Creator to Creators S2 Ep 17 Kathleen Garrett

In the fall of 2018, the world as I knew it imploded putting me on a collision course withcatastrophe and success. The catastrophe part was clear as a bell, the success…not so much. Inretrospect, I see that sometimes it takes an explosion and the ground to split in order to riseabove the demolition to resurrect and be on the path one is meant to be.Allow me to explain. At the time, I was represented by a prestigious agency by which, since Iwas a yearling, had always wanted to be repped. There’s a certain cache that comes with anagency’s status. It makes you feel you’re pissing with the big boyz-or girls, a status that reflects Ihave significance, therefore; I am.Work took off. I recurred on New York’s iconic shows, Law & Order and L&O SVU amongstother television gigs; was cast in a major feature film; and did theatre. Life was good, until theroles got fewer and the bookings leaner. After all, I was a woman “of a certain age”, and unlessyou’re a star, or “a name”, you’d better have a rich spouse or a real estate license ‘cause the oddsof being sought after by the Entertainment Industry at my age was less than being hit by lightenor the lottery. The calls got scarcer, the bookings fewer. Before long, that fateful phone callcame. “We love you, nothing personal, but you’re a female, (old since you’re over 40) andthere’s really no use for this heifer in our stable.” I was dropped.To put a perspective on the significance of losing theatrical representation for a middle-agedwoman, my dear friend, Brian Tarantina (who was on The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel and has sincepassed, sadly) said, “They dropped you? At this stage?!” Yeah, at this stage indeed because whois going to rep me now? No one, it seemed. I made multiple calls, most of which wentunanswered or, if they did reply, the answer was the same, “We have women in your categorywho we can’t get work. Now, if you were a woman of color, Indian, say, we’d be interested.”“I’ll tan,” I’d joke, but they ignored the humor. The way it looked, my career was over, done,finished without me making that choice.During all this, I was in an obsessive, lustful, met the-love-of-my-life, crazy-making relationship.Why is it the unhealthier the relationship the more addictive it is? I felt like I was dating crack.Needless to say, that blew up in my face along with my theatrical representation leaving me2tossed aside like roadkill. So many rugs were pulled out from under me the floor collapsed, andI was in freefall. No representation, no work, lost my health insurance, cyphering off my savings,and devasted with a broken heart. Life never looked bleaker.In the course of only 6 weeks, I lost 7 pounds, which I did not have to lose, my hair was fallingout, and my breasts looked like deflated helium balloons-which reflected my life conditionperfectly. One afternoon upon returning home, I dropped to my knees in utter despair weeping.Perhaps a good cry will help, I thought, until the crying wouldn’t cease. It becameuncontrollable. Is this a breakdown? The thought terrified me. Rising to my feet, fists clenchedlike Scarlett O’Hara, I repeated aloud, “I will not break down!” Finally, getting control of myemotions, my therapist’s voice echoed in my head, “Put one foot in front of the other and keepmoving your feet.” Drained, I chanted and prayed then reluctantly went back to making calls,sending emails, and went to Plan B, though there was no Plan B to go to.One never forgets acts of kindness, especially in despair.My commercial agent, David Elliot, said to me as I wept with humiliation in his office, “Yourvalue hasn’t changed.”“Did you not hear me, David? I was dropped by my theatrical reps. My value is lower than Iraqicurrency.”“Look at your body of work, your skill set. Your value hasn’t changed.” He led me into my othercommercial agent’s office, Michael Raymen, who, unbeknownst to me, was the president of theagents’ association. He set up an appointment with a prestigious office, parallel to the one thatgave me the boot. That meeting went well, very well, and my optimism ran high until I receiveda gracious, respectful rejection saying that because I wasn’t 20 something, had I been a womanof color, they would be very interested in signing me. Seemed like my value was paling.But I heeded the advice of my therapist, “Pray, chant, and keep moving your feet.” Reluctantly,with little faith in the process and in myself, I asked Michael for another recommendation. Asthe saying goes, 10 th time’s a charm.3These new agents said what I didn’t expect. They had no one like me, I embodied New Yorksophistication, intelligence, and chic. All I kept thinking was, But I’m a blue-collar, ItalianAmerican girl from Schenectady, though was wise enough not to verbalize that thought to them.They signed me, and a new, working relationship was born.Now, just over three years later, I recur as Judge Nina Larkin in season 1 of: POWER BOOK 2:GHOST, guest starred to critical acclaim on FBI, BILLIONS and THE DEUCE, won a SAGAWARD for my work in THE TRIAL OF THE CHICAGO 7, recently shot a HallmarkChristmas movie, am in the #1 video game in the world, HORIZON FORBIDDEN WEST. Andlast, but most exciting, I am in two of the most anticipated shows of 2022: recurring inINVENTING ANNA as Sasha Thomas, and THE FIRST LADY as Laura Bush opposite ViolaDavis’ Michelle Obama. Oh, and my dating life is rather hot now, too.Moral of the story: When the world seems to have lost faith in you, even when you lose faith inyourself, always believe in hope, move your feet; and never take no or any rejection as your finalanswer.Become a supporter of this podcast: https://www.spreaker.com/podcast/creator-to-creators-with-meosha-bean--4460322/support.