The Creative Process of an Actress
Poetry, Stillness, Growth, and the Inner Life
 Sensible, practical, in-the-box life stories. Are you tired of ’em? I sure am. I always have been - especially when they’re used to silence imagination, dreams, and possibility. I chase light. I chase strength. I chase rainbows, good feelings, and acting. To live fully - or create anything - I need imagination, focus, resilience, and a truckload of faith.
…comments and advice from what I call they-sayers - those voices that sound practical but slowly drain your courage and vibrant enthusiasm. (Definition below) They-sayers: People (aka dream crushers) whose mouth run off season never ends with stinky opinions. They offer seemingly practical, sensible, or unsolicited advice when sharing a creative pursuit. This results in a twisted knot in your heart, tightening of your voice, self-doubt, and eyeballs that could potentially get stuck in an upward-rolled position. It reduces inspired action toward dreams and goals. I’m listening more intently to responses people give when a hopeful dream or creative idea is shared. It’s alarming how often it’s shunned and shamed and the person is told to redirect themselves for the sake of “real practicality.” Recently, I met up with a fellow actress. While waiting for lunch, we caught up on personal news. Her eyes lit up, as mine did, feeling the creative buzz when we spoke about acting projects. As our chatter turned toward the future, I noticed a change in her face. Her eyes darkened with sadness as she spoke about bringing more films and theatre to Montana. The crestfallen vibe grew so big I asked about it. She rattled off self-doubting statements, “I don’t know if it’s possible. I can’t talk to this person or that person because…” and regurgitated things people had said to her. I felt sucker-punched in my gut as she repeated comments and advice from those They-sayers. My soul nudged me, actually pushed me like hell, to interrupt and shift the course of that sinking-feeling conversation! My big haired 80’s preacher was on the pulpit in my mind in a flash. I asked questions and made statements to stop and re-direct poorly made comments and advice. I threw off my dignity. With my mouth slightly full, talking with my hands like some of my favorite Italians… I spoke boldly to save her imagination, ideas, and energy from dying! Too loud for the booth we were sitting in and fumbling for words, I sputtered that creative and new life endeavors often feel like Noah must have felt building his ark. His soul called him to build an ark. In the midst of they-sayer chatter and ridicule he followed that soul call anyways. He built it. He boarded. Because of his focused choice and actions, his world survived. With tears slightly welling up in both of our eyes, I watched her spark return. We felt the shift - from torn-up mental energy to a wholeness of heart. As I left our lunch, I felt I’d done a good thing helping my friend re-direct her thinking and feelings toward what’s possible. I reminded her she is not alone; I am building my creative "ark" and life too. Later in the day though, I felt small again. I remembered times I faced similar crappy advice, snarky comments, and ridiculous responses while creating something. I felt my spirit shrivel -and this time, I noticed it. I made a choice to expand back into my imagination and redirect my thoughts and heart to what I am doing to support the next level of my acting career. Again and again, I’ve seen meaningful creation begin when imagination is allowed breathing room. Nurturing words go a long way in holding that space. That space is something I care deeply about - and something I’m committed to protecting in my life and work. I don’t want a shriveled, fearful life guided by They-sayer mouth run off comments. I am building my life and art from curiosity, imagination, and courage -even when it makes me talk with my mouth full and my words aren’t perfect. I choose to speak and create from my heart. I’m actively building my creative life, one brave choice at a time. I share that process—the wins, the doubts, the becoming – stay connected over on my social platforms. Keep finding your light. I’ll be doing the same.
