For a while, Ithought ‘casting type’ was just a polite industry way of putting you in a box.
I didn’t want abox. I wanted range. I wanted to be surprising. I wanted to be the actor no onecould pin down.
So I did what Ithink a lot of actors do at the beginning: I tried to be everything. Inauditions, I’d search for an edge. If the character was kind, I’d make hersharper. If she was vulnerable, I’d layer in toughness. I thought complexitymeant adding more.
But over time,certain patterns became impossible to ignore.
The same kinds ofnotes came back to me. The same energy was commented on. The same adjectivesresurfaced in different rooms.
At first, thatfrustrated me. I worried that being seen as warm meant being seen as simple. Ididn’t want to be underestimated. There’s a quiet pressure in acting to proveyou can access darkness, severity, hardness. I found myself subtly tighteningin auditions — lowering my voice, holding eye contact a fraction longer thanfelt natural, trying to project a kind of steel.
And every time Idid that, something felt slightly off.
“The turning pointwasn’t some big epiphany — it was something more practical than that.”
I watched back aself-tape where I hadn’t tried so hard. I’d been tired. I hadn’t overthoughtit. I’d just read it simply, honestly, without adding weight that wasn’t there.
It was better. Notbigger or flashier. Just clearer.
That’s when Istarted paying attention to what actually felt effortless. The performancesthat landed weren’t the ones where I transformed myself into somethingunrecognisable — although I certainly enjoyed those too. They were the oneswhere I allowed my natural instincts to lead: listening closely, thinkingquickly, reacting truthfully.
I realised castingtype isn’t about the full extent of what you can do. It’s about the initialenergy you give off before you try to manipulate it.
Before you speak,you communicate something. The way you hold your body. The way your face rests.The way your voice naturally sits. That baseline matters more than we like toadmit.
When I stoppedfighting mine, things sharpened.
There’s alwaysgoing to be a learning curve, but I try not to walk into a room guarded. Idon’t project distance — I focus on connection.
Once I acceptedthat, my choices got more specific. I stopped asking ‘how can I make this moreimpressive?’ and started asking ‘what is truthful here?’.
It also changedhow I approached headshots. I’d previously chased intensity — moodier lighting,more dramatic expressions. But when I looked at the photos that felt most likeme, they were the ones where my expression was open, alert, alive. Not smiling broadly,not blank. Just present.
It’s uncomfortableto admit this, but ego plays a huge role in resisting your casting type. Wewant to believe we’re limitless. And creatively, we are limitless.
But that doesn’tmean you’re stuck there forever. Type evolves. As you age, as your lifeexperience deepens, the same qualities can translate differently. Openness canbecome steadiness. Warmth can become authority. Intelligence can become quietpower.
At any givenmoment, though, it helps to know what you naturally communicate. Once I stoppedtrying to override that, auditions felt calmer. More precise. I wasn’tscrambling to prove my entire range in an hour or less. I was building fromsomething solid. And there’s freedom in that.
If you’re tryingto figure out your own casting type: look at the evidence, not your ambition.What roles do you consistently get called in for? What feedback repeats itself?When do directors lean forward instead of politely nodding?
But also — don’tneglect yourself. What do you want to do? Where do you want to go? How do youget there from where you are right now?
Casting type isn’ta verdict on your talent. It’s the industry’s shorthand for how you read rightnow — not your potential, not how many characters you can be in a five-minuteself-tape. Embrace it. Work with it. Let it be the foundation, not the ceiling.
Nicole’s pointabout headshots is one we hear a lot: the photos that feelmost ‘you’ are rarely the ones where you tried the hardest. Getting thatnatural, present expression on camera takes a relaxed environment and aphotographer who knows how to create one. That’s exactly what Mark focuses onat every headshot session — whether you’re shooting for Spotlight, a personalportfolio, or your first set of professional images.
Book actor headshots at Dock Street Studio, Leeds: dockstreetstudioleeds.co.uk
Actor • Copywriter • Lighting assistant, Dock Street StudioLeeds
Nicole is a working actor and copywriter based in Leeds. Sheis part of the Dock Street Studio team, contributing guest articles on actingcraft, the industry, and the role of strong visual presentation in an actor’scareer. Her writing draws on lived experience in auditions, training, andprofessional practice.
