"They Get All The Breaks" : Rivalry & Competition in Theatre

by Chance Morgan, Guest Editorial

There’s something about competition that invigorates all of us. The thrill of the struggle, the primal satisfaction of outperforming an opponent, the euphoria of victory. We all love it in one way or another. Hell, look at the popularity of sports. Every professional sports league in America is worth billions and attracts millions of devout fans every year, many of whom are perfectly willing to inflict violence on other human beings simply for supporting the wrong team. They are all there in celebration of competition.

As artists, our methods of competition are subtler and quieter. Job boards, networking, social functions, and auditions are all forms of competition. We work to be the best, the greatest, the most qualified, the most deserving. It’s the endgame of our training: to be the best we can be. We work tirelessly to improve, develop, expand our skills, and get the work we want. Blood, sweat, toil, and tears, as the saying goes.

And then someone else gets it. The big role, the great gig, the scholarship, the attention, the glory, the opportunity, the big break. I’m sure you’re with me when I state the obvious: it sucks.

It seems like everywhere we turn, some lucky jerk is getting the opportunities we feel we deserve. Guess what: that will happen a lot. That does not mean you are less talented, dedicated, or deserving. Quite often, it is about things beyond your control. Someone knew the right person, had the right look, or happened to connect with the person in charge.

Sometimes, it is for nastier reasons, like bias or pettiness. Sometimes, it’s nothing more complex than luck. It happens. It sucks. You can cry, scream, pull your hair out, eat something fattening, get wasted, or vent to your bestie.

However, only one response will provide a productive solution: get yourself back in control, dust yourself off, and try again. It’s one of the oldest clichés in the world, but every cliché has a note of truth in it. Leave the other person with their win and keep going.

Then there is personal competition. The artistic world is very small. Once you get out in it, you’ll be amazed by who knows whom, and odds are good you’ll run into some people repeatedly. The person who, in your eyes, “gets all the breaks” may be someone you know and must contend with again and again. Congratulations, you have a rival.

Culturally, we love the idea of the rival: the equally matched opponent, the evil twin, the spoiled rich kids from across town. From ancient mythology to comic books to rap feuds, we are enamored with the idea of having a rival.

Interestingly, rivalry can be one-way. Back in college, I had a rival. Because I like to consider myself somewhat mature, and because it was a VERY small program, I will not name names. Most people who knew me then could probably make a good guess, but their identity isn’t important. What matters is that I spent a ridiculous amount of time trash-talking them behind closed doors, venting to anyone who would listen, and working tirelessly to prove that I was just as good as they were, damn it.

They were, by all appearances, the favored child, the shining example, the pinnacle. I can’t be certain how much of that was reality and how much was my perception, but that is less important than what the perception meant. If this person was the favorite who could do no wrong, that absolved me of any responsibility to improve or continue working. After all, if they were predetermined to win, what good were my efforts?

See what a toxic and unhelpful mindset that is? We rarely stop to consider whether our fascination with rivalry is productive. Healthy competition is all well and good, but rivalries, even one-sided ones, can easily become obsessions. We become so focused on comparison that we neglect ourselves. We become so determined to beat someone that we forget to care for our own work.

I grew so obsessively jealous of my rival that it quietly poisoned my creativity. Whenever I heard about positive developments in their life or praise for their achievements, I responded with venom.

First outwardly: “Oh look, more praise for the oh-so-perfect one.” Then inwardly: “Why am I not good enough for good things?” I saw their work and cried, not from the potency of their art, but from fury and jealousy at the thunderous applause they received. I had become so obsessed with another person that the idea of an artist succeeding brought me to tears.

It is also worth mentioning that while this obsession was at its most intense, I did very little original creative work of my own. I’m going to say that again, because it’s important:

If you spend all your time obsessing about what other people are doing, there’s no time left for your own work.

After college, this person and I went our separate ways, and I doubt either of us is suffering creatively as a result. Granted, it is easier not to think about someone when they’re several thousand miles away instead of sitting in your classes every day, but my point stands.

It’s easy to believe certain people get all the breaks when all you see are the results. Most hard work is invisible, and the only person who truly knows how much effort went into something is the person doing it. Are they lucky? Sometimes. Sometimes, you’re lucky. Luck just happens. That’s the whole idea. The rest requires effort. Nobody sees all of yours, and you can’t see all of theirs.

Even without an obsessive rivalry like my ill-advised college one, comparing yourself to others can lead down unhealthy paths. Any artist can look around and see someone with a better job, a larger network, a larger body of work, stronger reviews, more privilege, or a deeper bag of tricks. Think about the artists you know personally. Most probably fit at least one of those criteria, and you probably fit at least one for them.

Think about the artists you admire. They probably fit some of those criteria too. The things separating them from the artists around you are luck, hard work, and one more thing you can control: your perception.

Look at the artists around you. Watch them, learn from them, applaud them, and support them, but do not believe you are any less of an artist because you are not who they are. You are the artist you are, and they are who they are. You can never be them. On the flip side, THEY CAN NEVER BE YOU EITHER. So why not be as awesome as possible? Push yourself to be better, and push them to be better.

The industry is competitive, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t room for all of us.