seconds necessary to type “Hello” first goes a long way towards indicating that you’re an actual human being with an interest in other people and an ability to interact in society.

Now consider how spectacularly professional, prepared and totally together you’ll seem if you take only-slightly-more-time, attempt to find out the name of the person booking the show, and address the email to her. This not only implies that you know how to use Google, but demonstrates that you’ve actually researched the show and you understand what it is you’re asking to be hired for, rather than blanket-emailing every show within a 20-mile radius.

• Even though this is a copy-and-paste email that you’re blanket-emailing to every show within a 20-mile radius – and we all know it is, so don’t let’s pretend otherwise – DO obsessively check a dozen times that you’ve changed all necessary names and titles.

Even if the email opens with the immaculately-researched “Dear Ms. Canasta,  I’m writing to ask about a possible booking for Sweet & Nasty,” ** if three paragraphs later it says “Thanks so much, Emil, for considering me for the Whoops-A-Doggie Revue***,” it’s going right in the trash folder.

• DO mention personal connections; DO NOT imply recommendations without permission.

If Sarah Stripper explicitly says to you “Oh, sure, tell Petunia Producer that I recommended you for her show,” then by all means write to Petunia Producer, “I worked with Sarah Stripper recently and she suggested I drop you a line to ask about performing in the Petunia Producer Follies.”*** In contrast, “I worked with Sarah Stripper recently, she’s awesome. I’d like to be booked for your show” is disingenuous at best, transparent at worst.

• DO be friendly. DON’T be juvenile.

The Dickensian days of “Dear Sir or Madam, I am writing to enquire as to the opportunities for ecdysiastical employment within the framework of your productionary endeavours” are dead and gone. But if you’re old enough to strip you’re old enough to know that OMGPON1EZ!!! is not an acceptable closing to a business letter.

• DO be specific in your request - and DO remember that it’s a request, NOT a demand.

Are you looking for a booking in a particular production, or do you just want to work with that producer any time she might have a spot open? Are you only going to be in her town on certain days? Do you have a ‘special skill’ (fire, aerial) that her venue is perfect for? Then say that. “I’m a new performer and I’d like to introduce myself to you” is fine in person but what the hell is a producer supposed to do with that email beyond “Um, okay … nice to meet you”?

Let’s talk for a minute here about language and tone of voice. It is important in life to know what you want … but perhaps “want” is not always the word to use when trying to achieve it. Simpering and saccharine airheadedness are completely unnecessary and equally offputting, but consider: 

“I’d like to work with you” VS “I want to be in your show” 

“I’m writing about potential bookings” VS “I’m writing because I want to be booked” 

“I have an act that might fit in well with your theme” VS “My act will be great in your show”

Read it out loud before you hit send. Does this sound like a polite, friendly, professional and reasonable conversation, or a crystal-smashing, tantrum-throwing, me-me-me screaming diva fit? I’ve gotten a few doozies that sounded positively psychotic … which definitely affected how quickly I didn’t rush to never reply.

• DO your research. Know the show you’re asking to be booked for.

Currently, I cast one production. It is a reading series. Granted, the degree of nudity that is an integral part of this ongoing production**** means that many of the performers have some striptease experience as well; but the show itself is, simply, a reading series. We read, naked, out loud. That is all.

About half of the booking emails I receive – even the ones that get the name of the show right – do not say a single word about “reading.” They say “strip” or they say “dance;” they include extensive and detailed descriptions of burlesque routines and striptease numbers – many with video links – but nowhere do they say “and I’d also love to read naked out loud in your show.”

I assume when I receive these emails that the senders either lack the ability to use Google, or do not in fact know how to read.

• DO send links; DO NOT send attachments.

Seriously. It’s 2014. How does everyone not know this by now?

• DO briefly describe your style, aesthetic, or special skills; DO NOT send a cutesy fake character bio, a fourteen-page-long history of every non-performance job you’ve ever had, or a string of meaningless hyperbole.

Yes: “I perform classic striptease to a wide variety of contemporary music, often incorporating into my acts my 15 years of en pointe training.”

No no no dear god no: “Found in a box under a pool table in Las Vegas, I was raised by rock n’ roll werewolves who taught me my love of the open road and the secrets of magical transformation that make my performances a mind-blowing spectacle of dark beauty that have transfixed the world - and beyond! After a thousand and one nights dancing my tales before the desert courts of the foreign sands, I strapped my surfboard to my rocketship and made my way here to Springfield, where my unique blend of Dita Von Teese and Bettie Page is taking the burlesque scene by storm.”

• DO NOT include a page-long description of every act you do. Don’t include a one sentence description of every act you do.  Don’t describe all the acts you do.

If you’re looking to get a specific act booked in a specific show a brief description is in order. (“I have a John Hancock-lap-dancing-the-Constitution act that I think would be a great fit in your Founding Fathers show.”)  Otherwise, a concise explanation of your unique style (see above) and a link to your videos page is enough. If a producer wants more information about specific acts, she’ll ask for it.

• DO be honest about your experience - or lack of it.

