Lesson The Pain

I realised this morning that, give or take a couple of weeks, I graduated from drama school exactly 9 years ago. Bloody hell. Gnarls Barkley was at number one with Crazy. We’d only seen 2 series of The Apprentice. The best mix up on TV had just happened when Guy Coma ended up accidently on BBC News. And, like it knew there were a whole new bunch of actors in need of procrastination, Twitter arrived…

But, after a few hours of dicking about on Twitter, it got me to thinking about the lessons I’ve learnt in those 9 years. There are fair few supposedly wise words that I’ve kicked to the curb; chiefly that a pair of character shoes and a character skirt are a wise investment. I can only assume drama schools suggest buying these so you can own something that gathers more dust than your acting career.

However, a fair few have stuck and, because I’ve got a spare hour and blogging time is scarce these days, I thought I’d share them with you.

Lesson 1: KKK

Now, when we were told at drama school that we should consider the KKK when looking at potential jobs, I was shocked to say the least. I know the industry is rather in favour of white actors but, really? They went on to explain that when you’re faced with a job offer (it took a while longer to learn what one of those was, sadly) you should consider the 3 Ks:

Kicks

Kudos

Kash (hey, we weren’t at drama school for our excellent spelling anyway…)

I must say, I dismissed this at first. When you graduate and you stare into the awful void that you thought would be your glittering career, you, sometimes foolishly, take on whatever job you can get your hands on. But it’s wonderful for those jobs you’re just not sure about. So, when in doubt, see if you can get at least 2 of the 3 Ks covered. And it kinda works. Of course, you can never be entirely sure and we’ve all had those jobs that we thought would be fun but ended up being an utter nightmare (hello eating dried apricots on a riverbank at 2am…) but it’s a handy little technique for those of us who are a little less decisive than we’d like to be.

Lesson 2: We all have our own career path

This was a tough one to learn. You spend your 3^rd year determinedly planning your career. You’ll do a spot of TiE first because, y’know, that’s totally the done thing. Then you’ll do a bit of fringe theatre, a few short independent films…and oh, that’s what I did do. However, that’s when it all starts to fall apart. I thought I’d then do some TV, maybe a major advert and then, obviously, Hollywood would be ready for me and I’d be sorted.

Hahahahahahahahaha.

Now, that totally happened for some people in my year. Others got the massive film job instantly and haven’t stopped working since. Others got a TV job immediately and then never worked again. Others gave up the second they graduated and I now get to log into Facebook and look at the houses they own and the holidays they go on. But the majority of us just toddle along our own little road. Sometimes we’re striding along looking fabulous, sometimes we’re stumbling around drunkenly and other times we’re sleeping at the side of the road while surrounded by biscuit crumbs and cups of tea. At some points our paths will cross and at other times it’ll take us out somewhere horribly remote. But I now find having my own path rather comforting. Yeah, maybe I don’t look after mine as well as I should. I’m sure others get more money for the upkeep and others are more resourceful but I like mine just the way it is, potholes and all. Which takes me on to my next lesson…

Lesson 3: Don’t compare yourself to others

This has been the toughest one of all to learn. It seems straightforward but, believe me, it’s bloody hard to not compare yourself to others when you’re sat on the sofa, you’re wearing your oldest pyjamas, you’re picking crisp crumbs out of your hair and you look up to see one of your drama school mates looking a bazillion dollars on TV.

If we didn’t compare ourselves to others then we wouldn’t be human. I don’t care how sorted you say you are, if you say you don’t sometimes look at someone else’s career and then look at your barren CV on your barely functioning laptop and wonder where the hell you went wrong, then you’re a liar.

The point is that, when you see someone else doing fabulously, you don’t beat yourself up over it. Yeah they’re on TV playing a part that you’d kill for but have they ever got to pretend to be an electric toothbrush in a church hall in Derby? Sure they’ve been listed in that ‘Ones To Watch’ article but have they discovered that Papa John’s Special Garlic sauce makes the filthiest, most glorious topping for macaroni cheese? See? You’re doing just fine. You might want to get your cholesterol checked out but, seriously, YOU’RE FINE.

