Working Actor

A few years ago, I put together a few of my funnier spoken word stories and created a comedic solo show about my tumultuous love life entitled David Dean Bottrell Makes Love: A One-Man Show. Much to my surprise, it proved to be a big underground hit and played for eighteen months in L.A. A couple of months into the run, the Los Angeles Times showed up and gave the show a very kind review. Needless to say, I was thrilled, but there was one comment that really bugged me. In the paragraph that introduced me to their readers, who’d perhaps never heard of me, I was referred to as “an L.A. actor-comedian-writer on the fringe of success.”

“The fringe of success”? Were they freaking kidding?

I had (for the most part) supported myself as a working professional in the enter­tainment industry—the world’s toughest industry to make a living in—for over thirty years. Yet apparently I was only on the “fringe” of success? Okay, granted, I was living in Los Angeles, a city utterly convinced that the only definition of a successful performer is a famous performer, but this unasked-for career assess­ment weirdly stung me to my core.

It got me thinking about what “success” in show business looks like. I suppose that, like a lot of artists, I’d been existing in that perpetual state of waiting; doing job after job while holding onto the idea that one of these days a very special, very particular gig would show up that would be the game changer, the job that would firmly plant me on the magical list of people who could expect to keep working consistently until they died. Of course, I knew that no such list actually exists, but show business is an industry fueled by far-reaching and seductive dreams.
That’s when I asked myself the big question: Had my dream already come true? Was I already living it?

Since I began this journey (over three decades ago), I’ve been fortunate to land enough writing and acting gigs to pay my bills, contribute to my retirement account, and take a modest vacation each year. In short, I’ve clawed my way to the middle. By most people’s standards, I guess that makes me a success. Like many of my peers, I leaped into the entertainment industry early in life without the slightest idea of what I was getting into. Having been at this for a while now, I actually know a few very famous and successful people. Because I also teach and mentor, each year I meet and work with a talented crop of hopeful newcomers, all champing at the bit for their shot at the big time. I consider myself lucky. My career choice has, for the most part, worked out well—but not without a few hard-learned lessons along the way. I am now (in the grand pecking order of show business) considered a veteran. And like most vets, I have a few war stories to tell.

So, after a fair amount of nail-biting, I decided to write this book about what to expect if you are contemplating a career in show business. Here on these tear-stained, blood-spattered pages, I’ll try to share the bigger lessons I have learned, along with a few things to avoid if possible. This is a book about making a living (and making a life) while trying to pursue a very particular dream.

I happen to love show business. Even with all its ups and downs, it still strikes me as a swell way to spend one’s life. If you approach the industry with a clear vision—to make your living creatively—I happen to believe it’s an achievable goal. As you will see in the upcoming pages, I’m probably one of the least-qualified candidates imaginable, but somehow, I did it—and continue to do it. Assuming you have tal­ent and a lot of determination, and you genuinely enjoy challenges, you can too.