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 Perseverance This past year — wow, holy cow. We’re finding our way again! There’s something that moves my heart noticing more kindness, seeing one another in person, and appreciating our human experience in renewed ways as the pandemic continues to fade into the rear-view mirror 🦋 Perseverance feels like the word of the year. For me, it’s been a rapidly shifting kaleidoscope of growth in self-worth, self-advocacy, and self-acceptance. Facing internal patterns that once held me back has been a brave and necessary journey - one I’m learning to acknowledge and celebrate. The quiet payoff is a deeper, steadier sense of self-love 💞 Creative Work & Acting Life This year, I worked on the production team for a Montana-produced version of Hamlet. We built a castle in open ranch fields, filmed in the St. Helena Cathedral, and captured footage in the woods that gave this classic story a fresh, grounded feel. I was cast as Queen Gertrude, and it was a honor to bring her to life. Pick-up shots are scheduled later this year. I continued auditioning - and refining my audition practice. I purchased a camera, borrowed a couple of soft box lights, and built a functional self-tape setup in my garage (with the help of my brother) and found a small space in my home to film during the colder months. Learning to operate my Canon Rebel camera has been daunting task and also a necessary part of creating a more professional, reliable audition workflow. Training remained central this past year. I studied with Josh Pais (Motherless Brooklyn, Joker), who generously shared his process for character creation. Our work focused on scene study, monologues, and exploring deeper energetic layers of spontaneity and creativity. I also completed an eight-week program with BGB Studios and privately coached with Alexandra Wright. Currently, I’m studying improv storytelling with Kevin Casey, a tremendous actor whose background includes clown training in Italy and Turkey.  Film Work & Festivals My short film 🎥 Homestead was officially selected by the Montana International Film Festival, South Dakota Film Festival (where our lead actress received Best Actress), Bozeman Film Festival (First Place Short Film), and most recently the Minnesota Film Festival - my home state! 🎥 Swing is currently on the festival circuit and has been accepted at nine festivals. The film has received three Best Actress nominations for my performance, along with nominations for Best Director, Best International Featurette, Best Cinematography, Best Original Music Score, Best Featurette, Best Screenplay Short Film, and the Juan Anchia Award for Best Cinematography. We’re grateful to be sharing this work. If you’re in Cheyenne, Wyoming the first weekend of July 2023, I hope you’ll come see it. Filming also wrapped last year on 🎥 They Don’t Leave, which received a Big Sky Film Grant from the Montana Film Office. Whilst I was in London last month, I attended a pre-screening of the film, which weaves together UK and Montana storylines while exploring generational sexual trauma. The film begins its festival run soon.  Recalibration & Harmony In October, I hit a wall. After years of overbooking myself - paired with shifts in my day job - I chose a necessary reset. Over several weeks, I reevaluated priorities and made deliberate choices about sustainability. One of those decisions was placing audiobook narration study and pursuit on hold. While I value the medium, the learning curve, technical demands, and time investment required more bandwidth than I had available alongside continuing with acting, filming, and making time for relationships. Simplifying allowed me to amplify what matters most. Acting remains my creative priority, supported by a stable day job that provides grounding. I’m grateful to friends who offered steady support during that time of recalibration. Harmony became another defining word this year for me. I began looking at my life as a whole - with more intention. I made room for joy: a Hairball concert (the bestest 80’s music reprise ever!), cut and dug new trails for mountain hiking and biking, seeing Father Stu at its local premiere, snowboarding in deep fluffy powder at home and in Utah, and my first trip to Europe - Scotland for a film festival, followed by time in London. I've been obsessed going to London since I was a girl. It's held my heart; its film, music, fashion, and history plus my lineage as ancestral roots there ✨   Closing Thoughts If there’s a way of being I continue to choose, it’s adding more love - choosing compassionate self-talk, leading myself in curiosity rather than anxiety, and allowing myself to be fully present in my art, work, and in life rather than scattershot spread too thin. I'm also choosing to celebrate work I've done. It feels like it goes by way to fast to fully inhabit the joy of completion. There are three films on Amazon Prime that are testament to the fortitude and perseverance for myself and entire cast and crews that have put these films together. Thank you for the continued support - for those who see what I’m building and offer encouragement along the way. Making art is not always easy, and I’m grateful for kindness and shared belief in the process.  