Today's post comes to you from a gloomy Miss L who finds herself tired, achy and on the bus at 8.30 on a grey Sunday morning. Few people are up and about and this time and those who are all have the look that suggests there are a trillion better things they could be doing right now. I've spoken to two loved ones already this morning. One gets to go back to sleep before having breakfast and the other is walking my gorgeous dog on my favourite walk in the sun. If you look out your window right now, you might see a green envious glow emanating from the top of the 43 bus.
But enough of my whining about today. What moans do I have about yesterday? Well, let's start with the insane lack of food. We were told that there would be no official lunch break as they had too much to get done and we'd therefore need to eat when weren't needed. No problem. I'll just go get something from the kitch...what? Where's all the food? Oh, that's it. You haven't bought any. After much foraging, we found a solitary bag of crisps but after one crisp each, we were told to stop eating them as the noise was interfering with the sound equipment. To be fair, I'm pretty sure the sound coming from our stomachs was far worse but we'll let that go. Finally, 7 hours after we'd first arrived on set, lunch was collected. We huddled round the shopping bags to find most of the film's budget had been spent on sugar free cherryade and a handful of sad sandwiches. These were hoovered up in seconds. Bellies still grumbling, we wondered if that's all we'd be getting. A few hours later and a rumour starting kicking about that pizzas were being ordered! Hooray! That'd keep us going for days. Or at least it would if they'd bought enough so that we could have more than two slices each. I should add that Actor 1 from yesterday claimed to have every allergy under the sun so he got a pizza all of his own. While he devoured tasty looking, exclusive meal, we picked away at our meagre nibblings.
I don't want to sound like food is the most important thing on the shoot because it's not. It's the most important thing in the world. But seriously, if you're going to ask people to work for free then at least let them eat decently at regular intervals. It's bloody hard keeping concentration during a scene when most of your attention is going into stopping you from desperately knawing on the boom.
Complaint number two is about Actor 1. He'd already annoyed me by turning up obscenely late which he made even worse by charging in to apologise during one of my scenes. It was an important scene where I, Miss L, the High Priestess of Clumsy, has to throw heavy tools at people. It was nerve wracking enough worrying about how many lawsuits I'd face after maiming the whole crew without this irritating buffoon barging in midway. He then made matters worse by spending the whole day talking to my chest and making horribly inappropriate comments. I'm as open minded as an open window in Mensa but I draw the line at someone constantly needling me to find out what my favourite position is.
I'm aware I've made this sound like the worst shoot in the world. It's really not. It's damn fun and everyone else apart from Actor 1 is working so hard to make this work. Even the downtime which is normally brain crushingly dull has been made fun after discovering that the guy who owns the flat loves the exact same books that I do and we spent a good chunk of the evening excitedly recommending new reads to each other. Unsurprisingly we all share a love of film and we regularly have to be told to keep it down as we all rush to explain films we think the others would enjoy.
Today's the last day of shooting for a couple of weeks so although we've got the funnest stuff planned, stress levels are going to be high as we need to make sure everything is covered before we leave this location. Check back tomorrow for another moany blog where I complain about the lack of bottled water on set. This will be overshadowed though by my triumphant retaliation against Actor 1 where, in one swift move, I shove everything he's allergic to down his neck and nail his genitals to a particularly rattly door. Too much? Nah....
Sunday, 6 November 2011
Saturday, 5 November 2011
Shoot to Kill
Ah the first day of a shoot. The excitement of meeting the cast and crew. The thrill of checking out your location. The sheer joy of on-set catering. It's all a bit bloody lovely so I set off down to the wrong side of the river with a spring in my step, a glint in my eye and a growl in my belly.
The shoot got off to a lovely start by being picked up from the station despite the location only being two minutes away. The crew were all there and all seemed like normal, good people. The actors however very much let the side down. I don't want to sound like a preachy actor who thinks they're the only one who gets it right (I mean, that's exactly what I am but that kind of attitude doesn't win the hearts of a blog reading nation.) I was the only one who bothered to turn up on time with the other two actors rocking up an hour late. I know there are several thousand things that I do wrong but I find turning up late unforgivable. Unless it's totally out of your control (a lion decides they want to be a train driver) then there's no excuse.
