by Anna Akana
So I said to myself, there are a hundred thousand actors in Los Angeles and a lot of them are more talented than me. A lot of them are more attractive than me. A lot of them have the kind of charisma and attention-grabbing conversation skills that I can only drool over. But what I have, and what many other people don’t, is a strong work ethic.
Though I often hated him for it, my dad instilled discipline in me from an early age, and it’s one of the greatest gifts he ever gave me. Dad would pay me a penny per page that I read, or $10 per A that I earned, planting in me the idea that accomplishment equals reward.
But it’s easy to work hard, especially if it’s something your parents taught you. It’s harder to work smart. When I was younger, I spent a lot of time working on projects that would ultimately go nowhere, or working on videos that I learned nothing from. I used to say yes to everything, because I didn’t want to turn down an opportunity that might lead to another opportunity. I’m still bad at this, but I try a lot harder now to say no, especially to projects that don’t really inspire anything in me. It’s hard, because we all have bills to pay and cats to feed, but I’m working harder at working smarter.
Working smart also means not burning out. There’s no point in pulling all-nighters to get a project done if you’re just going through the motions. There’s no point in working if you’re not accomplishing anything. There’s no point in making money if you’re too busy to spend it on quality time and experiences.
Know how you work, then be smart about it and hit it hard.
Know Your Shit
I once worked with a young, up-and-coming director named Nancy. She asked if she could interview me. An easy shoot, she said. A few hours, tops. But those few hours ended up feeling like days. Nancy was hopelessly unsure of herself. She didn’t know what she wanted to do or how she wanted to do it, and she was constantly asking everyone else on the crew what they thought. A simple interview that should have taken forty-five minutes at most ended up taking three hours.
I was a little pissed. Hadn’t she done any planning for this shoot? Didn’t she know exactly what she wanted?
Once we actually started rolling, Nancy wasn’t great on camera. She kept fixing her hair, or stopping the take and holding up production as she mumbled to herself: “What should I ask? Did I already ask this? What do you think I should ask you, Anna?”
I didn’t want to step on anyone’s toes, but I also felt like Nancy was going to continue fumbling around and wasting my time unless I took the lead. She actually looked relieved when I pointed to an area that was quiet and bright and suggested we shoot there. I fed her questions before the camera rolled, told her how to cue me for my most interesting stories, and then got the hell out of there.
Nancy could be a great director. But I cringed every time she said “sorry.” I cringed when she asked her cameraman for his opinion regarding her interview questions. I watched the crew grow more and more annoyed because Nancy, the director and leader of this production, didn’t know her shit.
I’ve been guilty of not knowing my shit. I’ve been on conference calls where I’m supposed to be giving notes on a project I haven’t had time to fully read and think about. I’ve been in meetings where I hadn’t online-stalked the notable person I was with. I’ve ruined opportunities that way. You come across as ignorant, undeservingly entitled, and thoughtless.
So here’s what I know now: always be prepared. Visualization gets a bad rap for being corny and New Age-y, but it works. It just means that you think about what you’re gonna do before you do it. Put some thought into it. Know what you want. Be conscious of everyone’s time.
Don’t learn the hard way—know your shit.
If You Don’t Know How to Do Something, Find Someone Who Does
By 2014, my YouTube channel had become big enough that clothing companies were willing to send me clothing in exchange for promotion. Free clothes meant new outfits to put onscreen (you wouldn’t believe how quickly you cycle through your wardrobe when you’re playing all the characters in a video), and I happily accepted this swag…until I realized that I could be promoting my own swag. So I decided to create a clothing line called Ghost & Stars. It’s something that has always been on my bucket list, and I’d saved up enough money by this time to start a new business venture.
I wanted Ghost & Stars to be taken seriously and to stand on its own, so I set out to find help from someone who had experience in clothing design and production. I wanted to locate someone who had already made all the mistakes and who I could learn from.
Maura ran a small company that made cute animal-inspired clothing. She did all the graphic design herself, and from what I could tell, the shop was pretty successful. She just kicked ass at illustrating cute pandas. It was perfect.
I offered her a consulting fee in exchange for teaching me how she ran her business. She showed me how, from start to finish, to make a garment. This saved me so much time. Of the $5,000 budget that I had to launch Ghost & Stars, $1,000 of it went to Maura.
Hiring her was worth every penny. She saved me hours that I would have spent researching various manufacturers, she taught me a quick and efficient fulfillment process, and she gave me a recommendation for a printing company that I still use today.
If you don’t know how to do something, find someone who does. Locate people who are way better and smarter than you and learn from them. People are usually willing to share their knowledge for free, but that shit is power and you should be willing to pay for it (even if it’s just a lunch or coffee). Thanks to Maura, I didn’t have to waste time comparing reviews on which label printer would work best or which poly mailer could best withstand the wear and tear of shipping. I was able to focus on the designs and the creative work and create a product that I could be proud of.
Time is a thousand times more valuable than your money.