Keep building your castles. Believe in magic. Notice the love that surrounds us in so many ways. With gratitude, Mary 🌼 P.S. I'm grateful for people following my creative path | Instagram and Facebook  Hello and happy May Day! I wanted to share a brief update, as my regular blogging has taken a back seat while navigating the ongoing global pandemic, continuing classes and skill building, and sharing my time and attention with close family and friends who’ve needed support. At this stage, I’m actively seeking agent representation as I continue building toward larger opportunities in film and television. During the pandemic, I was cast via digital audition/Zoom in the short film They Don’t Leave, a story exploring generational trauma and starring three incredible women, directed by Caz McGovern. We’re currently in pre-production and rehearsal, with filming scheduled for June 2022. In autumn 2022, I’ll also complete pick-up shots and return to the role of Queen Gertrude in an independent Montana film adaptation of Hamlet. Alongside this work, I’ve been deepening my craft through an audiobook narration class, expanding the ways I can work as an actor and storyteller. - - - - - - - - - - - - Beyond the work, there is so much still unfolding in the world. As you read this, I send a sincere note of encouragement through these words. This Earth ride has been crazy bumpy — many parts of the world are struggling terribly, people remain unsafe in their rights, and some are literally fighting for their freedom. God bless the Ukraine. Staying grounded through excellence, grace, fortitude, and fierce love is how I’m continuing forward. It’s how I keep contributing what I can. Collectively, we’re doing this too — slowly, imperfectly, and with growing awareness I hope of how to be better humans. - - - - - - - - - - - - Spring is arriving at turtle's pace. I’ve been back up on the mountain, warming up my trail legs for summer biking and hiking, and taking photos as usual. The quote paired with my recent photo has been resonating deeply — especially around owning my greatness within my very unique journey. If you’d like to stay connected, I welcome you to join me on social media and engage there respectfully. Let’s keep moving foward! Big loves xo - - - - - - - - - - - - Update May 27, 2022 The U.S. primary election is underway through June 6, 2022. Our nation needs leaders — not thoughts and prayers. Vote. Observe what candidates stand for. Do your own research. Vote for people with the insight and foresight to enact policies that protect our rights, our children’s safety, and our freedoms.   Rewind time to... mid-March 2020 What were you doing? I was at the Idyllwild International Festival of Cinema in California receiving the Best Supporting Actress award for Wuthering Heights. We sensed the growing crisis; that was the day gathering limits were recommended. I accepted the award with joy and gratitude, acknowledging my film team, family, and friends. The world was coming to a full stop as the award ceremony was happening. I charged off to the grocery market soon after the plane wheels came to a halt to purchase essential items as Shelter in Place notices went up around the world. Within a day after arriving home, COVID-19 turned into a global shutdown. The celebratory glow of the award quickly collided with a new reality. I went from feeling on top of the world award-winning actress to feeling like a real-life survivor in an unfolding apocalypse. I found myself staring at stripped bare grocery shelves with an unexpected question —what does winning mean when the world is in crisis? Instead of celebrating with friends and family, I masked up and went to work. As an essential employee at my job, I moved between home and work like a lost cork in the ocean, armed with bottles of sanitizer like light sabers against an invisible enemy.  I sensibly set the award aside on the entertainment hutch. Life demanded attention. I helped a friend with yoga videos as she moved her yoga business online. Dropping necessities off to sick friends, I reorganized daily life around the basics of safety and health. I filled time with deep cleaning projects and long-ignored household tasks with more zest than I’d ever had before to calm the anxiety swirling in my body and mind. Like many people, the full stop of activities in my world brought forward too — an inner reckoning of how I went about life. Every time I passed the award though, I felt something tugging at me. Sometimes it was exhilaration. Other times it felt uncomfortable — almost inappropriate — to have such a joyful accomplishment as the world was facing suffering and a state of emergency for survival. I began asking myself more questions… What does winning actually mean? Searching online for guidance in articles about success psychology, mindset, and achievement, I found plenty written about how to reach success —but almost nothing about what happens emotionally and mentally after you arrive there, aside from a few flatly worded articles about not making winning your identity. Even less about how to integrate success and there was nothing about how to do that when the entire world is in turmoil. In curiosity, I turned the question around and looked at the other side it: how to handle losing. I thought perhaps the two subjects would be written about side-by-side. There were endless articles about resilience, making a comeback, and how to integrate/use the experience of losing to help reshape your inner landscape. That territory was familiar to me. I’ve spent years reworking losses and also, quietly minimizing my accomplishments and convincing myself that was the safer and more humble way to move through the world. My heart kept telling me that owning myself — no matter what is going on — was important because it planted purposeful, helpful seeds in my life now and for the future. I stepped up care of my mental, emotional, and physical health and finally got myself out into the mountains. I needed to find my center and also, stop cleaning every god blessed thing in sight.  