Major Turning Point For Me

It's been an amazing year already. I still am walking about 4 inches off the ground at all times. So what's been going on? I'm just home from an amazing trip up to Minnesota. I saw Coleen and Tim get married (Awesome). I saw the Twins lose (Not so awesome) - but it was still one of their last games in the Homerdome (Can't wait for the new open air stadium next year - anyone know anybody that can help me get on the National Anthem docket sometime?).

Had an amazing concert experience at Rochester Covenant Church - the people were so overwhelmingly loving (special thanks to Pat & Ray!). Also had a very special time at the Bleeker's house doing an extremely intimate concert in their living room for a great group of people. My singing was fueled by some unbelievable ribs and fixins eaten on the back patio on a terrific MN summer evening.

Honestly, this trip was a major turning point for me. I'll try to explain it.

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My 2nd Music Video....Seriously?

If you would've told me a year ago that I'd get to have a music video shot of one of the most favorite songs I've ever written, I would've said you're crazy. Ok. So that dream came true. Read about it here. But if you would've told me that within a year I'd get to shoot a second music video for another of my tunes, oh and by the way, both tunes would be used in really cool ways in a couple different movies, I'd probably bet money against that happening. Well let's just say: don't ever sell God too short. The dreams he has for you are actually bigger than the ones you have for yourself.

With that being said, it's been an amazing year. And I wanted you to get a chance to see my brand new music video. Last fall I decided I wanted to write a Christmas song. But I didn't want just another normal holiday "isn't everything so great" kind of tune. I know the holidays are one of the most difficult times of year for many people. So I sat down and wrote: "Just another lonely holiday, never thought it would turn out this way." Cheery, right? Then I decided to turn it into a prayer: "Come into my silence and bring me peace. Come into my darkness and be my light. Come into what's broken and make it whole again." Then my friend, the amazingly talented Tim Brown, put some great music and production to the words. A little while later he offered, "Hey, wanna shoot a music video?" After a little Photoshop for the wedding picture, a hot summer day, and a dozen tolerant neighbors later, we had a video.

The tune is also going to be used in the holiday movie "The Perfect Gift" - yes, the same one I'm making my motion picture acting debut in. I feel very blessed. And a bit freaked out all at the same time.

Wanna see it? Hope you like it. And more importantly, I hope it will be encouraging to people who don't have much to smile about at Christmas.

I believe in fighting against my apathy.

I believe in fighting against my apathy. This is, or should be, a life of choices.

I am essentially a very ambitious person. I'm a creative dreamer. I moved to Nashville in 1993 to go after my dreams of doing music just like some of my heroes. It's been an amazing journey. I find myself wearing the different hats of singer/songwriter, author/journalist, and am even acting in my first film. But being the freelance, or self-unemployed, kind of person I am, I have so many options of ways to spend my time. Heck, I've got a stack of really amazing creative projects I could be working on right now.

But I've been down this road before. I've mustered up my energy and written pages and pages of books...that have gone unread by thousands and thousands of people. I've written and recorded songs that have been heard only by my family and a handful of friends. When I think of all I've created and worked toward, without achieving what feels like any tangible results, or getting any place I thought I’d be, it's often impossible not to throw my hands up and say, "What's the use of even trying?" It's a subtle, but completely paralyzing, one-two punch of apathy.

Apathy is a lack of interest, concern, or emotion. It's a flat-lined, comatose-like state of living that feels like nothing. Literally nothing. It's the muse-less artist. You know, the washed up old guy who drinks too much, and gawks a bit too long at the younger, good-looking hipsters. I pray I don't turn into that kind of person.

But if I were completely honest, I've made good friends with apathy. Oh, yes. It's an odd place of comfort. If I don't try to achieve anything, then I can't be hurt by being ignored or rejected. There's a comfort in nothingness, almost a sense of my being able to control my own destiny. When I can't choose success, I can at least choose apathy.. At least then I am in control, I am choosing.

Thankfully, I can only stay there so long, before I get stir crazy. The gift of maturity is learning how to engage my psyche in positive, healthy ways, rather than settling for what's easy or unhealthy. If I'm hungry, sometimes the shiny allure of the Golden Arches can actually be appealing. Unless I remember the gut ache I got after my last visit. Or how much better I'd feel if I'd eat something healthier. I've tried shame and addiction, and they never really worked very well for me. Apathy is easier, but no more satisfying.

I've found the best ways to fight my apathy are: Walking in honesty with my friends--relying on their encouragement and strength when I have none, exercising regularly and eating right, trying to do the most simple next-right-thing, and most importantly, allowing myself the same kind of grace and patience I would extend to someone else in my shoes. It's a quiet, one step at a time, kind of battle against apathy. One I will continue to choose to fight.

Because ultimately, I really like me, and the things I create. I think I bring value to other people's lives. I believe my creative efforts will ultimately help wake up other people who have fallen asleep to their own lives. That's why I believe it’s so important for me to fight against my own apathy.

