As though to prepare me for our Wild West Murder Mystery weekend that’s coming up, we staged a train robbery at our firearms workshop this weekend. I did not get to be one of the people firing. As luck would have it, I played the damsel-in-distress. Our teacher, Nick Sandys, mentioned that there should always be at least one person in a large gunfight like that who should not have a gun, as it allows the audience to connect more with the scene.

The gunshots were numbered. Certain ones had to happen before certain others, and there was an emphasis on reacting to each shot entirely rather than letting it degenerate into a clamour of explosions. I had a lot of fun ducking behind chairs, shrieking and pushing armed people in front of me. As the unarmed participant, you also add a chaos/realism factor to the firefight.

It’s strange that as one of the more strictly controlled weapons — the one that requires arguably the most concentration and safety — firearms tend to be used almost improvisationally. You fire when and where there is a clear lane. The rhythm tends to be different every time, as people react and move slightly differently wth each shot fired. You don’t fall into the same sort of movement. And that opens your mind when you’re doing other fights. Firearms thus far is closest to unarmed in its sort of loose feel.

I received my SAFD Firearms Safety Certificate. I am not certified, though. The SAFD is very semantic in its language. I hope more organized people at the top of the chain will make the standards a little more clear. If its members are confused as to what their documentation actually means, then the outside world certainly will have a hard time understanding it.

But, I could wrangle guns on a set if I were asked. I do wish that the SAFD would be more clear also in when one should refuse to do something for free, when one should refuse to do something altogether and perhaps provide more documentation for a fight director or gun wrangler to use in case a theater or director refuses to act on the advice of that person. The paperwork is way more intimidating than a towering, strong man saying “No,” in his best James Earl Jones.

The whole weekend was a blast, all things considered. I had time to contemplate life in the big city. While I am still a little intimidated, I do have to wonder why. After all, there are people living there who are far more frail — emotionally as well as physically — than I am, and they do just fine. Eventually, I will have to take that plunge if I really want to pursue acting and stunts as a career.

Speaking (writing) of plunges. the other major fear in my progression is the stunt workshop. Falling, fire, explosions… they are all in my near future and I hav to say I am a little terrified. Pain has never really been a problem for me. But the possible physical transformation that pain is often herald to… that frightens me. I can stand for bruises, cuts, even broken bones. As soon as we are talking scars, limps, or a reduction in my ability to perform in some way, however, you will see me blanch. Hell, I’m still afraid of needles because as safe as they obviously are, I still fear that one that has a bubble of air in it that stops my heart.

I need to be able to fight things. I suppose I identify with Buffy in that way; I fear what I cannot physically overcome. And when it is a physical threat like disease or irrevocable physical damage, I find myself quaking. That’s what I mean when I say to my fight friends that I am fragile. I don’t mind taking several hard shots to the gut, take after take. Bruises heal. But when you scratch my face with your fingernail, you will find me not such a tough guy.

I guess this makes me a good teacher of stage combat, a good fight director and a good actor combatant, but stuntmen are expected to do death-defying things without thinking twice. You have to simply trust yourself and your safety crew. There are precautions in place. It is that trust that I am lacking. Not just in other people, but in myself as well.

It all comes down to the header. That’s a high fall where you fall head-first for the majority of the distance, then turn over onto your back, flattening out so that your energy is dispersed equally onto the bag. For realism and safety, you have to turn over rather late into the fall and do it quickly and precisely. Too early is still relatively safe, but you might not get the shot. Time is money on a film set. You are going to be fired, or told to do it again or be fired. You might not be hired again.

But too late and you will essentially land on your head, most likely causing severe damage to your neck and spine. your crew should help if you’re a little late, but there’s not much they can do. And even if you turn over at the right time, you still have to flatten out properly or the bag will throw you, possibly breaking something in the process.

David Boushey has said many times that he has yet to break a bone in all his stuntwork. You just have to be smart about it, he would say. But he has a confidence in himself, like many of my stunt friends, that I simply lack. You gotta believe. That might be the hardest part of anything in life. You gotta believe.

And that’s why I have to do this stunt thing. If I never get work, that’s not as important as doing something that absolutely terrifies me. Something that likely won’t get me killed.