This is the second slideshow in a series that distills some of the essential teachings of Konstantin Stanislavski in regards to the work a good actor must do in order to prepare for performing a role onstage.

The six lessons form an acronym--C.H.O.O.S.E.--which is easy for young actors to remember, and covers all the basics. Additionally, the acronym is appropriate because, after all, acting is all about making choices.

My name is Chris Schloemp, and I am a high school Drama teacher in Santa Rosa, California. I have been using this method for years now, and it does help beginning actors learn the fundamental tools of their craft. The ideas are Stanislavski's, the form of the acronym is mine, and others are free to use and edit this slideshow as they see fit. I hope you and your students find something useful in here.

Holding an entire play in your hands can feel a bit intimidating. Where do we begin to get ready for performance? Some actors might simply begin by highlighting their lines and then starting the long road of memorizing them.

There is certainly nothing wrong with that approach, but saying the lines in the right order is not the end of the work--it is merely the beginning.

An actor must be able to analyze the text, to break it down into its component parts, in order to be able to put them all back together again into a finished performance.

First off, there is the play as a whole. Read the whole thing. Even if you are just doing a single monologue from a single scene. Read the whole thing.

Plays then get broken down into acts. Shakespeare's plays had five acts; plays in later centuries had three. Most contemporary plays have two: before intermission and after intermission. Know what the main thrust of each act is. What changes by the end of each act?

Acts get broken down into scenes, typically a distinct location in space and time. Whenever the action moves to a new place or time, that is typically a new scene. Know what the main thrust of each scene is. What changes by the end of each scene?

Scenes get broken down into beats. A beat is a small slice of the scene in which characters take a small step toward their goal, or objective, and there is some change in tactic by one or more characters.

Each letter in the CHOOSE method works at one of the levels on the previous slide.

For HISTORY, we work at the act level, mainly the first act of the play. To be more specific, history refers to all the events that happened in a character's life BEFORE the first act begins. It is what sometimes gets referred to as the character's "backstory."

The assignment at the end of this presentation should be completed for each act, because, over the course of the act, big changes happen for the characters, and those changes now become part of the character's history. The events of the play shape a character's future responses to new conflicts later in the play.

An act in a play is typically a series of scenes over the course of which a major change occurs in the lives and objectives of one or more characters.

As mentioned earlier, contemporary plays usually have only two acts: before intermission and after intermission. All the scenes in the first act most always lead up to a surprising development or sudden twist in the story. The change happens, the lights go to black, and the audience gasps, ready to head out to the lobby to get some snacks and talk with others about what will happen next. Therefore, an act has to end on a big change.

Scenes have small changes; acts have big ones.

The big question an actor needs to ask for each act is, "How did I get here?"

Once actors know where and when the play takes place, they then need to consider how they got there. Any given moment in time is the culmination of a series of events in the lives of the characters.

Who we are as human beings is a complex blend of genes and upbringing, of nature and nurture. Who we are and what has happened to us in the past determines how we respond to new events in the present. That combination defines our character.

And we have to know it, to play our character believably onstage.

Some of this work also fell under circumstances, in that characters not only have their personal history, but they also live in a set historical era as well. For this part of the work, however, we will focus on personal history, while always being aware that major historical events in the world will often drastically shape who a character is.

Start with some of the basics of childhood experience and remember to always answer these questions in the first person (I, me, my, our, us) so we get used to the idea of the character being you when you are onstage, rather than some other person that you play.

In what city, country, and time period were you born?

What is your immediate family like, the ones with whom you spent most of your childhood, the people who raised you?

What is your family's class, wealth, and level of privilege?

What was your education like and how far did you go in your formal schooling?

What is your racial, ethnic, and cultural background?

For each one of these, you should also know the extent to which you accept these facts about your background or struggle to overcome them. In other words, are you proud of your past, or ashamed of it?

Once an actor knows the broad outlines of a character's history, it's time to get to work on the details. In particular, an actor has to figure out what the defining moments of a character's past are.

A defining moment is just that: a moment in the past that shaped or defined who that character is at the start of the play. Just like a dictionary definition explains what a word means, a defining moment explains why the character is who he or she is.

For instance, pick your favorite superhero. They probably have an origin story, right? What made them decide to put an ordinary life aside and become a costumed crimefighter? Was it the death of a loved one at the hands of a vicious criminal? Was it being inspired by another hero who is ready to hang up the cape? This is a defining moment.

