A Zak Barnett Studios long-time student and enthusiast of all things acting and self-discovery, Ava Marilyn seeks to capture the essence of the studio in her writing through her weekly personal experiences and epiphanies and her findings about the deeper self and others. Through these diary entry-type updates from someone actively studying and working through the industry, she hopes to provide an insider’s look into the studio itself, its practices, and its impact.
In moments past, I know I’ve talked about being my own worst critic — and it’s true. I live in a constant state of self-criticism, always wishing I’d done a scene differently, made a bolder choice, taken a bigger risk, been funnier… you know, the usual doubting game.
But lately, something within has shifted. I’ve found myself thinking, “Wait… I think I’m good?” And instead of immediately diving into the usual self-sabotage — analyzing every frame, picking every moment apart —I’ve started practicing something new: sitting back, watching myself, and deciding the best remedy for overthinking is deliberate action, followed by release — saying, “You did that. No notes. Congrats.”
I believe it’s possible to be humble and still proud of your work. You know your journey better than anyone else; you and you alone are in the front seat of your own life and have witnessed extraordinary progress. You know yourself better than anyone. And, if you can watch your own performance and genuinely believe every word coming out of your mouth, that’s something worth celebrating. If I believe myself, then I’m confident others will as well.
Part of maturing as an actor is gaining confidence. You hear those stories about seasoned actors who’ve never seen their own work, who refuse to, and still achieve critical acclaim — only to give speeches drenched in self-deprecation. But I think that can unintentionally invalidate the audience’s experience. If your work touches people — take the compliment. Own the success. Live in it.
Because in that acceptance, there’s also growth. Of course, there’s always more to learn, always ways to improve — though I’ve said it countless times, it bears repeating: we’re evolutionary creatures in an evolutionary business. But forward movement doesn’t need to be derived from excessive self-criticism. Sometimes the biggest step forward is looking honestly at one’s work and saying, “Well done.”
As actors, I would hope we all strive for greatness — well, our individual definitions of greatness. Don’t we want to move people through our characters, to leave a mark, even in some small way? If that’s the goal, doesn’t it make perfect sense that we’d be moved by our own work in the process?
When we deeply invest ourselves in a character, when we’re driven by the simple, pure desire to do them justice — with no ego, just truth — greatness becomes inevitable. Not because we chased it, but because we committed fully. So when we hyper-focus on a single facial expression, a glance, an eye twitch — what we’re really critiquing is the distance, the moment we weren’t fully present. Because when we are in it — really in it — even an “unflattering” look feels honest. It feels real.
Lately, I’ve been thinking about Timothée Chalamet’s speech at the SAG Awards, when he said, “I want to be one of the greats.” And honestly… don’t we all? Must we keep pretending we don’t?
I want to be on that stage one day — and I’m not afraid to say it. Because standing on that stage isn’t just about a trophy. It’s a symbol. A moment that says your art was seen—that it meant something. And while your art is powerful with or without the recognition, if others choose to acknowledge it, own that. Stand in that moment — humbly, graciously — and own it.
When the heart of an audience is moved and your work has touched them, you know it. The heart doesn’t lie. When you are the actor — authentically becoming the role, and you go into the story and tell it truly, everyone is changed. So, to the audience: say it.
We actors want to hear it.
We need to hear it.
