What Young Artists Are Really Asking Right Now

Happy Friday 👋🏼 There were some weighty headlines in theater news this week.

Jesse Green being bumped from his role as chief critic at The New York Times. Bootleg discourse reignited by a pack of rabid Heathers fans. GYPSY announcing its closing notice—just to name a few.

And yes, I have thoughts. Maybe a hot take or two. Some of my pals have already offered smart, thoughtful discourse (Katherine Quinn’s convo with Kate and Mickey was A+). But I want to give myself time to marinate. As always, I want what I share to feel zoomed-out—and to honor the inherent nuance of each story. So, more on that soon.

In the meantime, I was lucky enough to sit down with a group of young artists for a Q&A this week as a part of Actor Therapy’s Summer Intensive. And honestly? It was inspiring. Enlightening. A reminder of why I do this in the first place.

They came with real questions. Not just about performance, but about how the industry works—what’s worth investing in, how to build relationships, what it means to be seen.

So I thought I’d share a few of the big themes that came up. Because they’re questions a lot of us are still asking—whether we’re just starting out, or somewhere deep in the middle.

Let’s get into it.

The Press Isn’t a Monolith (It’s a Machine)

One of the first questions I got was about the evolution of Broadway.com and Playbill—and I realized just how little most artists (especially young ones) know about how these outlets actually function.

So here’s the quick version:

• Playbill is a family-run business. The Birsh family has been at the helm for over 60 years, and yes, they still run it today. Its primary revenue comes from advertising—both in the printed programs and on the website. They also offer cruises, sponsor events, and run travel experiences. Playbill isn’t a newsroom in the traditional sense—it’s a brand-driven business. And their editorial priorities reflect that.

• Broadway.com is owned by the John Gore Organization, which also owns Broadway Across America, BroadwayBox, and other ticketing outlets. Their goal is straightforward: sell tickets. The majority of their editorial content—including the syndicated Broadway Show—exists to support that mission. Shows they don’t sell tickets for (including many Off-Broadway or independent productions) often don’t get featured, not because they aren’t good, but because they’re not part of the business model.

That’s not scandal—it’s structure.

And I don’t say any of this to diminish the coverage these outlets provide. In fact, I love a lot of it! But if you’re an artist dreaming of “press,” it’s worth remembering: press is part of the ecosystem, but it’s not neutral. There are people behind the curtain. There are goals behind the posts. And many of those goals have less to do with artistry and more to do with distribution, revenue, and reach.

It’s all context. And the more you understand it, the less likely you are to take it personally—or put your worth in the hands of platforms that were never designed to validate your soul.

From Fan to Peer: Bridging the Gap

Another theme that came up was relationship-building. Not in the LinkedIn-networking sense—but the real kind. The kind that sustains you through slow seasons. The kind that leads to opportunities you couldn’t possibly plan for.

One student asked how to transition from fan to peer—how to connect with someone you admire without coming off as disingenuous or transactional. And I get that. I’ve been there.

Here’s what I said:

• Always lead with respect. That’s non-negotiable.

• Honor the context. A red carpet is not a dinner table. A DM is not a dialogue. Some spaces are built for connection. Others are built for content. Knowing the difference is emotional intelligence.

• Don’t pedestal people. You can admire someone’s work without diminishing your own. If you want to be seen as a peer, you have to start by seeing yourself that way.

For me, that even meant drawing small boundaries—like not asking for selfies. Not because I’m above it. But because I knew I had to preserve the illusion (for myself, if nothing else) that I could one day share a stage or a screen with the people I was meeting.

We all crave community. And when you’re just starting out, that can be easy to fake—or hard to find. But the real stuff? It’s not built on flattery or fandom. It’s built on shared values. Shared meals. Shared seasons of life. It’s slow. But it lasts.

What You Make Will Make You

Another question that came up was about online presence. What should I post? What should I delete? Do I need a website? Should I be on TikTok? Should I care about followers?

And underneath all of that was a more fundamental concern: Am I doing this right?

Here’s the answer I gave—and the one I keep coming back to:

You don’t need to be everywhere. But you do need to be findable.

If you want to be considered for work, especially early in your career, it helps when someone can Google you and see something. A video of you singing. A monologue. A short film. Even a personal website with your name and headshot. It doesn’t need to be perfect. It just needs to exist. Because visibility isn’t vanity—it’s access. And people can’t advocate for what they can’t see.

But beyond that, here’s what I believe: Don’t wait to be cast in something to start creating.

The projects I made on my own—red carpets, weird sketches, random videos with friends—led directly to opportunities I couldn’t have planned. The team that cast me in Hedwig knew I could improvise because they’d seen my self-produced clips. I landed freelance work, marketing roles, and even a full-time job because of skills I developed while making stuff for fun.

Creation breeds momentum.

And no, you don’t need to make content if you hate it. But if there’s something you like doing—writing, editing, designing, filming, storytelling—do it. Not for the algorithm. For the muscle. For the proof of concept. For the practice of putting something into the world and saying, This is what I can do.

Because that energy is reciprocal. The more you put out, the more returns to you. Not always immediately. Not always in the way you expect. But it adds up.

And when it comes to followers? Here’s the truth: Sometimes it matters. Sometimes it doesn’t. Yes, there are casting decisions influenced by reach. But talent, timing, and community matter more.

So if you're going to invest your time anywhere, make it count. Not toward chasing numbers. Toward building skills, making work you're proud of, and becoming the kind of artist you’d want to collaborate with.

One Last Thing…

I’m currently leading an Off-Broadway show in New York.

That sentence still feels surreal. It’s a version of the dream I’ve had since I was a kid. And in so many ways, it’s come true: I’m performing in a beautiful, heartfelt musical. The response has been overwhelming. People are being moved. I can feel it, every night. And I’m proud—truly proud—of the work I’m doing.

But also?

I haven’t met my new (and first) nephew yet. I don’t have a social life right now. Most of my days revolve around rest—vocal, physical, emotional. And the theater? It’s a 78-seat space in the basement of an old bank in the West Village.

There are no billboards. No press junkets. No viral clips. Just us. Onstage. Doing the thing.

And that’s the truth behind so many “success stories.” Not the version we post, or pitch, or put in a press release. The real version. The quiet version. The version with tradeoffs and tenderness.

As with most things lately, it’s a reminder of how many things can be true at once. It can be magical and mundane. Life-changing and exhausting. Sacred and small. A dream come true, and just another chapter.

A moment in the woods.

See you next week ♥️