On the mountain top, I took a long time to observe the weather moving in and out of the area. Because of the pandemic, I was at a complete stop from my usual high-speed way of doing life. I was able to feel my stitched-together self-concept and the poor-quality self-talk that came with it. Winning required a different conversation with myself, and I realized I didn’t yet know how to have it. All I could hear was a cascade of questions. How do you hold onto a winning feeling, so it becomes part of your inner landscape of words in a healthy, progressive, thoughtful way? And more importantly, why?  Meanwhile, the world continued to change rapidly. The pandemic deepened. The tragic death of George Floyd ignited global protests and difficult national conversations about justice and equality. Like many others, I opened up my heart, rolled up my sleeves to participate and learn. I marched in Black Lives Matter demonstrations, listened deeply, amplified voices, donated where I could, and stayed engaged in the work of understanding and change. At the same time, everyday life continued asking things of me. I supported family members through health challenges and one of my own. I helped coordinate a major office move at my job while coworkers faced crises of their own. With the help of my brother, I built a small creative space in my garage so my artistic life could continue and maybe even thrive in a very different environment. I submitted digital auditions as the film industry shifted online, studied acting and filmmaking, improved my photography skills, wrote poetry, filmed a short piece of my own, was cast and filmed on a closed set for a virtual play festival, patronized local businesses, snowboarded, and continued supporting the independent films I was involved with. I experienced moments of exhaustion, deep fear, laughter, grief, and unexpected growth. For example, I was invited to be a guest artist at a local college sharing my acting knowledge and experience. Supporting family and friends through Zoom, rather than my usual in-person exuberance, left me feeling displaced.  As I returned to nature regularly to ground and recharge, I realized something important. Winning the award had never really been about the trophy. It was evidence of something deeper — years of showing up for my craft, for my collaborators, and for myself. The recognition represented discipline, resilience, and the unseen persistence required to pursue artistic work over a span of time. That recognition is a reminder my work has value. That value can be carried forward into how I show up for my communities, art, collaborations, and responsibilities.  The real question was not whether the award mattered. The real question was…. Would I allow myself to fully acknowledge what it represented and own my efforts?
Pretending not to see your own accomplishments, even in difficult times, does not serve anyone. It diminishes the work that was done, people who helped make it possible, and it can keep inner narratives in a powerless state rather than an empowered one. Now... mid-March 2021 The world is slowly emerging. We are greeting each other in person. We are making it. Our lives will never be quite the same. Choosing to shift from busyness to connection makes room for compassion to grow. I find myself registering more gratitude now that I've stopped the frantic pace of life and become more intentional. Over the past year I realized accepting success does not mean ignoring the struggles of the world. If anything, it strengthens my capacity to contribute meaningfully and honors my part in my life story. I chose to deeply listen to myself and recognize the most life-giving conversation is the one you have within yourself; that conversation has power to bless you and others when it’s healthy and whole. The award became physical evidence of something I hadn’t fully recognized before — the discipline, persistence, and belief required to stay committed to a craft over time. There is celebration in such a win, and there is also responsibility. Without fully realizing it, I had taken the empowered winning feeling, decided what winning meant to me, acted on it, and quietly put it to work in all areas of my life throughout the year. The award is a constant reminder. Showing up matters. Dedication matters. Creative work matters. Perhaps most importantly, acknowledging our own efforts with honesty and gratitude matters. Success is not something we are meant to hide from or apologize for. It is something we are meant to carry forward with awareness, humility, responsibility, and yes, ownership and joy. And maybe that is how you survive winning — by allowing it to deepen the way you live, work, and show up in the world.   If you already have voted - - thank you! If you haven't voted, there's still time. Resources are available in every state to guide you to where you can get your ballot and vote. Updated May 27, 2022 Google: where do I vote (your state name) election (year) to get started!  There’s no way to be quiet about the support that needs to grow and improve for women, minorities, and children in our country—in wages, healthcare, education, and policy.
