Rebel with a Cause: Author Dolores Reynals

As actor Dolores Reynals reveals in her new memoir, The Smallest Wave, personal freedom is more important to her than anything else. Having the bravery to follow the road less travelled, wherever it may lead her, has led to a life of purpose, adventure and self-discovery. To mark the book’s release, we spoke to Dolores to find out more.

Where do you think your hunger for a life defined on your own terms and personal freedom comes from?

 I think my desire for personal freedom is something I was born with, I was a very independent child and a bit of a leader. I also was always told by my parents that I had to think for myself before I followed the crowd—of my friends, of anyone. Maybe if you are conscious of this from such a young age, you are used to thinking about what you really want in your heart.

 How did your upbringing in Mendoza influence your identity and the choices you made as you ventured into different cultures?

I am a South-American-mountain person and I am totally Mendozinian. Everywhere I go, these are the eyes through which I see the world, with the wonder of someone who grew up far away from any other place, in a big country where even getting to the next province was quite a trip. I knew I wanted to live in cosmopolitan cities, around people from all over the world, one day. And coming from a smaller place, and from South America, I appreciate community, kindness and values. This doesn’t change; this is what I look for even when I am in a big city. Now I am looking for that slower pace I grew up with again: more nature around me, which may be why I am in Athens.

What drew you to acting as a profession, and how has it brought fulfilment to your life?

Playing with my younger siblings, who are triplets, when we were children. I organised two teams where we would rehearse a joke we’d heard, or a scene from a story, and then perform it to each other. My sister says she became a filmmaker so she could boss me around instead, after I made her be Juliet on the balcony many times when we were kids. I was fascinated by acting when I realised that Mary Poppins was the same woman as Maria from The Sound of Music. My grandmother explained this to me and it really struck me. I decided to really pursue it when I saw Peter Brook’s play The Man Who in Buenos Aires at the International Theatre Festival. I was studying journalism at the time and taking acting classes in the evenings. I was completely captivated by the play and the actors, and I realised at that moment that I wanted to do this fully—tell stories through performance. I knew I had to begin straight away, so I quit journalism a few weeks later. I saw how as an actor you can really get people to feel, how powerful the connection to the audience can be.

In your memoir, you explore the idea of home. How has your definition of home evolved throughout your travels?

 It’s still evolving; I think it’s quite philosophical. Perhaps I began exploring it by running away from home. When I started moving, I realised I could feel at home in a train carriage, or that by putting my things on the shelves of whatever new place I was in, however few my things were, I began to feel like I belonged there, even if it had been alien to me at first. Suddenly, home wasn’t just a place full of memories anymore. I keep discovering what home means to me—it can be a place, a person, or an activity. Right now, I’m in London, where I lived for many years and return to often for work. I love the feeling I get here. I made a home here, so it always feels welcoming. A home is wherever I am if I can relax there—where I can sleep at the end of the day, where I feel welcome and safe.

You also grapple with questions about femininity and identity in your writing. What insights have you gained about these themes through your experiences?

 What I always come back to is that I have to keep feeling out what femininity is for me, and discovering how it changes over time. We are told who we should be, how we should be, all the time. I have to make sure that I am allowing myself to be the woman I am, not who I’m supposed to be as a woman, no matter how strong the media or society’s current message is. I’m not sure how conditioned I am right now—maybe I’ll keep discovering ways I can have more and more freedom as a woman.

How do you find balance between settling down and wandering in your life and career?

I feel when it is time to settle and when it is time to move. It has to come from me, from my instinct, more than a plan or an idea in my mind. I stayed in London first for five years and then for seven. In the middle, I felt this urge to move, and I could not settle anywhere for long. I feel like there are times for movement and times for staying somewhere. And sometimes I am lost, and I let myself be lost. A few years ago, I began roaming around, carrying all my belongings with me between Mexico, Spain and Greece until I settled in Athens. I just moved here and it just happened that my work has taken me to London a few times since moving. And I love going to London. So I am finding it challenging to learn Greek because I keep leaving and coming back. I love Athens and how I feel there, so now I have to be patient while I settle in. Having friends visiting from abroad helps when I am new somewhere, and luckily I have had a few visitors already.

There have been many adventures in your life as you discover new places and meet new people. Your book is rich with such episodes, but which one in particular always brings a smile to your face?

Arriving in Mexico, because it was such a relief. Even though I was struggling personally at the time, it really helped me feel at home quickly—I felt like I belonged there. It was very healing just to be there, and I quickly met people who are still very close to me.

What was your writing process like for The Smallest Wave? Were there any surprises during the journey of writing your memoir?

 I began writing just before the pandemic, so it was a good time for me—work had stopped almost completely, and I could focus on writing and following my own rhythm. Sometimes I wrote all night, sometimes during the day. I began to sort of open up memories, to remember things I had forgotten, and this meant that some days I was diving into something very funny, laughing out loud, while other days I was dealing with sad memories, with nothing to bring me out of them. I began writing in cafés as soon as I could, so I could come back to earth more easily. I was in Los Angeles, and my neighbourhood was full of cafés with writers in them, so it was nothing unusual for me to be writing and laughing by myself. Then there came a time when it became a bit painful to write about certain things, and I left the book for almost a year. I returned to it when I felt ready, and I’m glad I didn’t rush myself.

 Now the book is published, what one thing about it are you most proud of?

 I’m glad that I found the courage to share it. I was scared of putting my work out there, and at one point, I thought I might just put it in a drawer. But in the end, sharing the art is the most fulfilling part.

Your story is, in many ways, a celebration of resilience. Can you share a specific instance where your resilience was tested and what you learned from it?

 I think arriving in London, with so much to do ahead of me—the culture shock and the slim chance of finishing university while juggling two jobs, sometimes three—tested my resilience. I didn’t have a loan or any financial support. If I had to go back, I’m not sure if I would do it again. I used to never have a day off, and I once fainted from exhaustion. The doctor said I had a nervous breakdown from never resting. I began to learn that I really did have to stop if I wanted to be healthy and even finish university. I barely managed to do it. Since then, I do pause, with or without guilt.

What are your hopes for the future, both personally and professionally, as you continue your journey of exploration and self-discovery?

 I hope that I keep sharing art, whatever I do next, and that I live with gratitude. I’d like to continue moving through any fears that have been holding me back. I just turned 45, and it feels like a mid-life expansion—I’m not going to waste time. Right now, I’m producing a film about an Argentinian tango singer who very few people know of—she was the first woman to record on the radio. She changed the reality for women there, and I want everyone to know about her. Her life is incredibly inspiring.

The Smallest Wave by Dolores Reynals is out on Amazon now, priced £12.99 in paperback and £3.19 as an eBook. Visit www.doloresreynals.com