Actor 1 turns up first. He barges in like he hadn't kept us waiting for 60 very long minutes and when I go to introduce myself, I'm completely ignored. Great. Way to make a first impression with your fellow actors. Twenty minutes later he comes up to me, shouts his name in my face, doesn't give me chance to introduce myself nor does he ask for my name. I'm pretty sure he still doesn't know it. Oh well, I get to play with a lot of weapons on this shoot. He better watch out for my dangerously clumsy hands and the frightening amount of weapons I have to handle during this shoot.
But anyway, my anger and I digress. We shot. We missed a lot but we also scored a few times and much japery was had. However, an over zealous director and an ever ticking clock meant that panic started to set in about how the hell I'd be getting home. The shoot was meant to end at 10 but at 11.30 we were still going strong. Thankfully my very unsubtle comments to the runner who was also relying on trains about when the last wagon would be leaving didn't go unnoticed and we finally wrapped for the day. A hair-raising car journey across London as we tried to chase final trains then ensued and I finally got home with a stomach only cradling a small bag of Discos at 1am. Add this to the fact that my alarm was then set for 7.30 the next morning and the world was faced with a miffed, exhausted but ultimately relieved at avoiding nightbuses Miss L.
Actor 1 was nearly 2 hours late this morning but much of my day has been spent throwing tools across the room. Actor 1? Meet this hammer and my careless throwing skills...
The shoot got off to a lovely start by being picked up from the station despite the location only being two minutes away. The crew were all there and all seemed like normal, good people. The actors however very much let the side down. I don't want to sound like a preachy actor who thinks they're the only one who gets it right (I mean, that's exactly what I am but that kind of attitude doesn't win the hearts of a blog reading nation.) I was the only one who bothered to turn up on time with the other two actors rocking up an hour late. I know there are several thousand things that I do wrong but I find turning up late unforgivable. Unless it's totally out of your control (a lion decides they want to be a train driver) then there's no excuse.
Actor 1 turns up first. He barges in like he hadn't kept us waiting for 60 very long minutes and when I go to introduce myself, I'm completely ignored. Great. Way to make a first impression with your fellow actors. Twenty minutes later he comes up to me, shouts his name in my face, doesn't give me chance to introduce myself nor does he ask for my name. I'm pretty sure he still doesn't know it. Oh well, I get to play with a lot of weapons on this shoot. He better watch out for my dangerously clumsy hands and the frightening amount of weapons I have to handle during this shoot.
But anyway, my anger and I digress. We shot. We missed a lot but we also scored a few times and much japery was had. However, an over zealous director and an ever ticking clock meant that panic started to set in about how the hell I'd be getting home. The shoot was meant to end at 10 but at 11.30 we were still going strong. Thankfully my very unsubtle comments to the runner who was also relying on trains about when the last wagon would be leaving didn't go unnoticed and we finally wrapped for the day. A hair-raising car journey across London as we tried to chase final trains then ensued and I finally got home with a stomach only cradling a small bag of Discos at 1am. Add this to the fact that my alarm was then set for 7.30 the next morning and the world was faced with a miffed, exhausted but ultimately relieved at avoiding nightbuses Miss L.
Actor 1 was nearly 2 hours late this morning but much of my day has been spent throwing tools across the room. Actor 1? Meet this hammer and my careless throwing skills...
Friday, 4 November 2011
Short But Sweet
Another day, another meeting with an agent. OK, so I've only had two meetings in two months but the phrase still stands. To be fair, the phrase 'another day, another trek down to south London' would be much more fitting. Until 5 weeks ago, I lived in south London and during that time no meetings or auditions were ever held there. However, the second I made the move to beautiful north London and now suddenly everyone wants me to make the arduous journey down to the other side of the river.
Yesterday was bloody miserable and the thought of getting on every form of transport that London has to offer made me come all over a little queasy. However, I kept in mind the lovely surprise I'd had the day before with the long trek being rewarded with the most wonderfullest of auditions and I set out. After all, this was a meeting with an agent. Even if they didn't like me and I didn't like them, it would be totally worth the jaunt. Even though it was just an initial meeting, I imagined I'd be in there for at least twenty minutes, chatting away about all the impossible things that I want to achieve and how little work I want to do to achieve these things. They'd go on for a good ten minutes about how great I am and how I'm just what they need to make their agency the best in the world. They'd get a bit excited about me and the rest of the company would all be brought in to gawp at me and I'd leave the meeting to the sound of rapturous applause and telephones ringing off the hook with a stream of job offers.