There’s no way to be quiet about the overhaul needed in our justice system and the raising up of Black lives and stories in our country. There’s no way to be quiet about the care and thoughtful action our land and nature need in order to be respected and to sustain us now and into the future. There’s no way to stay on the sidelines. I join those voices, best I can each day—taking action, paying attention, and holding myself accountable in the choices I make.  Co-vid 19 is striking the world hard. Staying in faith is requiring real effort, and more than ever there is a need for support. . . for each other and for the planet. If you’re struggling, as I have been too, I hope you remember you’re not alone. Reaching out to your people, —family, friends, or professionals—can help steady the mind and soften that heavy, sinking feeling that can come in moments like this. I find myself returning again and again to the quiet ways people are showing up for each other by feeding, helping, and gently opening long-held walls to connect in more tender ways.
These past months I’ve been taking pictures with my iPhone, noticing beautiful light, writing poetry, and spending time in the peacefulness of nature… letting that steady, bountiful energy meet me where I am, like the freshness of a good rain after a long stretch of dry Montana summer heat. Finding our way through this, healing ourselves and the planet, will take time. It feels like a very long arc that we're in for. A shedding. A returning. Maybe even a quiet re-learning of what it means to live with awareness, intention, and a sense of shared life. This image and poem came from one of those walks. A small moment of reaching for my light. If you linger with it for a breath, I hope it meets you wherever you are. Take what you need from it. Leave the rest. Share your light when you can. Many warm energy hugs from right where I stand now. —Mary xoxo Opening — A Year That Changed Me A whole year has flown by since I last blogged. For quite a few days, I felt bad that I’d dropped an artistic commitment I’d made to myself to write regularly… until I really let myself acknowledge how much I’ve been in the trenches of creating art, growing, and taking care of life in the past twelve months. So instead of staying in that, I decided to give myself a shout out and douse myself in some well-earned recognition, love, and warm validation. This past year didn’t just fill me up —it changed me. The Work — Deepening the Craft At the beginning of 2019, I committed to deepening my craft in a real way. I immersed myself in a three-and-a-half-month intensive series of online acting classes with Jo Kelly, followed later in the year by an industry-standard audition intensive with Crystal Carson in Atlanta. Alongside that, I completed five Masterclass online courses across acting, directing, filmmaking, and screenwriting subjects, took a six-week acting/storytelling class at Grand Street community theatre, and stayed engaged in a monthly play-reading study group. I made time to see fellow artists’ shows and performances —continuing to learn not just from study, but from being in the creative ecosystem itself. These classes became about more than training. I began to understand more deeply why I’m an artist —shedding things, people, and processes that didn’t support that— and building ways of working that align with how I learn and how I stay creatively alive and full.  Photo credits: Jason O'Neil, Justin Baker, Charles Perry The Work in the World — Film & Industry This year, the work stepped out into the world. I auditioned several times and was cast in the short film Homestead, filming in October 2019 with a stellar crew from LA and Montana. The project is now in post-production, with a completed rough cut and additional fundraising underway as it moves toward the festival circuit. I also worked with a group of Missoula filmmakers after being cast in We Burn Like This, and was cast in a local commercial as a snowboarder, with the PSA set to release soon. Another short I acted in, Sudden Developments, premiered at the Bigfork Film Festival in spring 2019. One of the standout moments of the year was traveling to Hollywood as both actress and executive producer for the screening of Willow Creek Road at the TCL Chinese Theatre. A truly dreamy highlight! I also contributed deeply to the documentary Black Cowboy, putting nearly two years of preparation into the project… completing an interview, supporting the team with connections, research, feedback, and even providing lodging and meals during production. It was a full-bodied contribution of time, energy, and care. Through all of this, I stepped more fully into calling myself a professional —clearer and more determined in how I want to share my talents on this wild, creative path.  Photo credits: Jenna Ciralli, Tashia Gates The Anchor — Wuthering Heights The largest accomplishment of this past year was being part of the team that completed the independent film Wuthering Heights. Throughout 2019 —and much of 2018— I spent nearly every Thursday night on conference calls with a small, tenacious team, working through every layer of the production. I gave countless lunch hours and evenings to scheduling, communication, team morale, reviewing edits, performing ADR, and supporting marketing efforts. It took grit, compromise, long-distance collaboration, hard conversations, and follow through on an overwhelming number of details. It wasn’t perfect but it was real. And the heart, talent, and care poured into it were felt by everyone who came to the screening.  