The people that "always knew"....

I was at a premiere recently and bumped into one of my very first acting coaches.  The guy who when I was doing a scene for class stopped me and said, "I don't know what you're doing up there.  But it's like you're masturbating.  Because you're the only one enjoying it."

Wow. Thanks buddy.

Now this time when I saw him, it was all "You're amazing (blah blah), so talented (yeah yeah) and I ALWAYS KNEW you'd be the one to make it."

Incredible how everyone "always knew" once it starts happening.  Go figure.

 

 

Another interview from WA

I was contacted by a Canadian actress to answer a few questions about the industry and my experience.  A little Working Actress nourishment to get you through the weekend ;)

Check it out here

xo

Dear actress friend of mine-

So you go to acting school. You study theater. You do some Chekhov and Ibsen. Maybe a little Greek tragedy too. You're the best in your class. You move to Hollywood. You get an agent. And a manager.

And you start booking small roles. Then big ones. You're climbing up the ladder. You get a lawyer. A publicist. You're doing movies. And recurring roles. And you're a series regular.

People know who you are. You are fancy and respectable and even answer fan mail.

You book an arc on a major network show. You get to your trailer, and find two pairs of panties hanging with a little note that reads:

"Pick one. xo- Wardrobe"

And you can only laugh because as absurd as it is, and how you're caught off guard that you have to be in your undies for this scene (a fun fact that was never mentioned beforehand), and how your blood may want to boil.... the silver lining is that they give a shit which panties you like.

And somehow, in this perverse insane and ridiculous industry, that no, does not do network adaptations of "The Seagull," or care that you maybe played Medea for a trimester.....this fact, the fact that they let you choose which skivvies you want to wear when your ass is in high def, this somehow matters.

Now how fucked up is that?

I love you. Stick with it badass.

Just another day in the life

I get to the Sony lot today, and drive up to the rooftop of the parking structure, because it brings back such amazing memories.

Off to a good start.

I walk to the elevators, and see this:



Which makes me want to cry, not because it will be a hard walk down, but because I have been trying to shake a cold for a week, I feel like shit, and this is now feeling like a "just my luck" kinda day.

I walk down the stairs, get through security, past hoards of people waiting to be studio audience for Jeopardy, walk across the lot, around the commissary, and down Main Street to finally arrive at the casting office.

I rip my scarf off, sit down, and realize that I am dripping sweat. Not because I was running, or because it was hot out (because it wasn't -- it was cold and miserable) -- I look like a hog because I am sick. Nasty, lurking in my body to rear it's ugly head at the worst possible moment-kinda sick.

Mind you, I'm supposed to be hot for this audition. Network TV aspirational hot. Which is so far from what is actually happening.

The casting associate comes out and asks me if I need a minute (could he see the sweat beading on my chest?), but I say no because (let's be honest) I kind of want to get it over with.

Thankfully, I know these CDs, and the producers are just going to cast off tape, so there aren't as many people to woo. They're sweet and understanding; they give me a pack of Emergen-C and some water and tell me they wished they looked like me when they were sick. They're lying, but I'll take it.

The read was shockingly good. That's what they said at least. Not the "shockingly" part -- they didn't say that, that was me being self-critical.

I walk across the lot, up the seven flights of stairs, through a puddle where I drench my boots, and settle into my car.

And then you get home and get ready to do it all over again.

Back to the grind

I have to say it's weird to be back to the hustle. The printing of sides, learning material, checking in with the guard gate, waiting awkwardly because they somehow don't have your name on the list-hustle.

Since I've been back to LA, I've had a few reads; some of which I passed on, others that I went in for happily (though let's be honest, I'd rather be working).

But here's what happens when you've been away for a while: you forget.

Not only do you forget how to do it (the charming of the room, the ability to "audition" vs the ability to just "act," which are two very different techniques to master), but you forget the things that a few months ago were second nature to you. So much so that when the guard offers you one of these:



...you actually have to take it. Because the autopilot that your mind used to be on (that could have you enter a studio lot, run your lines in your head, and turn through the maze of little alleys until you somehow arrive at the casting office)....well, it's defunct. So there you are with your little map, looking like a tourist, trying to navigate this place that not so long ago, you knew so well you could have been a tour guide.

