Loggers in the performing arts shine a light on how they make their way in the business of show business.

Jenn Ruzumna 鈥95 knows what it looks like to navigate a non-linear path in the show business industry, driven by the love of it. After earning her degree in theatre arts from Puget Sound, Ruzumna interned at Tacoma Actors Guild before getting married and having children, 鈥渞elatively young, considering,鈥 she laughs. 鈥淚 did keep my foot in theater all these years, but I was definitely really centered around family life most of the time,鈥 says Ruzumna.
Around 2015, she decided to recommit to herself as an artist. 鈥淚 did my first audition in probably 15 years,鈥 Ruzumna says. 鈥淚 remember being so nervous.鈥 From that audition, she was able to secure an agent and start building a resume in film. In the last decade, she鈥檚 worked as a playwright, artistic associate at Seattle Public Theater鈥攁 role which includes mentorship and fundraising鈥攁nd has starred as the titular character in 惭补谤肠颈别鈥檚, an independent film now available on Apple TV+.
More opportunities dot the horizon, Ruzumna says, as she steps into the next season of her life as an empty nester鈥攊n the spring, her youngest graduated from high school and is off to pursue acting himself, a dream that Ruzumna says was hopefully fed by the fact that he got to watch his mother pursue that passion throughout his childhood.
The journey wasn鈥檛 always easy. It included a lot of work for often not enough pay, and without the support of her husband, she says, the money she makes through the arts would not be enough to make ends meet. Even so, Ruzumna encourages her son鈥檚 artistic ideals because 鈥淚 think art is a form of activism. It鈥檚 community-building, and I really believe that storytelling is where we see each other鈥檚 humanity. That鈥檚 been the north star that keeps me going.鈥
Ruzumna is one of dozens of Loggers walking unconventional paths to rewarding careers in the show business industry. For some, that looks like making their way鈥攐ften solo and as independent contractors鈥攖hrough the worlds of comedy, film, theater, and more; for others, pursuing a career in the arts through an established institution offers an opportunity for financial stability and a chance to approach their artistry from a different angle. All of them, however, share a love of the art-making itself: a quality that keeps them engaged in what can be a difficult but incredibly rewarding line of work.

'Finding people you love and making each other laugh'
Jordan Moeller 鈥15 and Sarah McKinley 鈥14 (who uses the stage name Sarah Kylie) were both members of Puget Sound鈥檚 improv sketch comedy group Ubiquitous They (UT), and both cite community as a main component that keeps them grounded during the grind that is being a comedian based in Los Angeles.
McKinley, who specializes in improv and sketch comedy, pays the bills by working odd jobs that don鈥檛 take up too much creative energy, such as dog-sitting, working as a background actor, and even taking on shifts as a janitor at IKEA. Even so, she says she feels more joyful than ever, despite the hard work and juggling schedules. 鈥淚 think the best part is finding people that you love and just making each other laugh,鈥 she says.
Moeller, who specializes in solo character work, says he鈥檚 been 鈥減leasantly surprised鈥 by the communal spirit of the comedy scene in Los Angeles, especially for an industry where the competition can be cutthroat. 鈥淎 lot of my best friends are just people I鈥檝e collaborated with,鈥 he says. 鈥淚t鈥檚 a generally welcoming environment. People are kind.鈥

Having fun is part of what keeps him working on his art while balancing a full-time job as a communications manager for a social justice philanthropic organization based out of New York鈥攁 role that he is passionate about. Doing comedy on the side, he says, feels like a more sustainable option. And though he鈥檇 still love to live in a world in which he鈥檚 able to make all his money through comedy, he says that as he鈥檚 gotten older, he鈥檚 become more content. 鈥淚鈥檓 at a point in my life where, even if that kind of breakthrough doesn鈥檛 happen, it doesn鈥檛 mean that I won鈥檛 be creatively fulfilled,鈥 Moeller says. 鈥淎t this point, I鈥檓 doing this for the love of the game.鈥
'But then the next hurdle comes'
Allie Lawrence 鈥18 is treading a similar path in New York City, where she鈥檚 been steadily climbing the ranks of the comedy scene since 2019. When she first moved to New York, Lawrence鈥攚ho double-majored in English and theatre arts and was also a member of UT鈥攚orked full-time in publishing as a marketing and publicity assistant, and many of her goals as a performer were sidelined. After the pandemic, she more seriously pursued stand-up and built up to bigger and longer performances, including, most recently, a 30-minute solo show, Quiet Kid.
Five years ago, her goals focused on venues where she wanted to perform鈥攆eathers in her cap that made her feel like she could call herself a comedian. 鈥淣ow I鈥檝e done shows at many of those dream venues, which is really exciting,鈥 Lawrence says. 鈥淏ut then the next hurdle comes.鈥

For Lawrence, that next hurdle is her long-term goal of making a living fully through creative work. For the past few years, she鈥檚 balanced comedy gigs with work as a caf茅 manager, which she鈥檚 leveraged into part of her online persona. Her 鈥淏arista Diaries鈥 videos on Instagram and TikTok鈥攚hich document her often-ridiculous encounters with customers as a 鈥渂ean tender鈥濃攐ften go viral and have earned her a decent-sized following. And while alumni across the board tend to agree that social media is not their favorite landscape for creativity, they admit having an online audience helps.
鈥淚 try to think of it as a tool,鈥 says Lawrence, who says she鈥檚 鈥渘ot a social media person鈥 though she now has more than 50,000 TikTok followers. 鈥淚t can create opportunity and connection in a really cool way.鈥
'Cool, weird projects that might just change your whole outlook on show business'

