While having met and/or known a slew of actors in my life - from those who've yet to have a single professional credit on their resume, to the likes of actors famous globally (Betty White to George Clooney, Chris Hemsworth to Sandra Bullock, Dick Van Dyke to Bradley Cooper, John to Jason Ritter, Lana Turner to Carol Burnett, Eric Idle to Diane Keaton, Ryan Kwanten to Jesse Tyler Ferguson, Cyndi Lauper to Hugh Dancy, Ian Somerhalder to Matthew Broderick, John Stamos to Johnny Galecki, Larry Hagman to Leonard Nimoy, and many more - and yes, I know name-dropping is a veritable sin in Los Angeles, so please forgive me; that wasn't my goal) and everyone in between, what I think I've noticed most about the price of celebrity is how fast it can make you forget who you are.
More importantly, where you've come from.
And maybe MOST importantly, how fame can teach you to remember only where you are now.
This is one of the themes I really want to explore in "Candyland" - and in fact have already come across, big-time, just in the marketing of the series. While I've let the writing speak for itself and the feedback has been phenomenal from those who have taken the time to even explore the first couple of episodes - as well as the Twitter and Facebook support from actors and artists such as Kenton Duty, Wendi McLendon-Covey, Brad Everett Young, Jeff Hephner, Greg Louganis, Gren Wells, Michael Cerveris, Danny John-Jules, Bronson Pelletier, Nick Jaine, Jackson Hurst, Robbie Kay, Rocky Tayeh, the writing staff of "The Mysteries of Laura", Carlos Pratts, Johnny Ortiz, George Mahood, Q. Allan Brocka, and more - what I find even more telling are those who seem to have forgotten what it was like to be that struggling actor or writer or musician, working yourself ragged to get the attention of someone either whose work you admire, or who may even be able to help you get just one - single - solitary rung further up that ladder of success themselves, if for no other reason than in honor of someone who helped them when they needed it most.
Sadly, that's not how it works. And I'm not just talking about myself or my own work, by any means (though trust me, in the LGBT community it's even worse; your best shot at getting acknowledged, let alone supported, as a struggling artist there is by being young, good-looking, and showing some skin). On Facebook and Twitter alone, I follow bands and singers and YouTubers and actors no one would yet (emphasis: YET) even know by name, but in each and every instance I do so because there is something about them that's special - that deserves attention; a spark that will maybe help get them where they need to go, if they persevere. Were I in a better place to help I would, and in fact you will find a few of them featured on this blog, as my way of saying "THIS is something/someone you should check out."
But while Facebook and Twitter abound with charitable causes and Kickstarter campaigns and political endorsements or government corruption or the state of the environment around the world (which is the best part of both sites) ... I still find it sad when a celebrity posts the view outside their airplane window, or what they had for dinner, or the goofy resting bitchy face of their pitbull - over, instead, maybe taking a few minutes to watch a post from that new YouTuber ... listen to that indie band's new release ... check out the new play in that hole-in-the-wall theater near you ... hell, even actually READ an episode or two of "Candyland" ... and not only remember where you came from, but also realize maybe you can have a hand in helping a struggling artist you like, or believe in, get another step closer to where you are.
Just something to think about. Something I really hope to address in "Candyland", as well. And something I will never, ever forget - because no matter where my own work may or may not take me, I will never forget to acknowledge those who were supportive ... or those who are talented and therefore deserving of YOUR support, too, if only you'd take the time to know it.
