I Moved to New York…Now What?

On October 20, 2023 I hopped on a plane at LAX with half a dream and a heavy sweater. Six hours later, I landed in Newark, NJ.

Two months earlier: I’m living in California with a fancy car and a steady job with a promotion on the table. By the time I get to the East Coast, I’ve nothing but a couple of suitcases, some cash (and by cash I mean the balance in my checking account. Who uses dollar bills anymore? Ew.) and one very general, very recently acquired, bachelor’s degree in theatre.

What the f*** was I supposed to do now?

I pretty much did what any sensible person in my situation would do; I cried. A lot. Don’t get me wrong, I never felt like I was forced to move or in a bad situation, but moving across the country from all your family and friends with no clue what you’re going to do or how is a big leap of faith.

It took me five months of applying to jobs to get called for an interview. I was lucky that interview turned into a job offer, because I was down to the last dregs of my savings account. And it’s given me some of the most complicated feelings for a job I’ve ever had. At the end of the day, it pays the bills and gives me freedom to do what I actually came here to do.

I moved to New York like any bright-eyed and bushy-tailed recent graduate of the arts: to make a name for myself producing and publishing my work.

With my newly minted theatre degree, I figured I should probably find a job—any job—in the theatrical arts and stick with auditioning for roles and submitting my plays for production opportunities. This has generated some medium success for me. With playwriting, I’ve had a play produced in 3 different places, another has a reading, and I’ve been published twice. As an actor, I have yet to be cast in anything I’ve auditioned for, but I’ve had the opportunity to be a part of a few different performances that I was invited to participate in because of people I knew. And to top it all off, my first job in NYC is at a Broadway theatre.

But it doesn’t feel like enough.

Maybe such is the life of an artist. Maybe, even when we are doing what we say we want to do, it feels like we should always be doing more.

I am a writer. I have this blog so I can force myself to write and publish something each week(ish). I’m working on a novel. I’m getting movement on a full-length play I wrote. I’m co-writing a musical with my roommate.

And yet I still feel like I should be doing more.

What else can I do to get my name out there? Should I be writing poetry and reading it on TikTok? Should I be posting on Instagram everyday? Should I be doing book reviews and day-in-the-life videos for YouTube?

But I didn’t set out to have a life in marketing. I’m not the biggest fan of social media in general.

That’s the deal, though, right? To have any sort of success in the arts, you must also have success in business.

So, I’m in New York. I’m meeting people, I’m blogging, I’m trying the social media thing.

Will it ever feel like enough?