Spinning Plates

During my day job a while ago, I was asked if this is what I did for a living. I was explaining that no, not technically, although it did take up most of my time.

'Oh, what else do you do?' 

I explained that, really, I was an actor. 

'Oh, so what acting work are you doing at the moment?' 

'Well, nothing at the moment.' 

I starting explaining that I'd recently done a couple of things, a couple of corporates, some role play, a voiceover job. 

'Have you got any acting work coming up.'

'Not right now but you never know.'

I suddenly realised that, to this stranger, I might as well have said that I was an astronaut. No, NASA don't know anything about me but I saw some stars recently and I'm pretty sure that I spotted the ISS flying past although it could have been a plane. 

I think there are two very distinct stages of being an actor, There are the times when you can very proudly declare, 'I am an ACTOR,' as someone luckily asks what you do for a living when you're in a whirl of auditions and acting work and emails asking for your availability. Then there are the times when you mumble, 'Well, technically I'm an actor,' as someone unfortunately asks what you do for a living when you're in a whirl of day jobs and commuting and emails asking if you fancy coming back to your old call centre job. 

When you're in your proud stage, it's glorious. THIS is what you expected at drama school, this flurry of spinning plates, you're doing it so expertly and you realise that this is what you're born to do. Then suddenly you remember that you have to eat off one of those spinning plates, then you see that one has a crack in it that needs mending and, oh, here comes someone else spinning the same plates as you but, hang on, where did they learn that Triple Platter Spin into Double Saucer Dive? It's then that you realise you're all spinning those same bloody plates from Ikea and you realise that you've been trying to keep them spinning for so long that you're not 100% sure what happens if you just stop.

Stopping is terrifying. Everyone thinks you're a plate spinner. You've dedicated your life to being a plate spinner. Your parents gave you money to go to plate spinning school. Everyone you went to school with knows you're a plate spinner. All the other plate spinners compare their plate spinning to yours and you know that if you stop spinning, everyone will assume that you're not very good at plate spinning anymore. 

The thing is, there are many reasons to stop spinning plates. It might be that want to try a new technique, or maybe you fancy a break so you can save up for some better plates or maybe, just maybe, your arms are just fucking tired. 

I made a decision a few years ago to not beat myself up over a lack of work. I worry sometimes that this attitude makes me a terrible actor, that I'm not committed enough to the cause. Social media can make you feel that if you're not living and breathing your acting career as well as making mnemonics to remember every casting director for every show in London right now then you're doing it wrong. The truth is, since I made this little pledge to myself, I've never been happier about my career. Sure, I'm not going up for the biggest acting roles but I also don't make myself feel like a worthless piece of crap every day either. 

I think I've realised that I like doing a little bit of everything. 

*rewind back to the spinning plates*

I'm a big fan of the picky tea. Or the bits plate. Or bits and pieces. Whatever you called it in your house, it's that tea that you'd have on a Sunday evening. A bit of cheese. Some crisps. Maybe a little sausage roll or pork pie. Some carrot batons. You might add some cherry tomatoes if you're not me. A gloriously crispy and tangy pickled onion. Nowadays it will also include some olives or artichoke hearts, some hummus and those bloody quinoa crisps that are too addictive for their own good. It's a beautiful fridge buffet that although looks like a mish-mash of leftovers, is actually a stunningly thought-out thing of all the things you enjoy. It's comforting and lovely and satisfying and, best of all, 

That's the plate that I want to keep spinning. Some acting work. Some writing work. My day job. Trawling casting call sites. Role play. Dedicated time to watch Drag Race. Thinking up excuses so I can blame a lack of acting work on National Sandwich Week or International Leaf Day. It's taken me eleven years to realise that this is how I like to do things. It might not make the most successful actor and it might not always give me the most exciting answers when someone asks if I've got any acting work coming up but, for me, there's less stress, I enjoy it and sometimes, just sometimes, there might be a pickled onion. 

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I've recently set up a Ko-fi page where the idea is that, if you like what someone does, you treat them to a virtual cup of coffee by donating them the money of what a coffee would be in a reasonably pricey cafe. I'm not a fan of coffee, I'm more of a tea person myself, and, to be honest, just people reading, sharing and commenting on what I do is payment enough but sometimes going through these casting calls requires much tea-based comfort so, you know, it's there if you fancy it... ko-fi.com/castingcallwoe 

Have you thought about...?

As actors, we're all used to hearing a few very familiar phrases. So, with a little help from Orange Is The New Black, here's a handful of them... (Warning: this may contain spoilers. Seriously though, you should've watched it all by now.)


"So when are we going to see you in EastEnders?"

"I can't pay you, but..."

"Been in anything I might've seen?"

"Have you tried writing to Downton Abbey?"