Any producer with ten minutes’ experience of her own knows instantly when a new or less-seasoned strippeur is stretching the limits of credulity with a padded-out performance resumé: presenting every single performance with a particular show as a separate item, for example, or listing workshops or class recitals as ‘bookings.’ The honesty of “I’ve performed here in Springfield in the Stripper University Graduate Showcase at Café Fabulous, with Bras Be Damned! at The Music Box, and several times with Petunia Producer’s Follies” is perfectly legitimate; “I have many performance credits throughout Springfield and beyond, including: Café Fabulous (November 2013); Petunia Producer’s Follies (November 2013), The Music Box (December 2013), Petunia Producer’s Follies (December 2013), Bras Be Damned! (December 2013) and Petunia Producer’s Follies (January 2014)” is frankly insulting.

Two more things:

“Interstate” is not the same as “international.”

And if you lie about your performance experience, you will be found out. I once got a booking email from a complete and total stranger who had my own show listed on her resumé.

• DO be reasonable, professional and polite.

Polite, reasonable professionals do not write in cold emails things like:

• “I want to be booked for a weekly spot in your show.”
• “Our fifteen-person troupe will be in town, can you book our group number and also have us all do solos?”
• “So what’s the deal to be in your show?”
• “Can you teach me an act I can do in your next show?”
• “I guess we haven’t met but it’s still weird that you haven’t booked me yet.”
• “I’ve never been to your show but I really like the vibe of your photos! I want to perform with you!”
• “I’m going be taking a class soon so I’d like to arrange now to be in your show after that.”

And yet I’ve actually gotten all of these, and many many more.

Not to harsh your fabulous showgirl mellow, but you’re writing to a stranger, asking for a job. Just because that job involves boobs and feathers doesn’t mean you can’t be professional and fabulous at the same time.

(This, by the way, is quite fantastic and well worth a quick read.)

* If, for instance, it were me, said proximity would likely be close; said beverages would be whiskey, neat; and – because I think they’re really funny - the probability of spit-takes would be damn near 100%.

** Defunct. Dead. Buried. (Seriously. We had a funeral and everything.) Please do not ask to be booked for Sweet & Nasty, as I actually will book you but you will be the only one in the show and I will be the only one in the audience and that’s gonna get creepy but quick.

*** Hands off the name, bitches, I thought of it first.

**** i.e., High.

MEMO: Pls call to resched. your appt w/Human Resources Dept.

--> 2013 Year-End Performance Review: Self-Evaluation

(With thanks to the several naff business-form-online sites that provided inspiration and/or wording.)

This Self Evaluation form is an opportunity for you to provide input into your Performance Review Process.* The form assists you in focusing on specific aspects of your job performance, including your unique strengths, talent and development focus for the future.

The good news is that as an independent performer or producer (or kitten, or costumer, or whatever the hell you are) you will not be required to show up to some dreary fluorescent-lit corporate hell-hole at 7 a.m. so an MBA fifteen years your junior can mouth businessspeak at you off of a checklist while you try desperately not to swear or say “boobs.” Rather, your personal Performance Review Process can be conducted naked in your living room with a bottle of wine in one hand and a different bottle of wine in the other - what’s important is that you take a moment for a little quiet professional and artistic reflection, as the year draws to a close (why not).

To that end, I invite you to use the following form as a starting point; not to share with anyone or the general public (unless you want to), not to obsess over and spend hours crafting essay-answers for (again, unless that’s your jam), but simply to help start the process of taking stock of your past year, professionally and artistically, and looking forward to the next.

And if I did the internet right, you can even print it out. If that kind of thing turns you on.

* Well, actually, no, it is the opportunity for your Performance Review Process. Being as we are in the relatively unique situation of a completely unregulated and non-hierarchical industry where any sort of professional criticism or feedback from peers, employers or consumers of our product (other than the frankly useless "OMG you are the gratest sooooooo pretty! Luv youuuuuuuuu!!!!") is highly likely to be automatically received as persecution, the only actual Performance Review Process in which any of us will participate has got to be self-initiated. 

And honestly attempted, too. Most of us fall to one absurd and unrealistic side or the other of “Well obviously the reason I don’t get booked is because no one can deal with how perfect and amazing I am and they should all go swallow glitter and die,” and “Well obviously the reason I don’t get booked is because I’m worthless and hideous and I should go swallow glitter and die.” Objectivity is difficult to maintain for us sensitive artist-types: I hear a lot of self-deprecating or frankly libelous reasons-why-I-don’t-get-booked (many of them, I am not happy to say, coming out of my own mouth) but very few honest-assessments-of-my-own-skill-level, pragmatic-understanding-of-my-uniqueness-and-marketability, or what-I-have-actually-done-to-get-that-job-beyond-“deserving”-it-and-waiting-for-it-to-come-to-me. 