We premiered in Montana in December 2019. After five and a half years of work, what began as an idea became a completed piece of film.  Photo credit: Rachel Riitano Our festival journey begins in January 2020 at the Flathead Lake International Cinemafest. You can follow us on Facebook or check our website to keep up with our journey with this film! Tap/click on the picture icons. The Life That Held It All Life didn’t pause while I was building all of this. I found grounding and freedom snowboarding across places like Lake Louise, Banff Sunshine, Sun Valley, Snowbird, and here at home in Montana. There’s nothing like being out on the mountain and letting the forest clear my energy and reconnect me to something bigger.  Summer brought its own kind of expansion… more time in nature, new friendships, and learning to ask for support with my emotions and mindset in ways that felt vulnerable and courageous. If you’ve never been, the Bonneville Salt Flats in Utah has a unique mystique that watered my imagination for the poetry I write. At the same time, real life was happening. Truck issues that wouldn’t quit. A frozen main water pipe at my house, that included life with out running water for a week, a huge plumbing bill, and a new found immense gratitude for how blessed we are to have clean water plumbed right into our homes. Travel for my day job, including a national conference in Austin (and watching a million bats fly from under the Congress Avenue Bridge). Long days, full schedules, and nights where I fell into bed completely exhausted. There were also moments of showing up for others… helping family members through injury and emotional trauma, maintaining friendships, and doing my best to stay present in all of it. It was full. It was messy. It was real life alongside the art.  Support, Mentorship, and Healing I didn’t do this alone. This year, I deepened into healing and self-worth work with a group of women who supported me in learning to live with more self-love, presence, and honesty. Through that work, and the books we studied together, I began to shift the way I speak to myself and understand my own value. I also had the support of a dear veteran friend who introduced me to Tai Chi, grounding my energy and helping me focus in a new way and learn how to tame the wild anxiety I’ve had for years. Time spent outside with my feet in the grass and on the earth, moving, breathing, and learning to be present in my body became an unexpected and powerful part of my growth. Working with a craniosacral therapist helped me recover from injuries and reconnect to parts of myself that needed care and attention after years of pushing through.  I now have rituals that help me stay in the center of my personal power and also to process life. Embedded in my life always are books… these books were invaluable this past year “You Are a Badass at Making Money” “Rise Sister Rise” and “Everything is Figureoutable” have helped me observe self-conversation and begin curating a line of conversation that will help buoy my spirit and soul for my art and for me as a human being. These relationships and practices gave me steadiness, confidence, and a deeper sense of being supported as I grew. Who I Became This past year has been about individuating —about moving into owning myself more fully. Seeing and feeling me underneath the masks. Staying in courage to unmask. I’ve learned to handle my anxiety better. To communicate in real time instead of holding things in. To speak up for my value and my time. To create space away from people and environments that didn’t allow me to feel like myself and those that were holding me in place or holding me back. And then, to return back into life, friendships, love, and art with more authenticity, warmth, and most importantly greater self-trust. Not perfectly. But honestly. Gratitude I’m deeply grateful for the people in my life who showed up for me this year… friends and family who listened, supported, shared their knowledge, gave me space to vent, helped me when I needed it, and stood beside me through all of it. I truly couldn’t have done this year without you. Closing — Forward Edge I intend to carry everything I’ve learned this past year into my art, my work, my relationships, and my life in even bigger ways. I’m scared. I’m excited. And I’m ready. Cheers to 2020. xoxo  PS
Thank you for taking the time to read about this chapter. If you’ve never paused to look back at what you’ve done in a year, it’s worth it. Take a look through your phone; I’ll bet there are a ton of pictures you took of things that made you feel good. There’s often more there than we give ourselves credit for. Beginning, Building, and Heart Don’t you love seeing a vision or dream progress and come into form? Willow Creek Road started as a homegrown idea for a short film. The road of connection between New York–based actress/writer/producer Jenna Ciralli and myself, a Montana-based actress, began through a casting director here in Montana, Tina Buckingham. From our first conversation, Jenna and I hit it off like two long-lost souls with a million things to catch each other up on. Down to my toes, I felt goosebumps telling me this was something good. We wouldn’t meet face-to-face until about six months later; through phone calls we built a strong foundation. As she developed her idea, she asked for my help in shaping early decisions and the trajectory of the film. Jenna, myself, and her stepbrother Bayard moved