Defining moments can come from a variety of places. Past trauma. Sudden awareness of political, social, or economic injustice. A major accomplishment. A total defeat. Praise from an influential role model.

Defining moments are not all bad or good; they are simply life-altering.

Unless it is a solo play, the story will rely on interactions between a variety of characters. Each actor must investigate what their relationship is to all the other characters, especially the ones that share their scenes onstage.

For each other character in the play, an actor should be able to answer all the following questions:

What is the relationship? (Friend, family, colleague, boss, stranger.)
How long have you known them? (Days, weeks, years.)
What is your attitude towards them? (Friendly, hostile, indifferent.)
How did you meet?
What is the power dynamic? (Above you, below you, same tier.)
How long has it been since you last interacted, and how did that go?

This might seem like a lot of work, and, truly, it is. Is it necessary? Absolutely. The difference between a mediocre performer and an excellent actor all comes down to who is willing to "do their homework." Rehearsal is typically not the place where these discoveries take place. The hours spent in rehearsal need to be devoted to blocking actors and choreographing movement, dances, and fights. In most cases there simply isn't enough time.

So, where and when does it all happen?

The most obvious beginning is to read the play several times. Many details of a character's biography are built into the script itself. In fact, the sources of conflict in the present scene can always be traced back to the pain or unresolved issues of the past. Pay close attention to the monologues: those will often lay the important part of the history bare.

Even though, we said before that rehearsal is not the time to delve into history, some directors will schedule personal one-on-one time with individual actors to do just this type of investigation. In the theatre, we call this table work. Because directors are typically more experienced, they can offer valuable insights into character motivation.

You should make backstory decisions that involve other characters with the actors who are playing them. You should both be on the same page, so to speak. This will also be a time for you to decide--as actors--what actually happened in the past, before you decide--as characters--what your attitude towards those events is. For example, you should both agree that your father left the family in 1977, and took the family dog with him. Your characters may disagree on how they felt about Dad and the dog, but they can't disagree on the fact of the departure.

If you are not familiar with the era and how someone of your character's social and economic background would have lived and talked, then there is just no way around doing some research. You may not know the details yourself, but someone in the audience will, and they will see right through your lazy attempt to fake it.

We will discuss the technique of the "Magic If" more in the next presentation, but it is a useful concept here as well. Stanislavski stressed the importance of being able to relate the unknown motivation of the character to the known motivation of the actor.

Chances are, your character has had experiences that you have not had yourself. If you are lucky enough to have had identical or nearly identical experiences, then the acting task is simple: you just use your own memories of the literal event. However, most of the time, your character will have seen and done things that are totally foreign to your experience. What do you do then?

Part of what the "Magic If" asks you to recognize is that human beings have similar experiences, even though they are usually not identical. Say, for example, your character has a mother who was always very distant, always withholding love and affection. Suppose that your actual mother was the stereotypical perfect mom. What do you do then? Search your memory for someone who is like a mom--maybe a teacher or a boss--who never gave you the love you felt you deserved. Use her instead.

So, at the same time that you are exploring your character's history, you are actually also exploring your own, finding all the similar experiences that you can call upon for your performance. Great actors are often those who are willing to make themselves vulnerable enough to share their own personal past in their present public performance. Doing anything less will mean that you are just saying words without any kind of empathy behind them.

Travis Lee Ratcliff shares his thoughts on how Stanislavski reinvented the core principles of the actor's craft.

Link to Video: https://youtu.be/iB1fPZX5Zgk

Have you ever wondered why an audience can be moved to laughter or tears by a performance that is essentially a fiction, a lie? They always know, on the surface, that what they are seeing is not literally true, that these events they are witnessing did not actually happen like that.

And yet, they cry and laugh anyway, when they see a good play well performed. Why?

Because they can relate. The joy and pain of their past resembles the joy and pain of the characters onstage. They have been there, too. A play can remind them of the missteps of their past and sometimes even show them a new way forward.

The audience's history coincides with the history of the characters onstage, and the result: empathy.

But only if we do our part, and know exactly how our characters go to be the way they are. We have to know their history.

Write out your character's history, including the defining moments, and all your relationships to the other characters. In the margins, perhaps in a different color, write out all the experiences from your own life that are similar to what your character went through in the past. These emotional bridges will help you perform your character truthfully.