My first experience with theatre was when I was six years old. I played a character called Mr. Tall in my class play. I don’t remember anything about the show except that I walked onstage, said my first line, and got a huge laugh. I was hooked. I did as much theatre as it was possible to do in my sleepy little home town (not much), and managed to get a partial theatre scholarship to college.

When I started college, I was as thin as a rail and looked like I was about 14. I suppose it isn’t surprising that I didn’t get cast in significant parts in the first few shows we did. But the program was a small one, and consequently, there wasn’t that much competition. Nevertheless, it broke my heart when I didn’t get cast in our production of Medea. It’s probably true for almost all actors, but particularly very young ones, that when you aren’t cast in a show, it feels like a very personal statement that there is something about you that just isn’t good enough – that you are inherently flawed in some way. The AD was a sophomore and a friend of mine. He told me in confidence that the director really struggled with the casting decision, and ultimately said, “Kevin is so talented, he’s going to be cast all the time.” That really didn’t console me. I could imagine that being said every time a show was cast.

It’s been both a blessing and a curse that I have so many interests. I think people who are really successful usually focus on one thing to the exclusion of all others, and I certainly don’t have a history of that. I changed schools and majors, and "focused" on playing guitar for the next several years. Eventually, I got back into theatre, and it seems that lately, I *have* focused on that to the exclusion of everything else. And, lo and behold, auditions are coming up for a production of Medea. It would be the closing of a big circle to play Jason in this production, putting that college experience behind me.

And yet, of course, there’s another wrinkle.

A year or two ago, I was worrying that during my divorce from theatre, I'd aged out of the chance to play a lot of the great roles. This was underscored when I didn't get Henry in a recent production of Henry V (never mind that, in my opinion, the actor who played the role reads significantly older than I do). But I really freaked out when I was offered the role of Leonato in Much Ado. It’s a great role, of course, but I think he needs to be older (it's relevant to the action of the play, when Leonato challenges Claudio to a duel. That scene is very different with a younger Leonato.) To put it in the context of the seven stages of man from As You Like It, I think Leonato is a pantaloon. I still see myself as a soldier, but of course, being offered Leonato made me doubt myself. And then, of course, I started listing off roles I really want to play that I’d never be able to do because it wouldn't be age-appropriate. I was extremely anxious (and that’s putting it mildly) when I auditioned for Mercutio in Romeo and Juliet. In fact, I was quite certain I hadn’t gotten the part for a few weeks. In the end, I did get the role, and I'm pretty proud of the work I did. I received some really wonderful compliments from several people whose opinions I value highly, and the show was a great experience.

A few seconds ago, I sent an e-mail cancelling my audition for Medea. I’ve been offered the role of Giovanni in ‘Tis Pity She’s a Whore. I never would have seen myself in this role, because of my age. And I think the production is going to be fantastic. I’m excited to be working with each member of the cast that I know, I'm confident that the actors I don't know will bring it, and I have the sense that the direction is going to help me do the best work I can do. So instead of having a chance to play the role that I left acting over, I’ve turned down a shot at that role for one that I’m even more excited about, one that I didn’t think was even available to me.  It’s an even better way to close the chapter than I’d imagined.