"I have a friend who's an actor."

"Why don't you get yourself a better agent?"

"Is your agent like the one in Friends/Extras?"

"So what sort of acting do you do?"

"Have you thought about doing acting as a hobby instead?"

"So when are you going to get yourself a proper job?"

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…

Don't Believe The Skype

Technology is great. It means I can check the weather on my phone without having to even open the curtains, I can watch telly and not really take in what’s happening because I’m too busy tweeting about it on my laptop and I can judge the lifestyle choices of ex-schoolmates via Facebook while I sit around in my pyjamas on a Wednesday afternoon, wondering if I’ve already seen this episode of Escape To The Country.

Technology is bloody everywhere and, because actors are bloody everywhere too, it was only a matter of time before the two worlds collided. It’s hard to tell whether this has been a good thing or not. On one hand, I can now apply for acting roles that I’m never going to get at the click of a button but, on the other hand, I can’t check my phone without seeing I’ve been invited to like yet another actor’s Facebook fan page. NO I DO NOT NEED TO KNOW ABOUT THE THREE AMAAAAAZZZZZIIIIIING AUDITIONS YOU’VE HAD TODAY #SOBLESSED #ACTORSLIFE

But the biggest impact the world of technology has had on casting (apart from, OBVIOUSLY, film, TV and the fact that we can now obviously be both seen and heard on screen too now like a particularly irritating Victorian child) is the introduction of Skype auditions. Now, don’t get me wrong, there’s something very lovely about not having to leave the house to get work. Anything where this is an even slight possibility of wearing slippers while auditioning is top banana. But, ultimately, Skype auditions are a proper pain.

Imagine, if you will, that you were called up one morning and they told you that instead of coming into the office for your interview, the panel had decided to come to your house instead. One, on a reasonably slow day, that would probably make the national news and, two, your house will never look as grubby as when you realise someone who doesn’t live there is going to be seeing it for the first time.

Just like you’re never more than 6 feet away from a rat or 2 feet away from an out of work actor, you’re never more than a camera pan away from a laden clothes horse, much-neglected plant or patch of damp wall in our flat. So, time that should be spent preparing is instead spent finding the one camera angle that is well-lit, doesn’t include your pants drying in the background and stops the director being distracted by the mold visibly creeping along the wall behind you.

And then there’s making yourself the living embodiment of ‘all dressed up with nowhere to go.’ There’s something rather heart-breaking about spending the best part of an hour doing your hair and make-up and picking the perfect outfit to just make the 3 second trip for your bedroom to the living room. 

Then, of course, there’s praying to the Internet Gods that your flaky broadband holds out, roping in the elderly lady from across the road to read in the other part and hoping the daily Jehovah’s Witnesses don’t come by in the next 7 minutes.

But all this is nothing compared to what you actually have to do...

That is a genuine list of requirements that I’ve seen for a Skype interview. Now, I know actors can be worse than piles when it comes to being pains in the arse but an actor has had to have done something seriously awful to you to make them go through that. And actors will have put themselves through it. Actors will have shamelessly paraded around their living room, finally putting their copy of The Complete Works of Shakespeare to good use by precariously balancing it on their heads while they wonder if they're now meant to show their best moves while it's still teetering up there.

Now, thankfully, I didn’t do this particular audition but I did put myself through something vaguely similar. I received an email last year asking if I’d do a self-tape to apply for a role in a music video. They wanted it done by the end of the day. Fine. I wasn’t doing much else that day and, thankfully, my boyfriend was on hand to film it for me. I opened up the instructions. They wanted me to be dressed in smart business attire, put money into a vending machine and pull out a branch. This was already too much effort for someone who had been holding a wee in for the last 30 minutes because they couldn't be bothered to get up. I read on. They then wanted me to move to a photocopier, switch it on and be amazed at all the weird photos coming out of it. And they wanted all of that in one 30 second video. If it went over, they said that they'd refuse to watch it. Oh for crying out loud…

I refused to actually find somewhere with a vending machine and photocopier to film the damn thing and was determined to do it all at home. The next two hours were then spent with me putting together an outfit that looked vaguely like what I’ve seen people on TV wear in offices and rearranging our study to basically hide everything in it. The photocopier was to be played by our knackered old printer. The vending machine - a wardrobe full of sheets and pillows. This was about as convincing as an actor saying they know the different between stage left and stage right without having to think about it first.

I already knew this wasn’t going to work.

First take – 30 seconds has gone by and I’ve only just established that I’m a bored office worker trying to get a drink out of my wardrobe vending machine.

Second take – I realise the ridiculousness of pretending to put a coin in a wardrobe.

Third take – I manage to get to the point where I quizzically look at the branch (played admirably by Thin Air) and then 30 seconds is up.

