the Art of Letting Go

Rewrites, Rethinks, and the Art of Letting Go
Control is the illusion. Commitment is the real power.

There’s a moment in every actor’s process where something gets ripped out from under you. A scene changes. A line you memorized down to the breath is gone. A rooftop becomes a pier. A confrontation you rehearsed for weeks gets rewritten the night before.

It happens.
And it’ll keep happening.
The industry doesn’t wait for you to be ready — it throws you into the fire and expects you to find oxygen.

The version of me that used to chase control hated this. I used to grip the script like it was gospel. But somewhere along the line — maybe after the third rewrite or the fourth emotional reset — I learned something that changed the game:

Control is not the goal. Presence is.
And you can’t be present if you’re clinging to what “should’ve been.”

Your job isn’t to protect the work. It’s to live inside it.

I’ve had roles where the page changed the night before rehearsal. Where the lines I’d been living with suddenly weren’t the lines anymore. And the temptation is always to panic. To hold on tighter. To mourn what you thought you’d say or how you thought it would go.

But the deeper truth?
The character doesn’t live in the words.
He lives in the intent. The objective. The wound. The truth that doesn’t need perfect dialogue to survive.

This is where Meisner saved me. Repetition drills trained me to listen, not recite. To respond truthfully in the moment, rather than forcing a result. And my foundation in Method acting helped anchor me in the emotional truth — so that no matter what changed externally, something inside stayed locked in.

The more rooted I became in the work, the freer I became inside the chaos.

When I let go of the blueprint, I found freedom.
When I stopped performing what I practiced and started responding to what was actually happening, the work stopped feeling like acting… and started feeling like something real.

The deeper you build it, the less it can be shaken.

I’ve prepped for characters who’ve been rewritten mid-process — and the ones I was fully connected to? Still lived. The words shifted, sure. But the heartbeat didn’t. The need. The tactics. The tension. All still there. Because I wasn’t faking it. I had built the foundation deep.

And that’s the work.

If your character only lives in the line — it’ll die in the rewrite.
But if your character lives in your body, in your history, in your intention… it doesn’t matter if the page changes.
You don’t break. You adapt. You breathe. You live through it.

Let go. And then go deeper.

So yeah, the rewrites are coming.
The pivots. The “new pages.” The moments where everything you thought you had locked in gets flipped.

Let it happen.

Because this job was never about control.
It was about truth.
And truth doesn’t care if it’s line 12 or a brand-new beat.

All that matters is that when the moment comes,
you show up real.

You don’t get ready for the moment. You become the moment.