I imagine you'll be just as surprised as I was that this didn't happen. I was actually in the meeting for all of five minutes. And while it was a lovely five minutes, it was quite a shock that it was all over quite so quickly. I didn't even have time to run my BAFTA for Best Actress speech by them. I mean, the fact that I would chose to thank my parents, T and friends before them could be a proper deal breaker and would make things properly awkward in the afterparty. But instead we spent those five minutes idly chatting about things that are supposedly a lot more important such as my CV, headshot and what kind of work I want to be doing. Apparently these things matter a lot more. But anyway, after an enjoyable 300 seconds of chat, an audition was arranged for some time in the quite distant future so not all bad.
To be fair. I should be used to these bafflingly brief meetings. An audition I did for a patriotic gas company was quite possiblt the shortest on record. Somehow they were running amazingly late and I had a thirty minute wait to go in. I took very little notice at how quickly people were going in an out and waited patiently like the actress who is desperate for work that I am. Finally they called me in, I had the chance to say my name to camera, do profiles and hands. I then had to lift a box and put it back down again and that was it. What? I did three years at drama school. I spent weeks learning how to be a penguin. Months on how to be a cow. Years on how to be a human being. Didn't they want to see any of this? Sadly my face and box lifting skills weren't enough for them and I never heard from them again. Had they asked for my penguin then I'm sure things would've been different.
This afternoon sees yet another trek down to the southern regions of this glorious capital city as I start filming tonight. Check back tomorrow for at least one guaranteed calamitous tale of on-set buffoonery...
Yesterday was bloody miserable and the thought of getting on every form of transport that London has to offer made me come all over a little queasy. However, I kept in mind the lovely surprise I'd had the day before with the long trek being rewarded with the most wonderfullest of auditions and I set out. After all, this was a meeting with an agent. Even if they didn't like me and I didn't like them, it would be totally worth the jaunt. Even though it was just an initial meeting, I imagined I'd be in there for at least twenty minutes, chatting away about all the impossible things that I want to achieve and how little work I want to do to achieve these things. They'd go on for a good ten minutes about how great I am and how I'm just what they need to make their agency the best in the world. They'd get a bit excited about me and the rest of the company would all be brought in to gawp at me and I'd leave the meeting to the sound of rapturous applause and telephones ringing off the hook with a stream of job offers.
I imagine you'll be just as surprised as I was that this didn't happen. I was actually in the meeting for all of five minutes. And while it was a lovely five minutes, it was quite a shock that it was all over quite so quickly. I didn't even have time to run my BAFTA for Best Actress speech by them. I mean, the fact that I would chose to thank my parents, T and friends before them could be a proper deal breaker and would make things properly awkward in the afterparty. But instead we spent those five minutes idly chatting about things that are supposedly a lot more important such as my CV, headshot and what kind of work I want to be doing. Apparently these things matter a lot more. But anyway, after an enjoyable 300 seconds of chat, an audition was arranged for some time in the quite distant future so not all bad.
To be fair. I should be used to these bafflingly brief meetings. An audition I did for a patriotic gas company was quite possiblt the shortest on record. Somehow they were running amazingly late and I had a thirty minute wait to go in. I took very little notice at how quickly people were going in an out and waited patiently like the actress who is desperate for work that I am. Finally they called me in, I had the chance to say my name to camera, do profiles and hands. I then had to lift a box and put it back down again and that was it. What? I did three years at drama school. I spent weeks learning how to be a penguin. Months on how to be a cow. Years on how to be a human being. Didn't they want to see any of this? Sadly my face and box lifting skills weren't enough for them and I never heard from them again. Had they asked for my penguin then I'm sure things would've been different.
This afternoon sees yet another trek down to the southern regions of this glorious capital city as I start filming tonight. Check back tomorrow for at least one guaranteed calamitous tale of on-set buffoonery...
