Actor Tips for Nerves: Good Nerves vs. Bad Nerves

“How do I get rid of my nerves?” We get asked that more than almost anything, and I’ve got bad news: you don’t. The nerves are never going away. You will be nervous at every audition and every show for the rest of your career, and so will I. What we can do is sort them, because there are two kinds, and only one of them is a problem.

Bad nerves

Bad nerves come from being unprepared. You’re not confident because you haven’t earned confidence yet, and some honest part of you knows it. Those nerves live in your head, they weigh you down, and no amount of deep breathing will talk them out of the truth. Bad nerves sound like:

• You didn’t memorize as well as you should have.
• You didn’t break down the character before you walked in.
• You didn’t research the part, the product or the people.

The good news about bad nerves is that they are entirely in your control. Do the work and they’re gone.

Good nerves

Good nerves come from caring. I want this movie to be great. I want the client to sell their thing and make their money. I want to do well for the people in the room. Those nerves are a sign that you’re taking the work seriously, and I’d be worried about an actor who didn’t have them. Keep those. We’re going to use them.

Thought life

Most of acting, and most of life, comes down to thought life: what am I telling myself before I walk in? Even good nerves turn sour if the thoughts go wrong. “Everybody’s watching me. They want me to be good. What if I’m not?” That’s caring, twisted into fear.

So here’s the switch, and it sounds too simple until you try it. Don’t say “I’m nervous.” Not out loud, not in your head. Say “I’m excited.” Think about a first date. Butterflies, a stomach that won’t sit still, and you’d never call that nervous, because you’re excited to see the person. Same feeling. Same body. The only difference is the word you attached to it, and the word decides whether the feeling pushes you forward or holds you back.

Turning nerves into fuel

Take the good nerves, the earned ones, and rename them. “I’m excited. I can’t wait to get on that stage. There is energy in me that wants out.” That kind of talk changes how you attack a scene and how you look on camera, and here’s the part that surprises people: once you start, the nerves actually leave. They were good nerves. You did the work. You told yourself the right thing. The moment the first line is out, there’s nothing left for them to do.

I’ve jumped out of a plane exactly once. The worst part, and nobody tells you this, is the ride up. You’re wound tight, you’re staring at the door, every part of you is negotiating. Then you jump, and about one second later the fear is gone and you’re just floating, looking around, feeling the most alive you’ve ever felt. The terror was all in the anticipation. That is what an audition is. The nerves live in the waiting room. Walk in and start, and they don’t follow you.

You have that same power every audition, every show, every meeting, every day. Do the work so the only nerves left are the good ones. Then call them what they are, and go.