We recently connected with Shay Holland and have shared our conversation below.
Shay , thanks for taking the time to share your stories with us today Can you talk to us about how you’ve thought about whether to sign with an agent or manager?
One of the questions I get asked most is, “How do I get an agent?” There is no magic formula. I think creatives too often buy into the limiting belief that our careers will only take off once we get representation. And sometimes that is true. But I’ve booked most of my biggest opportunities, including HGTV, on my own.
I currently have three agents: my hosting agent—someone I had met at a workshop years earlier and who remembered me when a major casting came up in my area of expertise; my agent for pitching shows who I met through a referral; and my commercial agent who I reached out to via email. I got my first ever representation as a young reporter when an agent saw me on someone else’s demo reel (this is why I say make sure you’re the star of your reel!). Up until the last few years, I had a difficult time getting signed in LA since I am not the “big personality” type, I was stuck in my newscaster delivery style and not that long ago dark-skinned talent like me were not in demand.
We hear all the time that agents sign talent who are already working and I’ve found that to be true. Part of my strategy has been to reach out to agents right after I’ve booked jobs on my own. Since agents and managers only make money when their clients make money, they need to know someone is able to represent the agency professionally, engage an audience and sustain a career. I create social media content to show them what I’m capable of and even when I do have representation, I’m always expanding my network. It’s important to be building relationships and not just be self-promoting; that way people are willing to put their name out there on your behalf if prospects align down the road.
I’ve had some fantastic agents and some with whom I didn’t book any work at all. In my experience, it’s rare to find the “perfect” representation—someone who shares your life/career vision and that you have a bond with and who will move mountains to get you in the right rooms. With faith and experience, whether represented or not, you learn to become your own best advocate.
Shay , love having you share your insights with us. Before we ask you more questions, maybe you can take a moment to introduce yourself to our readers who might have missed our earlier conversations?
I’m a TV host and interior designer on HGTV’s “Unfinished Business” and I have a new home renovation series in development. My dad was a self-taught craftsman and when I was a kid, he would take me searching for vintage treasures we could restore to spruce up our military housing. After retiring from the Army, he took a job getting houses ready to sell. He avoided confined spaces due to PTSD and so he would take me to sites and have me climb into crawl spaces and under sinks to check for leaks and other problems. I was fascinated by the architecture and later joined Habitat for Humanity so I could learn how to build houses and eventually earn my contractors license. Ironically, moving to Hollywood to pursue a creative career was never even a thought. Growing up on Army bases, I had always been in male-dominated environments where survival skills were paramount and so after journalism school I gravitated toward becoming a war correspondent. My “real” career as an investigative crime reporter had eventually put me on a path to network news.
Fast forward to what I thought would be a summer break at the Southern California coast….I never left. It was a risky move without a job but I knew I was done covering crime. I spent the next several years working survival jobs, convinced at times that I had made a huge mistake. I struggled to pivot into more creative storytelling because of my distinct broadcaster style that doesn’t work for hosting or acting. But with coaching from Marki Costello (Become A Host Studios), I had started booking hosting gigs.
Jump to 2020. The pandemic shut down all my prospects overnight. I packed up to move back to the Midwest but my gut said to stay in LA. I had been leading a group for on-air personalities that had grown to 3K+ members (Hosts in LA). To keep us motivated during the lockdown, I began hosting Zoom interviews with agents and casting directors. I was interviewing media coach/casting director Barbara Barna Abel when we somehow got on the topic of using power tools—abilities I hadn’t included in my resume’s special skills section. Barbara suggested that I might be overlooking my “superpower.” Just days later a friend tagged me in a casting in Hosts in LA’s Facebook group for a co-host for a new home renovation series. I initially brushed it off—I didn’t even have a demo reel. But scrolling on my phone later, I came across videos of design projects that I had done and it hit me that I could edit them together and make a reel. Even though I finished too late, I submitted it anyway. The next day I got a call from the casting director. She had been conducting a months-long nationwide search for a designer for a new HGTV series and had decided to include me with the finalists. That was when I learned the casting was for HGTV. I booked the job off of my one-and-a-half minute demo reel! Through the detours, I’ve learned to accept the peculiar truth that closed doors are often preparing us for the unseen impossible. Now instead of chasing doom and gloom news stories, I get to tell redemptive stories through design in a way that I never could have imagined.
We often hear about learning lessons – but just as important is unlearning lessons. Have you ever had to unlearn a lesson?
My siblings and I were raised to value hard work and determination so it’s not surprising that we climbed to the top of the ladder in sports, education and our careers. But somewhere up the ladder, I realized my heart was barely beating. I had to unlearn the climb.
I remember exactly when I shut down creatively. In my first TV news job, I was assigned to cover a hostage drama about a man holding a mother and several young children captive in their home. Police finally convinced him to release the children. I pre-scripted my breaking news story so that I would be ready to go on air as soon as the last child was safe. But then hours turned into sunset; sunset into sunrise. Things were too quiet. A SWAT team stormed the house. Concealing the sound of gunshots by forcing the mom and kids into the basement, the man had already killed them all, including himself.
I remember feeling such intense pain especially for the innocent kids—their story was supposed to have had a happy ending. I went into one of the newsroom’s private sound-proof editing rooms and wept on the floor. That day I made a vow that I would never, ever let a story hurt like that again. I composed myself and walked out with a brand new steel heart.
By the time I decided to quit the grind, storytelling for me had devolved into mere headlines and sound bites. And my creativity? I had no clue how to restart that heartbeat. I simply knew that when I designed spaces and built buildings, I wasn’t torturing myself to find identity and success anymore. The wonder at unearthing a vintage treasure or a piece of artwork that whispers to the soul was returning. And the more people who saw my designs and asked me to create spaces for them, the more I realized I was helping rebuild more than just walls and rooms.
Do you think there is something that non-creatives might struggle to understand about your journey as a creative? Maybe you can shed some light?
It was very difficult for my family to watch me struggle when the odds of making it in Hollywood are about a billion to one. LA is vastly different from the Army bases and small towns where I grew up. My childhood friends and I often joke that it seems as if I went away to Mars to study their foreign customs—like breakdowns and bookings and pitching and pilots. In many other careers, there is a clear path up the ranks and everyone starts at the same entry level—like a medical intern, production assistant or sports rookie. “Success” is often defined by a title—doctor, director, starting player—and the accompanying perks. But often for creatives, there is no singular path or definition of success. What one creative considers “making it” another creative might consider an intermediate achievement. Non-creatives are genuinely bewildered about the “process” and wonder why we are “stuck” in the same place as time goes by and we have yet to book something big or make a living wage off of our talent. It’s often hard for them to celebrate an unpredictable journey that they would never choose for themselves. It can feel like they don’t believe in us but I’ve learned it’s not really fair to expect my non-creative loved ones to endure with me under the burden of hope deferred. I’ve come to understand that they were truly afraid for me being so far from home with no fallback plan and no prospects in sight. I’ve drained my life savings more than once and cried nonstop for six hours driving back from San Francisco after a final callback for a golden opportunity that went to someone else. I understand that the degree of uncertainty I live with is terrifying for many people. Even in Hollywood I’ve learned it’s rare to find my tribe; nearly every creative I met when I started this journey has packed up and left. I heard this speaker say, “Find people who have the same battle scars as you and are still standing. Because those are the ones who will stand with you.”
Contact Info:
- Instagram: www.instagram.com/shayhollandofficial
- Facebook: www.facebook.com/groups/hostsinla
- Linkedin: www.linkedin.com/in/shayholland