Thursday, 3 November 2011
Sod's Law
I like to try and at least loosely theme my blogs. This stops me going off and wittering on and telling you about pointless little moments in my life such as what I ate for dinner last night and that leaf I saw that looked like a very small dog. As interesting as I know you would all find these facts, I have to stop myself from bringing them up otherwise you'd all just be hassling me for the titbits from my day and we'd all lose the point of what this blog is really about...a whinging actress.
But today I've just got a few things that I want to pass on. Things that I'm sure I could tie together if I could be bothered and sit and come up with a theme but I can't. I've spent a good ten minutes wondering what music to get dressed to so coming up with a theme for today's offerings is far beyond me.
Firstly, to yesterday's second audition. My thoughts were that it would be a bit of a waste of time. Despite it being vaguely paid, it was a long way to go for an incredibly short script so I set off not feeling quite as optimistic as I should have done. But how wrong I was. It's for the funnest sounding project since The Tony Rich Project. (Yes, I realise 'Nobody Knows' ain't a fun song but as I explained earlier, I'm feeling lazy today...) It's for an art project and despite having to spend a lot of the audition pretending that I know a lot more about art than I do, it was a lovely hour well spent.
Next up is the Sod's Law section of today's blog. So I'm filming this weekend which is all great. It's a nice feeling when you're on a constant search for work to then be able to tell people that you're filming all weekend. Friends have asked if I'm around for a night out but I can't because I'm "filming all weekend." This has made me feel way more important that I should do and instead of feeling all smug about actually having an acting job, I should probably spend that time learning the lines for the damn thing. My current method seems to be that if I'm in the same room as the script for long enough then I'll learn them. So far this has had limited success although I know the front cover off by heart. Anyway, I digress. So, this morning, I get an offer to be the lead in a music video. Hooray. I hadn't even auditioned for it. But of course, and I reckon you've already guessed this, it's being filmed this weekend. I'm going from having no work at all to having to turn things down. Damn you Sod and the laws you came up with.
And for the final piece of news...I've been pencilled in for the ad I went up for yesterday. Now I've been pencilled in more times than a full sketch book so I know that most of the time, you get the initial excitement of being told to keep dates free and then you never hear anything again. A particular supermarket that thinks all the small things are particularly helpful has pencilled me in for just about every advert they've ever produced yet my grinning face is still yet to feature in any of them. I should be hearing tomorrow about whether they're still interested so I've got roughly 24 hours of glee until the misery returns.
Hmmm it seems that the theme, despite me thinking that there wasn't one, is 'self-indulgent.' I apologise for this breach in character. I promise that normal doom and gloom service will return tomorrow.
But today I've just got a few things that I want to pass on. Things that I'm sure I could tie together if I could be bothered and sit and come up with a theme but I can't. I've spent a good ten minutes wondering what music to get dressed to so coming up with a theme for today's offerings is far beyond me.
Firstly, to yesterday's second audition. My thoughts were that it would be a bit of a waste of time. Despite it being vaguely paid, it was a long way to go for an incredibly short script so I set off not feeling quite as optimistic as I should have done. But how wrong I was. It's for the funnest sounding project since The Tony Rich Project. (Yes, I realise 'Nobody Knows' ain't a fun song but as I explained earlier, I'm feeling lazy today...) It's for an art project and despite having to spend a lot of the audition pretending that I know a lot more about art than I do, it was a lovely hour well spent.
Next up is the Sod's Law section of today's blog. So I'm filming this weekend which is all great. It's a nice feeling when you're on a constant search for work to then be able to tell people that you're filming all weekend. Friends have asked if I'm around for a night out but I can't because I'm "filming all weekend." This has made me feel way more important that I should do and instead of feeling all smug about actually having an acting job, I should probably spend that time learning the lines for the damn thing. My current method seems to be that if I'm in the same room as the script for long enough then I'll learn them. So far this has had limited success although I know the front cover off by heart. Anyway, I digress. So, this morning, I get an offer to be the lead in a music video. Hooray. I hadn't even auditioned for it. But of course, and I reckon you've already guessed this, it's being filmed this weekend. I'm going from having no work at all to having to turn things down. Damn you Sod and the laws you came up with.