So there we go. 9 years and 3 lessons later and here I am. Sat indoors on a sunny Saturday afternoon wondering where the next acting job is coming from. But I have biscuits in the kitchen, tea on the go, Netflix on the telly and a pair of pyjamas that will last longer than any of the acting careers of my peers so, y’know, my path ain’t looking too bad right now…

I Got 5 On It

When it comes to auditions, I’m the Queen of Screwing Up. I’ve fluffed more lines than a hungover actor on opening night. I’ve managed to nearly take out a casting director by over-zealously sitting on an office chair. I’ve managed to misinterpret instructions to the point that I’ve ended up putting everything in the room into a massive pile. I’ve turned up to a 3 hour movement workshop in the tightest jeans known to man. I’ve had an eye infection for a casting for an advert where only my eyes would be visible.  But this week’s faux pas might just be the worst…

It was a recall for an advert. I’ll be honest, I’d bloody love it. I remember when we were at drama school, it was the done thing to say that you’d never do a commercial. Everyone considered themselves above such things. Yep, we’re all above earning a few thousand quid for a day’s work. How I long to go back to a time when we all thought we were superior to bill payers.

So, yes. I kinda wanted this. I’ve booked a holiday and it’d be really nice to be able to afford to sleep in something other than a tent made out of my silly idea that I can actually afford to leave the country.

I’m currently on a pencil. For those of you who have jobs that don’t involve moping around hoping someone will cast you to play a tree, a pencil is the pain in every actor’s life. Sometimes, if you’re really lucky, you’ll be a heavy pencil. A heavy pencil is really only something interesting to actors, stationery shop owners and staff at The Pencil Museum. I was told to pencil a total of 6 different dates, one of which was in the past. I really hope that’s the first test for when they’re casting the new Doctor Who… But anyway, I jumped through a number of hoops until I found myself in the ridiculous position of being pencilled for a recall that might not be happening. It’s this kind of precarious shit they should be teaching in drama schools, not how to be a bloody llama.

Finally, my recall was confirmed. Hooray.

It was going to be in arse-end of London. Boo.

I turned up to the venue and it was at one of the numerous audition venues in London which is a myriad of identical rooms that are attached to identical corridors. I was vaguely pointed in the right direction and was then left to my own devices. I’d been given the name of the room and had been directed to a corridor with three rooms, none of which were labelled. Which one to go with…

Room one contained 8 dancing men.

Room two contained about 20 ballerinas.

Room three contained 2 men breakdancing while wearing roller skates.

Oh, right. I’m not at a recall at all. I’m at my own worst nightmare where I must face up to my total inadequacies as a performer. Good-o.

I fannyed around, wondering where on earth I was meant to be. A head then poked from out of the Starlight Express meets Flashdance room.

“Are you here for the recall?”

Oh god. Why has a room where there is roller skating happening got anything to do with me?

“Don’t worry we’re sharing the room.”

With relief, I start waffling on. I make some bad jokes. I keep talking. I then find out that I’ve managed to bleat on over the skaters’ recording.

I’M A PROFESSIONAL! HIRE ME!

Once they’ve done whizzing around and making me feel like heffalump, it’s my turn, thankfully sans skates. I do my bit to camera. All good. Feeling optimistic.

I have a chat to the casting director, who’s lovely, she puts her hand up and, in my relief at not having to skate, on finding out that the casting director is nice, in getting through an audition without nearly killing someone, I high-five her.

I then hand over the script and go on my merry way.

I feel confident. Heck, I might just get this job.

I’m stood on the train platform feeling pretty bloody good about myse-

OH NO.

She didn’t want a high-five. She put out her hand to take the script back off me.

OH GOD.

I’m now that person. So bloody cocky that I high-five casting directors after an audition. I might as well have waited for the other actors to arrive, cocked my leg and marked my territory around the whole production.

So that’s another casting down the drain. Surely that’s worth a high-five?

Been In Anything I Might've Seen?

“Oh, you’re an actor? Been in anything I might’ve seen?”

You know your career is in dire need of help when it reflects poorly on the person asking if they have. Like many actors, it would be highly unlikely that you’d have clapped eyes on my brief offerings to the actor gods (Dench & Hurt.) In fact, unless you're one of the following people...

• A lover of Theatre in Eduction

• The person behind the fact that all three adverts I’ve appeared in have never made it to air

• Have a knack for stumbling upon poorly advertised plays

• My mum

…then I’ll never have been in anything you might’ve seen.

Never ask this question. Firstly, it makes the actor question their own dubious career and what if we have been in something you might’ve seen? Was our performance so unmemorable that you need to ask us? Are you really going to put us in the position where we have to meekly remind you that we were once in Channel 5’s Family Affairs? Really? Is that how you get your kicks?

AND WHY ARE YOU PRESUMING THAT ALL ACTORS KNOW WHAT YOU WATCH? DO YOU THINK WE HAVE NOTHING BETTER TO DO WITH OUR DAYS THAN PEER THROUGH YOUR CURTAINS AND KEEP TABS ON YOUR VIEWING HABITS?