I don't want to be silly, per Oprah

I've been thinking about Oprah a lot this week. My sister taught me a good lesson that Oprah taught her. She said: Success is When Preparation Meets Opportunity. I can't help but think this "Clancy" movie has already been an amazing opportunity, but with people actually having the chance to go see it, the opportunity gains more and more value. I hope a ton of people go out to see it this weekend, and that they are inspired and encouraged—and that they cry when they hear my song "Precious Memories." So, I've been trying to get prepared. But how in the world do you prepare for something like this?

There have been a couple of options for me this week: 1) Dismiss it as really nothing. I'm blowing things out of proportion by even getting excited about the what-might-happens, 2) Work hard on preparing my website and music just in case all the stars line up and there's suddenly interest in my tune.

It's so easy to pick #1—I'm very familiar with this one. Why work hard at something so hard, knowing the chances are extremely slim that anything out of the ordinary will ever happen? It's so much easier to act like I don't care. But in truth, I care a ton about what happens with my career. Heck, I've worked a lot of years, and swam through a lot of murky waters, trying to locate amazing opportunities—like getting an original song placed in PRIME location in a film shown in theaters around the country.

Even writing this, I'm tempted to think I'm just being stupid. "Don't get your hopes up. You'll only be disappointed," the voices say. But I'm convinced there's a huge difference between having false expectations of great things happening and being fully prepared for those great things that could possibly happen.

I'd hate to be the person that wasn't ready, just because he thought he was being silly.

P.S. Check out: www.PreciousMemoriesTribute.com

Movie-Making Weekend 2 - A Big Success!

This past weekend I got to go back to Louisville for another day of shooting on "The Perfect Gift." I had such an amazing time, even though the day was long and laborious. We were basically shooting about seven pages of one scene throughout the entire day. And of course, the whole thing was shot backwards, so there was no rhyme or reason to much of it.

I got there about 9:30 Saturday morning, after experiencing a delicious omelet at the Embassy Suites. I had brought most of my closet with me, so the director Jefferson would have his pick of what I would be wearing. After getting dressed, I got to sit down in the hair chair. I don't really know what she did there, but she sprayed some stuff and combed something. Then I got to sit with the wonderful Cassie in the makeup chair. She's so amazing—so calming, so loving, and encouraging. Everything a nervous actor needs.

While in the chair, I could look out the window and see a huge group of people moving across the parking lot. I said, "Hmm...look at all those people! I wonder what they're doing?" Cassie said, "Those are the extras for the shoot today." That immediately jazzed me up. I've been an extra on so many shoots. I know how miserable it can be. How thankless. And how much you feel like a dumb sheep being herded around and generally treated like crap. And how it feels to look up and see the "important" people getting to do the real acting...and wonder if I'd ever get that chance.

My first motion picture extra work was in the early 90s, in the not-yet-classic film "Drop Dead Fred" starring Phoebe Cates, a guy who was on "ER" (Ron Eldred, I think) and another guy who was in the British sitcom, "The Young Ones." I got to be in a giant food fight scene that took place in a swanky downtown Minneapolis restaurant. I was in prime position. When the camera was on Phoebe eating dinner, I was directly behind her. You could totally see the back of my head. It was awesome. My big break, I was certain. I discovered if I "reacted" a bit to the commotion, and turned my head, you would probably see my actual face. I did a lot of sideways glances that day. Can you imagine how thrilled I was when the director actually came over to my table. I leaned toward him. He graciously whispered in my ear, "Don't turn around so much." There goes my Oscar. (Though the side of my head did make it onto the back of the DVD box. Score!)

This past weekend was surreal in so many ways. I wasn't an extra. I actually had a very sizeable role in this scene. I play the antagonist in the film, and this was my big day to present my case to the City Council. I pretended to be Harry Hamlin in "L.A. Law"—but don't tell anybody I told you that. We shot the crowd scenes first, a lot of "over my shoulder" looking at the crowd kind of stuff. Then at the end of the day, we did my medium and close-up shots. For those shots, the extras were gone, and I acted to a few crew people, and in my head, my high school drama teacher Mr. Fortney, who let me be the only guy he didn't cast in "Pippin," my senior year musical. More on that later.

During the shoot, I also realized the value of kindness, and how incredibly easy it can be to show some. I pictured myself as an extra, hoping that Phoebe Cates would even just make eye contact with me—to acknowledge my existence as a fellow actor, much less a fellow person. So Smeby decided to not be Phoebe. I had some awesome conversations with some of the fellow actor/people working that day. I was honored to hear about Steve's son, Nils' desire to act, and Evan's passion for writing and teaching. I was also thrilled to mostly remember all my lines.

Overall, I was blown away by the attitude on the set. It was an attitude of encouragement—people would actually clap for each other between takes. Jefferson was an amazing director/writer/actor—continually being gracious to everyone, especially as he'd explain the process of filmmaking to those who were on their first set.

I left feeling on top of the world. There had been a terrible snow and ice storm while we were shooting inside the City Hall, but I managed to lug all my clothes back into my trunk, scrape off my car, and once back in my hotel room, celebrate an amazing day with some delicious mint chocolate chip ice cream. This joy, this gratitude, this blown-awayness—of having received an opportunity I've only dreamed of—feels like incredible success.