And for the final piece of news...I've been pencilled in for the ad I went up for yesterday. Now I've been pencilled in more times than a full sketch book so I know that most of the time, you get the initial excitement of being told to keep dates free and then you never hear anything again. A particular supermarket that thinks all the small things are particularly helpful has pencilled me in for just about every advert they've ever produced yet my grinning face is still yet to feature in any of them. I should be hearing tomorrow about whether they're still interested so I've got roughly 24 hours of glee until the misery returns.
Hmmm it seems that the theme, despite me thinking that there wasn't one, is 'self-indulgent.' I apologise for this breach in character. I promise that normal doom and gloom service will return tomorrow.
Wednesday, 2 November 2011
The Power of Three
Today has been one of those gloriously productive days. One of those days where you're pretty sure you could solve the debt crisis, restore peace to the world and bring dodos back from extinction if only someone would bloody ask. But because the world is still yet to see my potential, my productivity remains solely for my own life.
I started my day with a very fun casting indeed. I don't want to give too much away as that would break the Miss L code and they'll take away my 2008 copy of Contacts if I go against it. But I got to pretend I did a job that real people do that actually saves lives and it was a whole lot of fun. It took bloody ages because despite wanting to audition people individually, they called people in six at a time meaning that you had to be involved in the casting experience of five other desperate actors. I'm always amazed at how no one ever sabotages someone else's moment to shine. I mean, I'm pleased that no one does this because it would be bloody horrible but I have to admit that it occasionally crosses my mind. I'd never do it because I'm not good at these sort of things and I'd end up messing up my evil little plan and somehow manage to make the victim look even better. That's just how I do things. But I'm pleased that no one has intentionally done it to me. Or at least I don't think they have. Someone else in the casting did seem to have all kinds of trouble understanding the unbelievably simple directions we were given. She misunderstood them so well that I was worried that it was actually me doing the misunderstanding. Maybe this was her way of trying to destroy my desperate few seconds in front of the camera. Clearly she doesn't read my blog because otherwise she'd know that I rarely need someone to mess things up for me. If she was an avid reader then she would've known that I'd do the first take with part of the supplied costume on incorrectly.
But it was all very enjoyable and even while waiting to go in, I managed to not get annoyed by someone asking the receptionist if they had a pen while standing next to the biggest bucket of pens in the entire world and instead applied for three jobs. Yep. While you were all working for a living, I decided to become a mathematical genius and cube my chances of rejection. (I realise that 'cube' is the incorrect term for multiplying something by three but I prefer the way it sounds. Artistic license/laziness and all that.) And then, to top it off, on my way out of the casting, I called an agent and arranged a meeting for tomorrow. I am Princess of the Productive, Earless of the Efficient and Duchess of the Diary.
I really feel that I should spend the rest of today basking in the glory of my morning's work. Many an hour should be spent at the wonderful things I've achieved and I feel I need time to marvel at just how little will come of all the work I've done this morning. But instead I have to trek for nearly two hours across London to speak three sentences in my second audition of the day. I wish that was an exagerration but this time I'm not lying for dramatic blogging purposes. Today three is truly the magic number...
I started my day with a very fun casting indeed. I don't want to give too much away as that would break the Miss L code and they'll take away my 2008 copy of Contacts if I go against it. But I got to pretend I did a job that real people do that actually saves lives and it was a whole lot of fun. It took bloody ages because despite wanting to audition people individually, they called people in six at a time meaning that you had to be involved in the casting experience of five other desperate actors. I'm always amazed at how no one ever sabotages someone else's moment to shine. I mean, I'm pleased that no one does this because it would be bloody horrible but I have to admit that it occasionally crosses my mind. I'd never do it because I'm not good at these sort of things and I'd end up messing up my evil little plan and somehow manage to make the victim look even better. That's just how I do things. But I'm pleased that no one has intentionally done it to me. Or at least I don't think they have. Someone else in the casting did seem to have all kinds of trouble understanding the unbelievably simple directions we were given. She misunderstood them so well that I was worried that it was actually me doing the misunderstanding. Maybe this was her way of trying to destroy my desperate few seconds in front of the camera. Clearly she doesn't read my blog because otherwise she'd know that I rarely need someone to mess things up for me. If she was an avid reader then she would've known that I'd do the first take with part of the supplied costume on incorrectly.