About six months after I started performing I got a regular Saturday gig, go-go dancing from 1 to 3 a.m. at a venue that also happened to be the home of one of the only regular, highly-regarded burlesque shows in the city. One night I asked the booking manager when he was going to hire me for that show. Without malice, he replied “When you’re good enough.” I’m sure I looked as nonplussed as I felt, because he then explained: “Listen, you’ve been getting better but you’re still really new. Right now I couldn’t put you onstage next to Julie or Amber, but when you’re good enough, I will.”** 

I cannot imagine this conversation taking place today without the immediate indignant FaceTube post that Everyone DESERVES to get booked in EVERY SINGLE SHOW and no producer or booker should think that ANY PERSON is more experienced or skilled or that their particular style is more appropriate for a particular show than ANYONE ELSE and that guy deserves to be KILLED. 

Well okay, then. Until the format exists within a professional context for skilled, thoughtful feedback to be both given and received, *** it is up to us as individuals, and as working artists, to occasionally take stock of our work and our selves - as honestly and as dispassionately as possible, and without straying either into the Swamp of Self-Loathing or the Desert of Divadom. **** Because self-awareness is an invaluable thing: it can help us avoid everything from particularly unflattering styles of underwear to murderous depressive rage every time a show is announced that we’re not in. And most importantly, like a big giant multi-vitamin for the soul, it’s essential for healthy artistic growth.

 •••••

 SELF-EVALUATION FORM 
To be completed without pants.

• What is your job title?
Why do you use this title in particular? What does it say about what you do and about how you do it? 

• Why are you doing this? Why are you doing this? What do you specifically contribute to your artform & profession that is unique or innovative? 

• What are you the most terrified to do, artistically speaking?

Have you ever done it?

• What is your greatest strength?
What do you do to capitalize on this strength?

• What is your greatest weakness?
What do you do to minimize the negative effects of this weakness?

• What single accomplishment, event or product from this past year are you most pleased with or proud of?

• What single event, action or product from this past year are you least pleased with or embarrassed by?

• What skill or talent would you like to add to your resumé?

Could you realistically learn or acquire this skill? If so, are you willing to expend the time and/or money that that would require?

• In the past year how (if at all) were you Part Of The Problem?
How were you Part Of The Solution?

• What is a single, achievable goal for the upcoming year?
What specific actions can you take to achieve this goal?

• What is one magic-wish, fairy-tale, genie-in-a-bottle totally-absurd-dream goal?
What’s one specific action you could actually take, now, in the actual real world to begin to achieve this goal? 

• How did this past year differ from your expectations?

• Where do you see yourself at the end of 2014? 

 •••••

** I am proud to say that eventually, I was, and eventually, he did.
*** I do not, I freely admit, know what that format ought best to be; nor do I have any interest in being the sole motivator or administrator of it so don’t ask, thank you.

**** Ugh, sorry about that.

And I Wish Real Life Came With Back-Up Dancers

“’Tis bitter cold, and I am sick at heart.”

                                                - Hamlet, Act I, scene i

--> I am tired of fighting - with everyone, about everything, every single second of every night and day.

I am exhausted by every audience member who believes that buying a ticket entitles them to take my photo, to film my acts, gives them access to me before the show and after the show and during the show and somehow makes them part of my life.

I’m tired of everyone who has ever - or never - seen a show and thus presumes to speak with great authority about the complexities of art and business and babysitting and relationships and talent and experience and personalities and effort and risk that go into every single second of what I do.

I’m exhausted by those who don’t understand the difference between thoughtful critique and adolescent whingeing, between creating and consuming, between opinion and fact, stage and reality, the internet and life.

I am tired of everyone’s hurt feelings and offended sensibilities and ranting outrage - which somehow exists simultaneously with a blithe disregard for the feelings and sensibilities and circumstances of anyone else’s reality.

I’m tired of bad performers who assume that the sheer fact of their existence entitles them to work; of bad producers who assume that the sheer fact of their existence entitles them to endless gratitude; of every single person who simply assumes that they can do what I do.

I am exhausted by colleagues and friends of nearly a decade’s acquaintance saying one thing to my face and another thing to Facebook. I’m tired of colleagues of minutes’ acquaintance somehow having opinions on my life of a decade past.

I’m tired of constantly having to defend everything I create; of having years of focus and effort and craft dismissed as “comic relief” by performers with a different aesthetic from my own; of being too smart to be the pretty one and too weird to be the fancy one and too much of a stripper to be a “real” performer; and of ever caring about any of that as much as I do.

I’m exhausted by the very idea of a loving and supportive artistic ‘community’ that thrives on factionalism and self-righteousness and dishonest business dealings. I am tired of public outrage when perpetrated against and wide-eyed blinking innocence when perpetrating in the exact same way.

I’m tired of this city. And suitcases. And subways and stairs and closing in on forty with increasingly bad knees and no health insurance and borrowed rent money and strings of cancelled gigs every time it snows.

I am tired of glitter. I am exhausted by the very words: fabulous, showgirl, glamour. I’m tired of leopard print, of spandex, of eyelash glue. I am exhausted by the debate over Swarovskis versus acrylics - by the very fact that this is, somehow, a debate.

I’m tired of having fun. I’m tired of talking about how much fun I’m having, of Tweeting about having fun and posting fun photos of all my fun. I’m tired and just right now, I’m not having any fun.