The Waiting Game: What Theaters Owe Artists

In my March Insight, I told you about a disappointing in-person callback I had at an established Chicago regional theater. If you missed it, the short version: I prepared like crazy, walked into the room, got zero direction from the director, and walked back out into total silence. The casting director even warned me on the way in that the director hadn't offered direction to anyone in two days of callbacks. Not a single note.

That callback was in late February. I figured the ship had sailed.

Then, on April 2nd—more than a month after that silent room—my agent emailed. Casting had reached out. Was I still interested and available?

"For what? Understudy?" I asked.

No, my agent said. The role had been re-released. I was "strongly in the mix."

Let that sit for a second.

Something I had poured real preparation into—the self-tape, the voice lesson, the off-book work, the intel-gathering from a friend who'd auditioned the day before—had seemingly evaporated into nothing. I'd spent weeks moving on. Letting it go. And now here it was, back on the table.

Of course I said yes. I love the show, and I felt great about my callback. "Tell them I'm absolutely interested," I said to my agent.

But here's the thing I can't stop thinking about: Actors should not have to go through this. And it’s easily avoidable. 

The No-Man's Land Nobody Talks About

There's a particular kind of limbo that actors live in during the casting process. We prepare, we perform, and then we wait. And wait. And wait. With no information, no timeline, no acknowledgment of the work we put in so much effort for.

There's a particular kind of limbo that actors live in during the casting process. We prepare, we perform, and then we wait. And wait. And wait. With no information, no timeline, no acknowledgment of the work we put in so much effort for. 

How much do we let ourselves hope? How do we stay in an abundance mindset—genuinely open to booking the job, imagining that world—while also being realistic enough to plan our lives if it doesn't? That's a mental and emotional tightrope walk that nobody outside of this industry fully understands.

This is, at its core, a communication problem.

What I've Learned Inside Fortune 500 Companies

At my day job, I've spent the past two years inside some of the largest companies in the world, working with directors of communication, senior executives, and leadership teams. 

The through-line in all of it? Communication isn't a nice-to-have. It's a reflection of your company’s values. 

Clear, consistent, timely communication tells people—employees, donors, partners, clients—that they matter. That their time matters. That the relationship matters.

Now let me tell you how theaters communicate with actors during the casting process.

They don’t.

I have talked to actors who have never—not once—received any communication after a callback. Not an email. Not a note through their agent. Nothing. The silence itself becomes the answer, and it’s only because enough time has passed that you just ... figure they’ve moved on. And you figure this out all on your own. 

Now, I remember when that wasn't the case. I remember phone calls. I remember typed letters—actual letters in the mail!—letting me know the role had gone another way. That's not nostalgia talking. That's communication that said: We see you, we value your time, and here's the courtesy of a real answer.

The Excuses Don't Hold Up

I've heard the reasons for why theaters don't communicate. I've heard the reasons casting directors give. Here's what comes up the most:

"There are just too many actors to reach out to, and our staff is too busy."

"That's just the way it is in this business."

"We always let agents know when we are cast."

"TV shows never email actors either."

Let's take these one at a time.

Too many actors, not enough staff. I hear that. I really do. Theaters run lean. But we're talking about a two-sentence email: Thank you so much for your time and interest in [Production]. The role has been filled, but we hope to work with you in the future. That's it. That's the whole email. The technology exists. The time exists. The question is whether it's a priority.

That's just the way it is. This is the one that gets me the most. Because that’s not a reason. That’s tradition being mistaken for logic. The fact that something has always been done a certain way does not make it right. The industry has shifted dramatically in the past several years. We now do the bulk of our auditioning remotely. Casting directors and actors have less in-person contact than ever before. If there was ever a moment to double down on communication, to create a process that honors the artist's effort, this is it.

We let agents know. Great. Agents represent multiple actors. What about the actor who doesn't have an agent? What about the actor who came in off an equity principal audition? What about the working actor with representation who still deserves to hear something directly?

TV shows don't do it either. You're right. They don't. And it's one of the things that makes the self-tape world feel so transactional and isolating. Theaters have always held themselves to a different standard. They exist for the art. For the artist. Shouldn't that translate into their communication processes?

What This Is Really About

Theaters thank their donors. They thank their patrons. They have full communication plans for the people who write the checks.

Actors deserve the same consideration. After all … without us, there is no show. There is no theater. There is no art.

If a theater truly values artists—not just in their mission statement language, but in a genuine organizational commitment and practice—then thanking actors for their time after a callback should be business as usual. Full stop.

This isn't about me feeling entitled to good news. I've been doing this long enough to handle a "no." What I'm talking about is a simple, human acknowledgment that I showed up, I prepared, I was vulnerable, and I gave you something real in that room. That deserves a response.

Right now, theaters have the opportunity to be different from the cold, transactional world of self-taping. They can be the place where artists feel genuinely seen and respected throughout the entire process—from audition to callback to cast, or from callback to released and thanked.

That's a choice. I hope more theaters choose it.