forward to create a crowdfunding video for Kickstarter to support pre-production and filming. Willow Creek Road changed significantly in its direction through filming and editing, challenging every inch of my creative DNA until I finally surrendered into what the project wanted to be. The film secured me a supporting actress role as Joey, along with an Executive Producer credit for fundraising, behind-the-scenes support, and assisting with visibility and outreach for the project. Through Jenna’s perseverance in pressing Willow Creek Road into the light, the film began to be received at festivals around the country. In that process, I stepped more fully into my voice... sharing my perspectives thoughtfully, learning to put my pride in check, strengthening my acting skills, and developing a deep admiration for the filmmakers and actors crafting their stories. The friendship and sisterhood that grew between Jenna and me—walking through the fires of creation, navigating challenges, and encouraging each other—is something I deeply value as we both continue forward in our artistic lives. It’s become a kind of steady, supportive energy that has shaped both of our courage. BOZEMAN International Film Festival  MINT Film Festival - Billings, Montana Photographer: Kenneth Jarecke  South Dakota Film Festival, Aberdeen Photographer: Greg Gilbertson  Recent Developments
Willow Creek Road played at the Oxford Film Festival in Mississippi. It’s slated for screening at the Seattle International Film Festival March 7, 2019 and March 16, 2019 at the New Filmmakers Film Festival in LA, and at the Maryland International Film Festival. It will premiere in the Holly Shorts Monthly Screenings in Hollywood in April 2019. The film has received accolades for cinematography, best actress-Jenna Ciralli, and has been a festival choice for award at the MINT Film Festival and Monmouth Film Festival. (Full list of awards and film festivals are found in my Film Image Gallery -Willow Creek Road ) Reflection + Moving Forward I’m excited to carry this experience forward into more auditions, more films, and continued exploration of producing. My encouragement to you, especially if you’ve been following this journey, is to remain on your path. Stay in faith. Keep choosing actions that move your work, your creativity, and your life forward 🌟 Celebrate your progress and allow success to settle into your bones —it calibrates you for more. Much love -Mary PS You can follow our film and its continuing journey on the Facebook page (Search: Willow Creek Road Film) or just click on our film name here I posted pictures earlier this summer I was cautiously pleased with… and something shifted. On a rainy day in June, I dragged an old crate out of my closet and dumped it onto my living room floor. It opened into a colorful scatter of my life—play programs, photo shoots, class certificates, behind-the-scenes snapshots from creative adventures that felt like they belonged to someone else. Kneeling there, I felt warmth in my chest—and noise in my head. I rubbed the back of my neck, trying to quiet it. As I sifted through the pile, my fingers caught on a set of black-and-white photographs. I stopped. They took my breath away. My eyes softened. Holy hell.  Leigh Kiernan | Photographer I slipped backward into the time they were taken. Early twenties. New town. Two toddlers. Single parenting. Almost no support system. I didn’t have language for boundaries or a stable sense of self yet. I absorbed everything... offhand comments, projections, quiet judgments... and turned them inward. There was also this strange assumption from the outside: if I looked a certain way, then I must be confident, fine, untouched by struggle. I wasn’t. The way I appeared and the way I felt did not match. I tried to explain that gap to people—sometimes to those who cared, sometimes just to anyone who asked. Most responses went nowhere. So I kept searching, but without tools, I defaulted to whatever voices were loudest around me. And too often, those were the ones that diminished me. Looking back, it’s not surprising the modeling I explored didn’t go anywhere. I didn’t know how to stand inside myself, let alone support what I was building. Sitting on the floor years later, those same images in my hands, something began to shift. Because the woman in those photos? She didn’t look unsure. She looked direct. Present. In control of her space. She looked like someone who already had something. And I couldn’t reconcile that with the story I had been telling myself about her. About me. Emotion rose fast—hot, disorienting, undeniable. I started to see her from the outside. And at the same time, I could feel everything she didn’t know yet. She didn’t know she would go on to act in dozens of stage productions, work in film, train in different cities, or keep showing up creatively in new ways. She didn’t know she would build a life through heartbreak, raise her children, navigate loss, or keep going through moments that would bring her to her knees—and still get back up. She didn’t know how much resilience she carried. Or that it would shape her into someone stronger, clearer, and more grounded in her spirit. And maybe most of all-- she didn’t know that the story she believed about herself wasn’t the truth. At some point in that moment, sitting on the floor, I realized: I had been hiding from my own evidence. I hide myself… from me.  Leigh Kiernan | Photographer That realization didn’t feel gentle. It felt confronting. But it also felt clean.
