Wishing & Waiting

Yesterday, the Secret Actor (for those unaware of my relationship with The Guardian's columnist, should read here first) wrote about getting acting roles out of the blue when you haven't even auditioned for them. The SA makes my blood boil at the best of times, but on a morning when I've been planing a blog about my current inability to even get an audition, it erupted in a way that even Eyjafjallajokull would admire.

Y'see, getting auditions lately has been tough. Whether it's a lack of decent work out there or just because I'm not that employable at the moment, for some reason I'm just not getting much acting work right now. I've been well aware that as the months have gone by that, so far, 2013 is not the year I'm going to find myself in a 'Ones To Watch' style article but the realisation really whacked me round the face a couple of weeks ago.

I applied for an acting job that I was PERFECT for. Every single aspect of it described me. It wasn't even a particularly lucrative or exciting job but I matched every single thing they asked for. In fact, I matched maybe three of the eight or so roles on offer. I matched all three perfectly. I fired off my CV almost certain that I was going to get an audition for this. I mean, I had to get one. I WAS PERFECT FOR NEARLY HALF THE ROLES THEY WERE CASTING FOR. I was so perfect for it that I was tempted to just put that in the cover letter and nothing else but, surely, when they saw my application they'd realise that? Of course not.

I'd made a note of when the casting was, already getting excited about what would be my first audition in bloody ages, and waited for the inevitable phone call. Nothing. The casting was on a Monday so I was sure I'd hear from the by Friday but, Friday evening came and still nothing. I convinced myself that they'd be organising castings over the weekend instead but every glance at my phone and inbox refresh was met with my increasingly disappointed face. Monday then arrived and, sadly, no last minute booking arrived. I'll admit, I was sad but I consoled myself with the fact that they'd, somehow, had plenty of other applicants who were equally suited to the role.

So, cradling my slightly dented ego, I tried to forget about it. And I was doing alright until I saw another advert from them still trying to get enough actors to audition for some of the roles. THE ROLES THAT I WAS PERFECT FOR. I watched my pride jump out on the floor and have a full-on tantrum. I could, if I hated my pride, re-apply. I'd done it before and that's why I couldn't do it again. The feeling of submitting yourself for a second round of rejection is too much. This job is exceptionally good at chipping away at your ego without additional help from me and a grovelling cover letter. So I've left it, my pride scowling and muttering in the corner while I desperately wait for a happy ending to this story.

I'm still waiting. But still, at least the precious 2% are getting work.