One of my favorite new rabbit holes to fall into is Broadway.com’s series (years old now, but I’ve just discovered it) where they give a camera to a Broadway star for eight weeks, and the viewer gets to see the behind-the-scenes activity that goes into making a production. Because it’s a different cast member each time, even if the production is the same (they seem to like following “Wicked” cast members, for instance), there’s a different spin on it.

Being a theater nerd myself, I love this backstage access. For one, it proves that, no matter the size or type of production (professional, community theater, school production), actors and techies are pretty much the same all around. I also like hearing the stories of those who many of us would consider having “made it” in the industry and the struggles they had, even after being “a Broadway actor.”

An interesting piece of advice I heard when I was watching Jonah Platt, who played Fiyero in “Wicked.” He’s mostly a writer (LIKE ME!) and has many credits on IMDB for being a writer’s assistant on TV shows like “The Office” and “Family Guy.” One of the viewers sent in a question about auditioning, and he said that he keeps in mind that “You probably won’t book the job,” which frees him up to do his best, but not be crushed by disappointment.

I think that’s something that’s easy to forget, as creative people. Most creative work tends to be met with rejection. Almost all of our work won’t pay off, even if we’re tremendously successful. Actors who are in highly-rated series for a few years may never work again, and writers who had a best-selling book may never hit the top of the New York Times bestseller list. It only takes one hit to “make it,” but that may be the only thing that ever happens.

This can be tremendously de-motivational to many people. I know I’ve felt that tug of, “Is it all worth it?” whenever I’ve put my heart and soul into a play I’ve written, only to have producers reject it for a festival, or made a video that took hours and hours of editing, only to be met with a resounding, “Meh,” from the YouTube universe. So why persist, if most of the time, it won’t work out?

For me, it’s because the work itself is worth it. I’ve been telling stories since I was able to speak, and the drive to keep telling stories is greater than the drive for almost anything else. What format those stories are told in has changed over the years…I’ve written short stories…check out a book I wrote of 26 short stories over 10 years ago:

I’ve also written and performed in plays, improv comedy, and now YouTube. Most of the time, it hasn’t paid me much. In fact, if I just put the money I spent on any of these creative endeavors into an investment account, I probably could buy a house at this point, but that’s not why I do it.

We all have our reasons for creating, but if “success” is always tied to monetary gains or audience size, I wonder how much persistence can pay off for the average creator. Most of the time, persistence results in a pile of our work to look back upon, and that has to be enough.