Sorry. 

And you should really stop watching Come Dine With Me and, please, clean your net curtains.

Basically, all you’re asking with that question is “Have you ever been on telly?” And I dread that question. Because I haven’t. In 8 years as an actor, I’ve had one TV casting (Hollyoaks. I didn’t get it but I did get to see the Grange Hill building so, y’know, those 3 years at drama school definitely paid off.) I can’t tell people things that might impress them when they ask me about my career. Of course, we don’t do this job to impress others (well, we do) but it’s hard to feel upbeat about your job when you watch someone’s interest physically get up and leave as you tell them about the time you played a stag in front of 8 people. And of course, a TV career doesn’t mean that you’ve made it, but in party-chat currency, it’s pretty damn useful.

Brilliant things are being done to ensure that more actors get at least a slight chance to be seen outside the trusty comfort of friends and family. The Act for Change Project that's asking for greater diversity on our screens and the calls for the BBC to stop going to the same agents time and time again to cast their shows are working hard to open up the TV industry to those who aren’t white or privately educated.

But there’s still a huge gap which was proved today by two stories currently in the news: one listing the top 10 earning actors (Robert Downey Jr made about £44m last year) and the other about Sir Ian McKellen calling for actors to earn a living wage (£8.80 an hour which would allow actors to earn £18k should they be lucky enough to work full time.) Most actors currently find themselves earning way below a living or even a minimum wage and are more reliant on their temp agency than their acting one. 

The main argument is that there are just too many actors but it would be easier to tell how many we need to get rid of ask politely to try a new career if the acting work and wealth were spread out even just a little bit. If the actors we see in EVERYTHING (I'm not naming names but I'm looking at you, Cumberbatch) donated just one job a year to previously unknown actors then imagine that. A few more actors might be saved for that special wince that's reserved for CVs and bank accounts and they would no longer dread being spoken to at parties. 

So, next time you meet an actor and go to ask that question, think about what you’re really asking them and just offer to buy them a drink instead.

Miss L's 2013 Newsletter

Right, first an apology to the three people that read my blog. Sorry for not having written anything in so long. The last time I wrote, open letters were just things that nosey neighbours did, clocks were still very much forward and we were blissfully unaware of what a Penis Beaker was. We really had no idea how lucky we were.

So, because it’s been so long and I’ve therefore collated a few subjects that I can’t be bothered to write a full blog about, I thought I’d do you all a little newsletter instead. Excited? You bloody should be.

Why haven’t you been thrusting your thoughts on to us for ages?

Well, as I’ve touched upon how long it’s been since I last wrote one, I thought I might as well explain why I haven’t bothered you with my mind ramblings. The fact is that, acting wise, 2013 has been about as kind to me as a goblin who has a thing for stealing crisps. For whatever reason, the world has not wanted a piece of me this year and this means, rather worryingly, I can count the amount of auditions I’ve had this year on 2 fingers. And when you’re so out of the loop that you’re pretty sure the loop is just a myth, writing about what’s inside the loop can be a tad tricky.

Being an actor that can’t even get auditions can be seriously embarrassing. It’s easy to blame the acting world – Hallowe’en, clocks going back, fireworks and a glut of pumpkins are all very valid reasons at the moment…but spouting those excuses continuously gets seriously tiresome. But it’s true that, for me at least, the industry has been tough this year. Just this morning, when checking a casting site for work to apply for, I found just 1 paid job a staggering 25 unpaid jobs. And that’s what it’s like every day. At the moment, I’m lucky if I can find 1 paid job a month to apply for. So it’s hardly surprising that I’m close to becoming a world record holder in the art of resting. I will admit that it’s getting me down somewhat so I’ve decided that 2013 is being written off and 2014 will be embraced with turkey and stuffing heavy arms in a couple of months.

No More Drama

All-round misery bringer Michael Gove has announced that ‘soft subjects’ such as drama could well be scrapped at GCSE level. As a, supposed, actor this is terrible news. To see schools lose these subjects would be utterly heartbreaking. Whether or not you go into a career in the arts, these subjects are so important in schools. As someone who was actually pretty shy at school, drama pretty much saved me. A quadratic equation can’t help you get up and feel confident speaking in front of other people. The Periodic Table can’t help you listen to others. And the Spanish for ‘There’s a rat in the corner of the room’ can’t help you do an interpretive dance to Orinoco Flow (true story from my drama GCSE days…)

I know to some people drama classes at school are seen as doss subjects where you get to muck about for a few hours but they are so much more than that. They teach you confidence and understanding and that there’s more than one way to express yourself. Not everyone’s parents can afford to send them to extra-curricular drama classes and not every town has these facilities. For some kids, drama classes at school are the only chance they get to do something a bit different. And the thought of ‘that bit different’ being lost from our schools’ curriculums is very sad indeed.