And there's more. You forget about the sign in sheet (how you see whose been in, what their agency is). You are reminded of how bitchy some of the girls can be. How they pretend like they're not checking you out as they glance at their lines and size each other up. You forget how much you want to cringe when the walls are thin between the waiting room and the audition room, and you can HEAR every single line coming out of someone else's mouth. But not the way you prepared it...

Thankfully though, the one thing that I didn't do after this audition was say some dipshitty thing when they told me I did a "beautiful job," and thanked me for coming in. I just said "thank you."

That's a lie. Actually, I said "no worries," and then I said "thank you," and paused to think of something nervous and awkward to say, but was feeling a little sick so my shitty wit was in poor form, and I left it at that. Thank God.

Gonna use the weekend to get my sea legs and try to dive back into the world of being a professional auditioner.

Genius

This was made by actor, Richard Ruccolo, depicting the actor/agent relationship.

Amazing.

Bittersweet

Wrapping a production is bittersweet. Maybe for some people it's just work, and they can quickly move on and right to the next project. Not me.

For me, it's more like camp. (Or what I imagine what leaving camp would be like, had my parents indulged me in that summer ritual of kumbayas and smores).

You spend a huge chunk of time with the same people -- you eat your meals together, you work together, you grab drinks and see movies together (like "Wall Street, Money Never Dies," which my costar and I found to be the best comedy of the year, and could not stop laughing throughout -- yes, we were those people) -- they become your fake new family. Fake, because it's temporary and fleeting, and chances are you won't be inviting them to your wedding one day. But nevertheless, "family," because they are your reality for over a month.

And for that cluster of time, you can't help but become invested.

I recently wrapped the project I was working on, and packed up my things to come back home. I stuffed my clothes into three massive bags, put a box together of paper towels, TP, and groceries to give to my costar who was staying on a few weeks longer, and said goodbye to what had been my temporary home. I was almost in tears.

We spend so much time trying to get a job, that when you finally have one, there is a sadness that greets you when the job ends. The fear of when the next job will come, the loneliness of how transient your work is, and the feeling you get when the best party has to come to an end. "But I was having so much fun! I don't want the party to end. I want to keep dancing!" -- at least that's what it feels like to me. I never want the party to end.

The silver lining: coming back after a long flight, a whirlwind of emotions, and a dreadful cold...and walking into your home, sweet, home.

Watching your own work

I hate watching my own work. I've always hated it.

Always.

Even at the beginning, when my jobs were few and far between, I just felt embarrassed sitting at home and watching myself in some random scene. Back then, I thought it was embarrassing because it wasn't enough. I was better than the girl that said "Hi," even though I knew it was part of paying my dues.

Despite knowing that, I still hated watching my work.

Yes, you can learn from it. Yes, it's productive. And yes, it's something to be proud of (even if it's just one line, or one word...you beat out a lot of people to get that part).

But it is also: mortifying, self-indulgent, a little ridiculous, and breeds self-doubt, paranoia, and criticism. Unless you're a narcissist, and can watch yourself over and over again. I just can't do it.

My first date with my boyfriend, which was many many moons ago, he said to me, "So after dinner my buddy's girlfriend is having a party for this show she's on tonight, if you wanna go."

I said: "Oh fun! What show?"

Him: "This thing called, ________, it's on [major network], and she's guest starring."

Me: "Is her name [blah blah]?"

Him: "Yeah! How weird. Do you know her?"

Me: "Well yeah. I worked with her on that episode. I guest starred too."

Him: "Wait, in the same episode? So you're on TV tonight?"

Me: "Yes."

Him: "Why aren't you watching it?"

He was so confused, and I remember the look on his face so vividly (the "what kind of actress doesn't want to watch herself on TV-face")

Me: "Because we have a date."

And I meant it. The date was more important to me.

Meanwhile, for him, I think he saw angels, and thought I was the most non actress-y actress he'd ever met. Which is probably why he's stuck around for so long.

I think you have to trust your work, enjoy the process, and walk away from it. Because so many factors can happen by the time it airs that can make you cringe (they edit it and leave your worst take, they cut your entire scene, you hate how you look, you start self-censoring the dumb looks you make, etc, etc).

Because there's nothing worse than inviting people over to watch you on a show, only to realize that all of your scenes have been cut out. The awkward silence of friends sitting there so sympathetically and the one brave one who asks, "Was that it?"

Not worth it.

I love fortune cookies