Allegra Ritchie 鈥18, who holds a master鈥檚 degree in theater and works as an assistant professor of voice and speech in the theater department at Pennsylvania State University, took an unexpected path to her full-time employment in the industry.
Ritchie was a sociology and anthropology major with a minor in French and had a party trick knack for accents; a bartender until the pandemic, she earned a graduate degree at Cal State Long Beach and then landed the job at Penn State, where her endless curiosity and creativity have thrived. Academia offers her access to myriad interesting projects, from her directorial debut in collaboration with a former-student-turned-playwright at The Edinburgh Festival Fringe in August 2025 to her recent auditing of a puppetry class, which took her to the Northeastern Regional Puppetry Festival. 鈥淚f you鈥檙e willing to say yes to them,鈥 Ritchie says, 鈥渢here are so many opportunities that arise for cool, weird projects that might just change your whole outlook on show business.鈥
'To scratch that itch'
Also making a full-time career in the arts through a series of 鈥測eses鈥 is Megan Ahiers 鈥06, who moved to Seattle after graduating and got involved in a volunteer-run festival called The 14/48 Projects. The concept: staging 14 premiere plays in 48 hours. Overnight, playwrights create 10-minute plays, which a group of actors then rehearses throughout the day and performs that evening. Then: rinse and repeat.
鈥淚t鈥檚 a completely community-driven event,鈥 Ahiers says. 鈥淚t鈥檚 about getting people who don鈥檛 normally collaborate into rooms together鈥攆rom people who work with the big equity houses to people who run their own tiny things in a basement.鈥

Ahiers and her partner are responsible for turning the festival into a non-profit, which also allowed them to turn it into their full-time jobs. Ahiers, a rare breed of creative who also has Type A tendencies, was the perfect person to take on a project that included, she says, an unbelievable amount of paperwork. In 2013, 14/48 earned tax-exempt status, which has since allowed it to launch partner programs in London, Austin, and Hollywood.
Thanks to her experience setting up and running the backend logistics of the venture, Ahiers has earned herself a career as an arts administrator. She now works for the Seattle-based firm Scandiuzzi Krebs, which supports culture and community-building organizations, while still serving as operations director for The 14/48 Projects.
鈥淎nd I still act, probably in a play once a year or so,鈥 Ahiers laughs. 鈥淵ou know, to scratch that itch.鈥
'The live arts are something that feeds the soul and builds community'
Ahiers would describe herself as a producer of 14/48, which for her includes many logistical and planning details. For Ken Willman 鈥82, P鈥15, P鈥18, however, producing means being a patron of the arts by investing in shows at the Broadway level.
An artist himself, Willman started off at Puget Sound as a music major with a love of conducting. He was soon struck by the competitiveness of the field and the apparent difficulty of earning a living in the arts. So, he shifted to a double major in economics and politics and government, and went on to earn a law degree in 1986.

With a successful global career in finance and law, Willman found himself in a very different position than he once might have when he imagined himself standing before an audience as a symphonic conductor: He was a person who could, because of his means, help make the artistic system go.
In 2012, Willman was invited to join the board of The 5th Avenue Theatre in Seattle, where the Willmans鈥 daughter was involved in educational programs and high school productions. By the summer of 2013, Ken and Rosemary Willman had their first opportunity to invest in a Broadway show alongside one of Willman鈥檚 fellow 5th Avenue directors who was among the show鈥檚 lead producers.
Since then, the Willmans have delved into co-producing musicals鈥攚hich are particularly close to Ken Willman鈥檚 heart鈥攁nd plays, having had a hand in more than 50 different productions. The two of them have collected Tonys for their involvement in Parade, Hadestown, and just recently Sunset Blvd., and Oliviers for Come from Away and Dear England. It鈥檚 gratifying, he says, to support because 鈥渢he live arts are something that feeds the soul and builds community.鈥
Certainly, there are safer ways to invest one鈥檚 money鈥攎any shows lose money, and most barely break even鈥攂ut being at the right place at the right time, as they were with Come from Away, could mean a handsome return on investment.
鈥淚t鈥檚 a delicate balance,鈥 Willman says of choosing which projects to get involved with. 鈥淚t鈥檚 a continuum. On one hand, we try to select stories that we think are really important to be told; on the other, it鈥檚 also good to have some shows that make a good commercial profit. It鈥檚 kind of like putting together a venture capital portfolio.鈥
Of course, it鈥檚 also about the heart of the thing: caring about the industry itself. And Willman does care. In another life, he is there in the pit, eight shows a week, holding the project together in a completely different way. There is a part of him, he says, that does ache for this life: who wonders what might have been. Sometimes, he says, when he鈥檚 alone in his office, he鈥檒l put on a beloved symphony, close his eyes, and conduct.
'It鈥檚 all about joy and community'
Success in the world of show business is an ever-moving target鈥攁 personal arc that never really ends. One goal is met, and a new one appears. A dream is shifted for something like stability, but the shadow of the dream never really disappears. Working artists make constant trade-offs and sacrifices; they hustle, they pivot, they partner with and push back against institutions. And in the end, for many of them, there is one real thread tying them: They love creating the art itself. The process is the point.
鈥淓ven if the industry fell into the Earth鈥檚 core and disappeared forever鈥擨 love my friends, and I love what we鈥檙e making together,鈥 says McKinley. 鈥淚t鈥檚 all about joy and community. I鈥檒l do it for the rest of my life.鈥
Zoe Branch 鈥18 is a Brooklyn-based poet, essayist, and journalist. She makes a living primarily by writing custom, on-the-spot poems for strangers on a typewriter, which she does on the street, at events, and on the internet. She publishes a regular newsletter, Due Regards, and co-hosts a weekly poetry + comedy podcast, Poking Around.