As much as being a boss can be a pain in the ass, I love my job. I love the freedom I have with creativity. I even love the responsibility, to an extent. It’s given my life purpose when I had none. It’s been the dream that I’ve been chasing since I was a kid. And I wish there were more badass boss women out here with me! So give yourself permission and get out here. Work hard and smart. Take over the world and inspire other people to do the same.
4
RELATIONSHIPS
Nothing teaches you more about yourself than a broken heart. I’ve made a lot of mistakes trying to figure out how to have a strong, healthy relationship— with friends, with partners, and, most important, with myself. A lot. Here are just a few.
You Don’t Realize How Important Friends Are Until You’re Friendless
Growing up, my family moved every few years, dragging me from one military base to the next, and so I learned how to make new friends easily. Each time we relocated, I was forced to start over as the new girl at school. I liked it. Every two years brought a fresh start and the chance to shape a new identity. I could be whoever I wanted. I’d try being the extrovert in Hawaii, the adventurous American in Japan, and studiously shy in Virginia. I could morph myself into whoever I wanted to be. It was fun. I was in charge of how people perceived me. And if I didn’t like myself, fuck it. I would move in a few years and start all over again. I could try on different personalities and discard them at will.
Every military brat knows how to make friends quickly. You mirror body movements, mimic the way someone talks, shower them with (hopefully genuine) compliments, and try to find common ground. What do you like that I like too? How can I mold myself to complement your personality? How do I add a little yin to your existing yang? I think this skill has helped me as an actor. I’m used to slipping on whatever identity allows me to fit in best. I’m used to changing myself to suit the environment around me.
But my upbringing also had real consequences for me as an adult. I don’t have an independent identity. I don’t know how to maintain friendships because I’ve never had to do it. I have a distorted view of who I am. Whereas most pe
ople think it’s dishonest to change yourself for the people in your life, it’s the way I grew up. Even though it sounds dramatic, it’s how I survived.
So when I moved to Los Angeles as an adult, I was excited about putting down roots somewhere. I couldn’t wait to build a community and to stay in one place for more than a couple of years.
I’ve lived in LA for seven years now, longer than I’ve lived anywhere else. However, that hasn’t meant that all of my friendships have lasted seven years. After some time spent in LA, I began to notice a pattern: I’d meet some cool people, become good friends with them, and then BAM—about two years in, I’d have a falling-out with that friend group and move on to another one. Each time it seemed like the same cycle on repeat. Instead of moving to another city, my best friend and I would get into a fight. We would go our separate ways. And I would be back out there again searching for new friends.
I asked my therapist if I was the problem. Why couldn’t I keep friends? Was something wrong with me? By this point I’d been in therapy for years and understood my self-destructive habits. So was I secretly sabotaging all the good things in my life? Was this because of the way I’d grown up? Was I just reliving my upbringing by blowing up my life every two years to start again as someone new?
My therapist didn’t think so. He pointed out that the reasons I usually split up with my friends were all justified, since I had a tendency to seek out emotionally abusive friendships. And that was true: The more someone took advantage of me, the more I wanted to please them. The more they took, the more I boundlessly gave. I’m still not sure exactly why this is. Does it come with the territory of being an attention-starved people-pleaser? Does rejection simply make me try harder? Only Freud could tell me, I guess.
And as much as I hate to say it, I don’t have a best friend. Don’t get me wrong, I desperately want one. I want someone to call when I have problems with my boyfriend. I want to have a go-to gal to get stoned with on the weekends so we can watch nineties movies and order more takeout than we can possibly eat. I want someone to shop and gossip with. Most of all, I just want someone I can call my own.
For the last three years or so, I’ve tried to find one. I’d eagerly enroll in classes like aerial arts and improv, hoping to find someone that I would click with. I felt so pathetic as I talked to various women, desperately hoping that they’d like me and give me their number. It was like dating, but worse. I’m sure some women thought I was interested in dating. “Do you wanna grab dinner and a movie this week?” sounds an awful lot like a come-on instead of a plea for friendship.
One time I got drunk with an acquaintance of mine and we went back to her house to talk more. I noticed an uninstalled pole lying on her floor and offered to help her set it up. I stayed into the late hours of the night, drunkenly helping her assemble her new dance apparatus.
When I got home, I had a huge grin on my face. My boyfriend, who knew about my intense quest for friendship, asked how it went. I told him that I thought this was it! After all this searching, could this person be my person? I went to sleep happy and excited for what the future would bring. I had found The One.
We haven’t hung out since.
At times I bitterly regretted my decision to drop out of college. So many friendships are formed in high school and college. Nothing can truly replicate the experience of being forced to hang out together every day, growing up together, making mistakes together, and having fun together all day every day. A lot of adults make new friendships through their offices or work, but I work from home.
Not only do I work from home, I’m also a workaholic with a self-imposed packed schedule. I take care of six cats. Most of the people I interact with on a daily basis are my employees (or cats), and a full-time friendship is hard to cultivate. It’s an uneven power dynamic. Where can I go to find friends?
