Why do YOU want to be an actor, Louise?

From being asked the question, to finding myself in the answer.

“So, why do you want to be an actor?”

The casting director’s question landed heavily in the virtual room, a familiar yet daunting inquiry for actors. Around me, a gallery of blinking eyes—all hoping to leave their mark—waited for their turn to respond. Since I’d been asked this question before (and wanted to avoid the familiar pang of disappointment in my own inability to communicate something that meant so much to me), when my time came, to my relief, I pieced together a somewhat articulate response. I remember sharing how I realised that I want to experience everything I can in this world, and living through the experience of other characters in other stories and life journeys helps me to achieve that.

Despite expressing something true in my response, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was only describing the leaves on the tree and not the roots. Something I’ve come to understand about myself is that I’m always searching for depth—and there’s an undeniable reward in exploring such territory. Etymology and I are great friends; I love tracing words back to their roots and uncovering their original meanings. Acting, I’ve discovered, is much the same: a process of delving beneath the surface in search of the core essence of human nature.

Studying Meisner and Uta Hagen helped me recognise something true and honest about my desire to become an actor. Hagen says, “Acting is not about being someone else; it is about finding yourself within the character.” Meisner adds, “If you want to reach every person in the audience, it’s not about being bigger, it’s about going deeper.” These words resonated with me profoundly. I discovered a strong connection between my daily need for depth and what acting offers. There’s no limit to how deeply you can explore and understand the human experience—and no end to how far you can go in learning about who you are either.

I still remember the very first time I ever held a script. I was in Year 5 in primary school, and our teacher, Mrs. Smith, handed out warm, freshly printed sheets with names and, as I now know, dialogue. She asked who wanted a character, and my hand shot up as I followed the fun. My 10-year-old self enjoyed reading aloud—there was something thrilling about it. The stakes (in my mind) felt high: I could mess up a word and embarrass myself in front of the whole class, but if I focused, I could say every single word aloud and even say them with confidence and flair!

In secondary school, we had school plays and musicals that we felt (or convinced ourselves) were West End-worthy. Costumes, direction, choreography—the whole shabang. I played the Snake in Children of Eden and French headmistress Madame Dubonnet in The Boyfriend (with thanks to the French teacher who gave up their lunchtimes to help me craft my French accent in preparation for the role). I remember a boyfriend at the time saying he didn’t recognise me on stage. Still to this day one of the best compliments I think an actor can receive.

Unless I was physically engaged and having fun — I was hyper-aware of the clock. Some lessons dragged and others flew by. But in drama, time disappeared. The space itself was transformative: heavy black curtains, a springy black floor, and walls adorned with inspirational quotes. Drama wasn’t just about performing; it was about understanding the world. I’ll never forget the day we discussed The Caucasian Chalk Circle and realised we didn’t fully understand its political context because we lacked knowledge of the broader political sphere. Mr Cattell, patient yet incredulous, thankfully took the time to educate us. Drama — and our wonderful drama teacher — pushed us to look beyond ourselves, to better understand, connect with, and engage with the world around us.

I've always known that I wanted to be an actor. Since that very first script. I, of course, didn't know it was a career at that age (especially when the Connexions adviser struggled to offer any advice from her Yellow Book encyclopedia of career pathways); I just knew that I wanted to ruthlessly follow the fun. Little did I know it was going to be possible. Even if you don't know anyone in the industry (I didn't), I learned that you can literally change your life. You are a character in your own story. You get to choose the decisions you make and the actions you (do or do not) take.

What started as a way to make time disappear became my lifelong pursuit of following the fun, diving deeper into human behaviour, and having a passport to a myriad of life experiences that enable me to live multiple lives in this one I have. But somewhere along the way, it became something more.

The pursuit of acting and honing my craft helps me find poetry in the everyday. It connects me with courageous, creative people, opens doors to serendipitous moments, and reveals the magic that happens when I commit to living a life built around art.

It strengthens my ability to connect with everyone and anyone, trains my empathy, and sharpens my focus by shifting my attention away from myself and onto others. It teaches me to truly listen—something I didn’t know how to do until I trained myself. It offers wisdom and life lessons as I learn to believe in myself and brings sheer joy when creative magic shows up for me because I’ve shown up for it.

It thrills me to be on set, to step onto a stage charged with potential and creative electricity in front of a live audience, and disciplines me to exercise my mind, body, and spirit to build myself as an artist. It invites me to question what it means to be an artist and to discover the answers in the process of doing.

And maybe, just maybe, there's something about waking up and existing living within a world you have built for yourself, a reality that your 10-year-old self wouldn’t hesitate in creating for herself (and so that’s what she did).