I am no psychic, but I am willing to bet I can recall a moment from your past.
It’s Thanksgiving. You’re about to dive into a glorious pile of mashed potatoes when your mom’s cousin leans over and says, “So… how’s that singing thing going?”
Or you’re on break at rehearsal and your castmate casually asks, “What do you have lined up next?”
Maybe you’re grabbing coffee with an old friend who smiles and says, “When’s your next performance? I’d love to come!”
Innocent enough, right? But, when your calendar is quiet, or you’re struggling to feel proud of the work you’re doing, those questions can feel like a personal attack. I used to dream of the day when I could rattle off a jam-packed season– back-to-back gigs, world-class venues, glowing reviews– anything that would silence the doubt before it even had a chance to rise up.
That was, until a couple weeks ago.
I was seated at a pre-theater dinner party in a bustling Italian restaurant. The majority of the guests were older with careers outside of the arts, except for me, Toby and two brilliant actors. The wine and conversations were flowing– until someone loudly asked the actor on my left, “So… what’s next?”
My chest tightened– not just from secondhand discomfort, but from genuine surprise. I had always assumed that once you’ve played a titular role on Broadway, intrusive questions stop coming your way– that you’d somehow be exempt from the incessant pressure to prove yourself.
But, I was wrong.
Even at the highest levels, all artists are navigating the same emotional terrain—the inevitable downtime between gigs, the seemingly never ending stretches of uncertainty and the quiet dissonance between personal progress and external expectations. “What’s next?” spotlights the void, especially when you do have something going on whether it’s a gig, teaching job, concert, life…
After reflecting, here’s what I’ve gathered: a lot of the time, “what’s next?” questions are not coming from a place of judgment or condescension. Most people are simply excited and unaware of the instability that comes with building a career in the arts– but, that doesn’t mean we are obligated to smile through awkwardness. We each have the power to gently redirect the conversation in a way that’s more kind, curious and aligned with the reality of being a 21st century artist.
If you’re ever on the other side wondering how to make an artist feel seen, here are a few of my go-to questions:
- “Are you working on anything you’re excited about?”
- “What’s feeding you creatively these days?”
- “How can I follow your career?”
And if someone hits you with an unwanted “What’s next?”, try responding with an answer to one of these questions instead!
Your worth isn’t tied to your calendar. You, diva, are and always have been enough.
Your fellow diva,
Teddy