There were times I’d try to force a friendship on someone. I’d decide that they were going to be my new best friend, and I’d text and set up hangout sessions. It was fine. Hanging out was great until I realized that I was the only person ever reaching out. So I stopped reaching out, and never heard from the person again.
Then there were times that girls were eager to be friends with me. I was ecstatic. I didn’t have to work so hard! They were hitting me up, inviting me to coffee or drinks, and I’d happily schedule a date and time for our friend date. But more often than not, these women had an agenda. They’d want me to promote something on social media or start up a YouTube channel with them (when I was already well established in the space and they had no experience whatsoever).
So here’s my advice, whether, like me, you’re still looking for that epic Broad City friendship, or you’ve just parted ways with a close friend, or you’ve just moved somewhere new. You can’t force friendship. You can go looking for it, put yourself out there, and meet new people. But don’t worry. It’s something that will come naturally, over time, through shared experiences and circumstance. It’s not going to happen right away. When it does, it may fall through. And that’s okay.
Sometimes I feel like giving up on the pursuit of friendship. After all, a lot of effort goes into it: attending parties (I’m an introvert, and this drains my energy), inviting women out for coffee or brunch, asking if I can tag along with girls I admire. But female friendship is important. Even when I feel disappointed, that connection, however brief, is worth it. Each time, you learn something new about yourself and about relating to another person. I say this knowing just how utterly lonely it is to not have someone to confide in.
Maybe that’s why my videos resonate with so many people on the Internet. They can probably feel my inherent loneliness! We can bond over our mutual sadness that we haven’t found someone who makes us laugh so hard we can’t breathe, or who will be honest when we’re being bitchy. All I want is someone who loves animals as much as I do and who will get a drink with me even though it’s ten in the morning. Even though I haven’t found her (or him) yet, I will never stop looking. I’m also taking resumes and head shots from those who would like to apply.
Don’t Be Afraid to Cross People Off the List
I have a tendency to stay in friendships that are toxic. The worse someone treats me, the more desperate I am to be liked by them. And I know I’m not the only one. There are a whole lot of people who fall into this exact same cycle. If someone continually brushes us off, the more we jump up and down shouting “Like me! I know I can make you like me if you give me a shot!”
Kristina’s death gave me abandonment issues. I worried that if I fought with anyone and we left it on bad terms, they’d go kill themselves and I’d blame myself. As a result, I’m afraid to cut ties with people. I worry about upsetting anyone—friends, family, lovers, colleagues—even if they’re detrimental to my life.
One of my best friends when I first moved to Los Angeles was a writer named Barbara. She’d seen a sketch I’d put up in a class showcase and wanted to work with me. I was ecstatic. After having done stand-up alone for so long, I was eager to collaborate with other people. I pitched a short sketch show to Barbara and we quickly became best friends. In both friendships and relationships, I am a giver. Whether it’s compliments, gifts, time, or attention, I love showering a person with whatever I’ve got.
Barbara, on the other hand, was suspicious by nature. In college she’d been through multiple medical malpractice lawsuits, and as a result, she was paranoid that everyone wanted to screw her over. The more suspicious she became, the harder I worked to ease her fears.
I brought her on as a writer in a showcase I was doing for a network television show. I gave her my juicer after she offhandedly commented that she wanted one. I took on all the responsibilities for our sketch show—the editing, producing, marketing, finances. Barbara eventually brought me a contract. She had a lawyer friend she’d been talking to about our show, and she wanted it solidified in writing that we each owned half. I agreed, with the caveat that she take on some additional responsibilities. I as
ked her to take on budgeting and financials, since that was work she was qualified to do. She refused. She wanted me to sign the contract, but she wouldn’t take on any extra work.
I reluctantly agreed, but that wasn’t the end of it. Giving in to Barbara’s fears had only made them stronger. Soon signing the contract wasn’t enough. She was still convinced that I was screwing her over somehow. We’d have long fights on the phone where I insisted that my actions showed her how loyal I was. Why would I try to screw her over? She was my best friend.
“No, we’re business partners first,” she said. That broke my heart.
Barbara and I ended our relationship shortly after that. She had taken all I had left to give, and at that point, I realized that it would never be enough.
It often takes me a long time to recognize that I’m in a toxic relationship or friendship. But what I’ve finally learned is that when you do realize it, it’s okay to cross that person off the list. It’s okay to cut toxicity out of your life.
I don’t think Barbara is a bad person. We’ve since talked and it’s nice to hear that she’s doing well. She apologized for her paranoia, and I understood and forgave her. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that we’re all shaped by our past trauma. And in the few brief encounters we’ve had since our falling-out, I often ask myself if I should be friends with her again. It would be so easy to get brunch and catch up and continue making plans. It would be so easy to work together again. That old familiar feeling of nostalgia would creep in, and I’d imagine all the late nights we could have, working and hanging out and being best friends again. But ultimately, it’s not worth having toxic relationships in your life. It would be fun for a while, but we’d fall back into our old patterns—her being suspicious and me eager to please. As much as I want more close friends in my life, I have to put myself first. I have to treat myself as if I were my own best friend.