Fourth take – frustrated by this point, I race through it at such an angry speed that I’ve done the whole thing in 18 seconds.

Fifth take – like my last day of woodwork class in Year 9, I'm as close to nailing it as I'll ever be. The whole scene comes in at 31 seconds. I’ve already decided the email I'll be sending to Watchdog if they dare complain.

Then it’s back into pyjamas (I leave the make up on because I never do it this nicely and damn me if I’m wasting the time and effort spent on not looking like a clown) to then faff around with WeTransfer for the rest of my life. 4 hours. 4 bloody hours the whole debacle took.

I didn't get it.

The Toughest Things About Being An Actor

Being an actor is tough. Career instability, financial insecurity and constant scrutiny about how you look. Makes you wonder why anyone would do it for a living. But those aren't the truly difficult things. Oh no. Here are just a few of the things that are far worse...

Spotting THAT person you went to drama school with in a ‘Check Out These Amazing Next Big Things Who Are The Stars Of The Future And Are So Much Better Than You And We’re Featuring Them Even Though They’ve Got Plenty Of Work And There Are So Many Other Hardworking People Would Could Benefit From This Kind Of Coverage’ type article.

Look at them, all lovely with their hair done all nice while you’re sat in a pair of pyjamas that you haven’t removed for the last 3 days. Hang on, did that stain just MOVE?

Your favourite pyjamas being in the wash.

You know the ones – comfy enough to fall asleep in at 2pm on a Wednesday afternoon, warm enough so you can avoid putting the heating on even though the mould on the walls has formed frost and respectable enough to answer the door in without the postman looking too horrified.

Pacing a free bar entirely wrong.

You’ve been invited to a thing. You don’t want to go because, well, your favourite pyjamas are clean and you’ve got the flat to yourself and RuPaul’s Drag Race is calling…

“There’s a free bar.”

You turn up horrifically early, hoping to get in on the free bar action. Now, generally the rest of the night will go one of only two ways:

Every photo of the night features you clutching three glasses of wine with your boozy gaze only able to focus on any available snacks

Or

You decide to be sensible and not make a fool of yourself. Maybe you’ll brace yourself and do some much-needed networking. You average a glass of wine every 45 minutes only to discover the free bar was only for the first hour. You slink off home at 8pm and pick up a sausage roll and a bottle of Lambrini on the way home.

Social networking

‘OMG. Just been offered the most AMAZEBALLS job. All top-secret right now though! ARGH! #soblessed’

‘Need me my own PA! Soooooo busy today! 3 castings, 1 voiceover, 1 meeting with top director AND a costume fitting!!!! #WhatAmILike?!?!?!?!’

‘Oh NOOOOOOOO. Been offered a totes AMAZING film role but it clashes with the most DIVINE theatre role. SOMEONE TELL ME WHAT I SHOULD DO! #hatemylife’

We all have these. You’re flicking through trying to see which of your old school mates now has the worst hair (hey now, mullets with a copper sheen are very popular in more rural areas) and one of those status updates pops up. You know you should be pleased for them but all you do is scream at the screen and become even more determined to live-tweet Homes Under The Hammer.

Questions about your career.

• Oh of course, I totally know when you’re going to see me in EastEnders. Let me just let the Casting Department know that I’m booking myself in for the 2015 Christmas storyline…
• I do all types of acting. No, not porn.
• Yes, I have been in something you might have seen. Your mum.

These are your stock answers to the stock questions that you will always get. They will usually come from well-meaning folk who, to be fair, have no idea what to say to someone who has willingly chosen to pretend to be a tree for a living.

Seeing friends in plays

Personally I think ‘seeing a friend’s play’ should be the new term for anything that should be discussed behind closed doors and after a thorough check for bugging devices has been carried out.

There is a lot of pressure as an actor when you go to see a friend in something. Firstly, WHY THE HELL DIDN’T YOU GET SEEN FOR THIS? Oh, I mean, I’m really pleased that my friend is getting this wonderful opportunity. But you will be overly critical. You’ll spend most of your time trying to work out which is the annoying one in the cast (there’s always at least one) and the rest of the time either being insanely jealous (if you liked it) or wishing you’d sat nearer the exit (if you didn’t.)

And then there’s the time in the foyer/bar/street after, especially if you didn’t enjoy it. What do you say? Do you lie? OF COURSE YOU DO…

“OH MY GOD! Well done you! You must be exhausted! How long did it take you to learn all those lines?!”

And, of course, you then realise that you’ve heard those lines before. HANG ON A MINUTE – people said that to YOU the last time YOU were in something. The Circle of Acting Life, friends.

(DISCLAIMER – if you’re a friend and are reading this, I totally loved YOUR play. It must’ve been so hard being on stage that long.)

