I was talking with one of my besties a couple of weeks ago and we began discussing patterns in lessons we’ve had in our decades in this industry.

We noticed that we both — and, the more we talked about it, many others we know — have had many opportunities to learn the same dang thing (albeit usually at another level) many times over in this business.

For example, the third feature film I signed on to cast “never went.” This year, the highest-budget feature film I had ever signed on to cast “never went.” Damn. Same lesson, different year. Different people, different budget level. Different quality, different stakes. Same dang lesson: Indie film is not a sure thing. Ever. And if the casting director who takes a risk on a first-time filmmaker ever earns a penny of the salary she’s promised, that’s a very lucky thing.

Now, before I start tearing into myself for believing in someone else’s dream too often, let me state for the record that there are absolutely lessons I learned only once in this business, because I GOT IT the first time out.

For instance, the second project I ever agreed to cast on my own was a short film produced to raise money for the feature-length version of the same film. I believed them when they told me I’d work for free on the short and then make loads of money on the feature. I worked for weeks, turned out a breakdown, created and handed over carefully-ranked lists, provided contacts based on my relationships, discussed casting ideas that originated right in my head… and today — five years later — the feature film is being produced without me. Oh, and because I jumped ahead there, let me be clear: The SHORT was also produced without me.

See, I did all of that work without a contract. I believed the producer when he told me I was his casting director for both projects. Contracts? We don’t need no stinkin’ contracts! Right. And while I think my colleague who did cast the short and who is certainly attached to cast the feature film (or not; maybe they screwed him too) is awesome and did a great job WITH MY FREAKIN’ LIST on the short film, the lesson got learned right then and there: Never work without a contract. Not one day. NEVER. No matter what. Period.

And because I learned that lesson, the few times when an indie film I’ve believed in has crapped out (for whatever reason), I’ve at least gotten paid for my work. Whether the money I’ve earned has ever paid for the amount of damage control required on my relationships with agents and managers whose clients moved forward in good faith on contracts for paid work remains to be seen. I’m sure there are some agents out there who will make it much more difficult for the next producer with whom I work, simply because a deal went bad. Still, lesson learned. It now takes more and more “for sures” being in place to do each new deal in my casting career (unless it’s with someone for whom I’ve worked before, of course), because it’s my reputation at stake with the talent and the representatives once that breakdown goes out.

So, okay, some lessons we learn and learn well, right away. Others we sort of learn or we learn at a certain level and then we find ourselves years later facing a strangely familiar situation and wondering if we really learned that lesson the first time or if we did but needed to learn it at a different level this time.

Really, it’s a spiral we’re living on. The spiral is a road that circles up and up (gosh, hopefully. I guess for some it circles down and down, but that’s not what this column is about). Sometimes the lesson is a pothole we fill, just by virtue of experiencing the lesson. Other times, the lesson is a pothole we step over, and that divot remains when we do the next lap on the spiral. Only now the pothole is deeper, the stakes are higher, the lesson feels harsher because we’re pretty sure we should’ve learned it the last time around.

So, what do we do, when staring down the business end of a lesson we’re sure we should’ve already learned?

Y’know, you’re an actor in a class and your coach has become a diva. He takes pride in crushing egos and building actors back up again (in his image, using his method). You’re sitting there thinking, “Wasn’t my last coach a yutz like this? Didn’t I leave that coach for this coach because I was so OVER working with instructors who have a god complex?” Or you’re an actor who has agreed to be a part of a film, you’ve read the script, you like the role, you dig the people involved, and now you’re on set and they’re asking you to take your clothes off. That wasn’t part of the deal and it wasn’t part of the deal on your last film either, yet it happened then too. What the heck? Why does this keep happening?

Well, it keeps happening because there will always be people who overextend their reach. They’re sure they can “get there” (wherever “there” is) and because they really, really believe it, sometimes you do too. Sure, there may be scammers and shady operators in the mix, but generally we’re encountering well-meaning folks who just don’t know any better. They don’t know that they don’t have (and cannot obtain) the money to complete production on their film. They don’t believe they can instruct craft without busting egos first. They don’t feel they could ever get someone to agree to do nudity without tricking them into it.

Most importantly, when you find yourself facing a lesson you could’ve sworn you learned previously, is that you let yourself off the hook for having “been there, done that.” The temptation will absolutely be that you beat yourself up over how you “should’ve known better.” Get over that. For whatever reason, you didn’t learn the lesson deeply enough last time (perhaps because you weren’t ready to do so, then), and now you have the opportunity to GET IT. Good. Get it this time.

Lessons are awesome and life is filled with them. Next time you find yourself having an idea stolen and pitched by someone you trusted, grab the lesson from the experience (sue the bastards if you need to), list out ways you could’ve avoided this so that you take proper precautions next time, and know you’ll recognize the red flags a heck of a lot sooner should you ever find yourself in this situation again.

As I tell producers with whom I’m discussing potential collaborations, “Everything in my deal memo comes from something I learned I needed to protect myself against on a previous project.” And if my deal memo scares someone off, that’s not someone I would’ve wanted to work with anyway. Terrified because I require a finished copy of the film on DVD? Upset that my fee is plus expenses? Worried about my need to be certain my name actually appears in the credits of the film? Seriously. Who needs to work with folks who would find those things to be appalling deal-breakers, when the true pros out there understand and provide all of these things and more?

You can do the same thing. Make your list of what your lessons have already taught you, so that you’re not faced with them as deeply next time around on the spiral. And when you do find yourself experiencing the same lesson at a different level, enjoy that you’re at a different level! That’s important in this town and in this business! Be grateful for every lesson and move on up. That’s the direction you’re going, right?

Bonnie Gillespie is living her dreams by helping others figure out how to live theirs. Wanna work with Bon? Start here. Thanks!

Originally published by Actors Access at http://more.showfax.com/columns/avoice/archives/000923.html. Please support the many wonderful resources provided by the Breakdown Services family. This posting is the author’s personal archive.