So, if any of the arts subjects meant anything to you while you were at school – whether they helped you speak that bit louder, taught you the oh-so important skill of being to improvise on the spot or were just a relief in days otherwise filled with writing equations down, then please sign this petition to help save them:

https://www.change.org/en-GB/petitions/michael-gove-stop-the-marginalisation-of-the-expressive-arts-in-education-policy

50 Years Young

The glorious National Theatre turned 50 this year and because the BBC is still something that should be hugged and protected, they aired the celebration on Saturday. For over 2 hours, scenes from the best bits of the last 50 years were recreated. It was glorious. A true celebration of one wonderful institution being aired on another one.

But there was a problem. There was a quite serious lack of women. It became obvious very quickly that female playwrights were woefully represented. In fact, in the end only one female writer was used (Alecky Blythe who wrote the absolutely stunning London Road) whereas three David Hare plays were used. Now I realise that there have been more male playwrights over the last 50 years so, of course, more will be represented but it was sad to see such an imbalance.

However, what I hadn’t realised was the difference between the male and female roles being portrayed that night. Because of such incredible performances by Dames Judi, Maggie and Joan, it felt like there were thousands of women on stage. However, the numbers tell a very different story. If you take the credited roles from the cast list then there were 112 males roles being played and just 47 female roles. A rather sad statistic.

I don’t want to be down about the National’s celebrations because it’s a wonderful thing and it’s a theatre that should be constantly applauded. It creates magical, affordable theatre and has produced so many fond memories for so many people. It’s the reason why so many people have chosen a career in the arts and is a constant source of inspiration. All I say is that I hope their 100^th birthday is one where all those in the arts are celebrated equally.

Bloody hell, crack a smile, eh?

And now, because this has been a bloody miserable blog, here’s some highlights from my Casting Call Woe Tumblr…

The film is based around a woman having a bath, while a very small crocodile wanders around the bathroom.

You will be playing the role of a rubber duck.

Jesus vs Dracula.

Leaf Blower Massacre 2.

Carb conscious gay party boy who gets assaulted by Mr Whippy.

Over and out, lovelies.

A Real Acting CV

HERE IS MY NAME. IT'S BIG. I SPENT AN ALARMING AMOUNT OF TIME DECIDING WHICH FONT TO USE.

Here is a photo of me

from 2 years ago after spending a 

week barely eating. I also spent over 3 hours

making myself look like this. 

Beautiful, aren't I? I'll never

look like this ever again. 

These are my contact details because I naively think that

you might bother to get in touch with me.

Boring stats:

Height: Do you really care?

Eyes: Green with envy at all the other actors you've hired in the past.

Hair colour: Look at my photo you lazy fool.

Playing age: This depends on what I'm applying for but let's presume 1-100.

Weight: At least 2 stone less than what it really is.

Training: No, I didn't go to RADA. Hey, don't go!

Parts Played:

This first role is the biggest one I've ever played. Despite the fact it was over 5 years ago, I'm still putting it first so that you definitely notice it.

Second is the best thing I was in but I didn't have a named part. I've made up a name so I look more important. 

Here are some things I did when I first left drama school or, as they're otherwise known, 'CV Filler Roles.'

The next few roles are one that I've made up or wish that I'd been in.

These jobs at the bottom are ones I'm pretending I didn't do in drama school.

Special Skills:

I could tell you about all the accents that I'm a master at in my head and how good a singer I am although my voice is regularly likened to a cat on speed. However, if I'm being honest, these are the only things that I'm really skilled at:

• Being able to avoid drama school classmates while in Soho.

• Thinking up wonderful excuses for not bothering to print off my CV for an audition.

• Reusing monologues time and time again because I can't be bothered to learn new ones .

• Hiding the fact I've a full driving license until I'm sure you won't be using me as an unpaid chauffeur for your profit-share schools' tour of 'The Drugs Don't Work.' 

• Listing a language on my CV that I'm 'currently learning.' The fact that the last time I studied it was back in 1999 while doing my GCSEs is utterly irrelevant.  

 Upcoming Work:

I've left this free because casting calls always state that actors need to be available for work. By leaving this blank I should be the most employable actor out there. Please hire me. Thanks.