Shakespeare questions at pub quizzes

• Complete the title: Romeo & ________
• What is Shakespeare’s first name?
• Name any character in Antony & Cleopatra.

Shakespeare is tough and of course you’re going to pretend that you’ve read every single one of his plays and understood it and loved it (“My, Shakespeare! It must’ve taken you so long to write that!) So it’s no surprise that when the inevitable question comes up at the pub quiz, all eyes turn to you. When in doubt, either pretend to have not heard the question, quote the Oxfordian theory that Shakespeare didn’t write the plays anyway so the question is invalid or just answer ‘Leonardo DiCaprio’ and hope for the best.

Playing Charades

Actually, mime and the type of acting you do are two very different things so no, it’s not your fault that it took your nan three hours to work out that you were doing ‘I Still Know What You Did Last Summer.’ Those 3 years at drama school were definitely worth it and the fact you now can’t feel your hands does not bring your acting talent into question.

Not being able to use any other photo apart from your headshot as your profile picture

Guys, this is TOUGH. It’s alright for everyone else, they all have fun photos of them wearing a silly hat at the work Christmas party that they can use. Sure, you’ve got photos like that too but how can you possibly use that when there’s a photo of your airbrushed within an inch of your life? IF YOU DON’T USE THAT THEN HOW ELSE WILL PEOPLE REALISE THAT YOU’RE AN ACTOR AND IT’S THEREFORE OK THAT YOU HAVE FACEBOOK CHAT OPEN ALL DAY?

Daytime TV.

Learning the day’s viewing schedule is very demanding and has meant that you’ve forgotten many important things like why you wanted to be an actor in the first place and the last time you washed your hair. But how else are you meant to know when to have your fifth cup of tea (it’s when you fly for the remote to switch off Loose Women.)

But still, at least we get to do our food shopping on a weekday, eh?

Cruel Intentions

Good intentions. That’s what this week has been filled with.

I’ve got a set of new headshots under my arm and a new-found need to stop my CV looking as sparse as an actor’s knowledge on tax returns.

So this week I was ready to go. I was going to go through my CV with a nit comb (where I found I was still claiming to be able to play the flute – I really can’t), contact agents, nudge casting directors and apply for so much acting work that, if I were to get them all, even Benedict Cumberbatch would start to feel a bit uncomfortable.

Although I’d love new representation and the attention of a brilliant casting director, it’s really acting work that I want. And need. My CV currently has more dubious spaces than a service station car park at 3am and my showreel has less footage than John Barrowman’s best bits.

So I hit the casting websites hard. And for those who follow my Tumblr, you’ll know how hard I hit them anyway. But this week I was in Casting Calls 2: Hit Harder. This week I was going to have an open mind, find some excellent roles to apply for and take control of my floundering career.

There’s a sacrifice scene but it’s done in a sexy choreographed way where her top’s ripped to expose her breasts.

Oh.

The lady is more of a slapper.

Oh no.

She’s chained up in what appears to be a coffin & a metallic device is lodged in her mouth. She’s lying on a pile of rotting skulls.

Oh bloody hell.

And that was when I could find roles where I actually fit into the casting bracket. Generally I was either too old, too young, too female, too foreign-looking, too short, too tall, too fat, too thin, too unable to sing or just too unwilling to get my tits out for free. Then, of course, you find a role that you might possibly be able to play but they’re only casting in Manchester or they’re not paying or self-doubt whacks you round then head and you convince yourself that they’d never hire you anyway so why even bother.

But people keep asking me what acting work I’ve got coming up and I’ve got nothing to tell them.

So you find a weak handful of jobs to put yourself up for and then you wait. It’s like waiting for Christmas having heard a rumour that it’s being cancelled this year. But still you put yourself through the same series of events every single time...

You apply convinced that you’re perfect for the job. You feel safe in the knowledge that they’ll see your application, fall in love with you and that job will be yours. Then you see they’ve looked at your CV a few times and you get excited. You check the closing date for the casting call and are sure that as soon as it hits, you’ll get that audition offer. That date arrives and you hear nothing. Oh, maybe they’re delayed or taking their time. You check when the shooting date is. It’s tomorrow. Well, maybe that’s changed. Time passes. You eventually see the show or advert and have to finally accept that maybe they’re not going to call you in for that casting. Hey, hang on. You didn’t even see the role that you applied for. Oh, you were better off not getting it anyway. Ad infinitum.

But still, my week wasn’t completely fruitless. Despite all the agents and casting directors I contacted, despite all the casting calls I spent ages on making sure I sent the perfect cover letter, despite all that, I got a phone call from a temping agency wanting me on their books and a call centre offered me a job, sooooo…there’s that.