Because if I was the one doing the hiding, then I could also stop the hiding. In the months leading up to that quiet rainy day, I had already been doing deeper internal work... trying to take more ownership of my path, my voice, my craft. Something in me knew I was ready for a different level of honesty with myself. Those photos met me there. They didn’t ask for explanation. They didn’t negotiate. They simply showed me what was already true. Connection—with others, with our work, with our lives—is rarely neat. The connection we have with ourselves is no different. I’ve spent years trying to organize it, make it make sense, tie it up cleanly. It doesn’t work like that. For me, vulnerability isn’t polished. It’s uneven, sometimes uncomfortable, sometimes quiet, sometimes strong. It asks me to look directly at myself —without editing. And in that crate, in those photos, I saw something I hadn’t fully allowed before: evidence of effort evidence of courage evidence of someone who kept going For a moment, I let myself feel it. And then—I almost dismissed it. That old pattern. See it. Minimize it. Move on. But this time, I caught it. Instead, I stayed. I let myself acknowledge something simple and, for me, hard-earned: I was brave. Not because everything worked. Not because I had it figured out. But because I started. Because I kept going. Because I continued to move toward something I didn’t fully understand yet. That matters. More than I’ve ever allowed it to. There’s a quiet shift that happens when you begin to change the way you speak to yourself. Not in a forced or performative way... but in a way that actually lands. For a long time, my internal narrative was shaped by fear—fear of being misunderstood, criticized, dismissed. And in response, I learned to downplay myself before anyone else could. To question what was good. To hesitate where I could have stood. But those patterns aren’t permanent. They can be seen. And they can be changed. I don’t have a perfect formula for that. What I do know is this: when I stop outsourcing the authority over my own story-- and begin to take responsibility for how I see myself-- something steadies. There are still moments where I want reassurance, where I look outside myself for confirmation that I’m on the right path. And I’m grateful for the people in my life who offer support, perspective, and care. That matters too. But what those photos gave me was something different. They gave me proof. Proof that I had already been showing up. Proof that I had already begun. Proof that there was something real there—long before I knew how to name it. And that changes how I move forward. I used to wait. For clarity. For permission. For someone to reflect back to me that I was enough. Now, I understand something more grounded: that sense of enough doesn’t arrive from the outside. It begins the moment I decide to stand inside what’s already here. No more explanation needed.  Today was special. I borrowed my daughter's camera and played with what I could see through the lens and felt what landed in my soul. Regularly I restock my joy, peace, and passion for life in nature. The brilliance of colors, especially the numerous variations of green, wrapped around my heart chakra to give it a gentle hug. I felt Earth, Air, and Aethers elementals breathing —as they always do when paid attention to—the life giving energies for reinvigorating my eyes and fertilizing imagination. This month has found me in the mountains and also in an acting workshop immersed in study with the luminous Nancy Gabor. It’s also been a month of reflection and deeper discovery for what makes my soul sing brighter with more confidence and freedom. It’s been a month of finding more patience with myself as I learn to level up my craft of acting. And honestly, it's also been a month of getting a bunch of long overdue house projects and repairs done! I'm continuing to choose to be plugged in with fresh eyes and energy to press forward and upward to the next level in creativity. Open to growth. Open for love. Open to share. I hope you’ve found some time to really take in the miracle that you are on this planet. Love and peace -Mary  |
Creative writing by Mary Riitano...I'm an actress sharing my creative process through personal stories and poetry - exploring acting, growth, my voice, and my inner life as an artist. 
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