But it was all very enjoyable and even while waiting to go in, I managed to not get annoyed by someone asking the receptionist if they had a pen while standing next to the biggest bucket of pens in the entire world and instead applied for three jobs. Yep. While you were all working for a living, I decided to become a mathematical genius and cube my chances of rejection. (I realise that 'cube' is the incorrect term for multiplying something by three but I prefer the way it sounds. Artistic license/laziness and all that.) And then, to top it off, on my way out of the casting, I called an agent and arranged a meeting for tomorrow. I am Princess of the Productive, Earless of the Efficient and Duchess of the Diary.
I really feel that I should spend the rest of today basking in the glory of my morning's work. Many an hour should be spent at the wonderful things I've achieved and I feel I need time to marvel at just how little will come of all the work I've done this morning. But instead I have to trek for nearly two hours across London to speak three sentences in my second audition of the day. I wish that was an exagerration but this time I'm not lying for dramatic blogging purposes. Today three is truly the magic number...
Tuesday, 1 November 2011
Out of Office
I'm sure you've all been wondering what happened to your daily fix of The Misadventures of Miss L. I imagine you've all been crying into your pillows at night and drowning your sorrows in that fifth whisky as you wondering what possible scrapes and mishaps I was currently getting into. Sorry, what? You weren't? You actually enjoyed the silence? Oh. Sorry. You might be disappointed with what's about to come up...
I've been away this weekend in gorgeous, beautiful Ireland. T was working over there and like the tagalong that I am, I decided I'd get in on the fun too. Despite having to work on my accent while over there, I genuinely saw it as a weekend away where I didn't have to worry about trying to make a living. I could have just a few days where I wasn't constantly scanning casting calls and churning out the same old cover letter. Just a couple of days where I'm not battling with my ego and wondering whether I can really put myself up for a role that calls for the actress to be 'beautiful' and whether I can still genuinely use my stage combat certificate from 8 years ago as proof that I can be trusted with a rapier. But of course, we all know that the world of acting doesn't work like that. When it's quiet, you spend your days constantly checking an inbox that never receives anything other than newsletters that you can't be bothered to unsubscribe from and a phone that only receives calls from people who have accidentally rung you and you're left listening to the swishing of their bag for 10 minutes. But when you're busy and have gots lots of other lovely things you want to be doing, the whole world is after you.
To be fair, most of the weekend was pretty quiet and I was able to spend much of my time drinking Guinness, eating potatoes and wondering just how much I was becoming the tourist stereotype. Most of my weekend was spent feeling very lucky that I was getting to watch some amazing comedy and this was interspersed with a lot of drinking, laughing and marvelling at just how seriously the Irish take Halloween. So I can't really complain. But I will. The problem was that yesterday, in Ireland, it was a bank holiday. And because I'd done such a good job at practicing my bestest Irish accent (I listened to roughly three sentences) I reckoned I deserved an extra day off too. But oh no. Because I work in a country that hates the idea of giving people a day off so they can carve pumpkins and mess around with fake blood, everyone decided that they would all get in touch. Of course, when I say everyone, I actually mean that two people got in touch over the course of 7 hours. But to a resting actress, a couple of audition offers on the same day is about as magical as Paul Daniels fronting a Magic Numbers tribute band.
The first came in the shape of a rehearsed reading. I have no idea what it's about but I saw there was a little bit of money involved so that's all that really matters. The audition was organised for Wednesday so that was great. Hooray, I can get on with my day, safe in the knowledge that I have an audition waiting for me for when I get back. In the afternoon, T and I went for a walk and lo and behold, I get another call asking me if I want to audition for an advert. Of course I do. So, with the wind howling through my hair and the rain lashing my face, I organised a second audition for Wednesday. I was getting good at this. With my head growing at a rate faster than the speed of light, we retreated to a pub where the realisation hit that with filming coming up this week too, I was going to be a very busy Miss L indeed.
So it seems the secret ingredient to getting auditions is to be out of the country as much as possible. If anyone would therefore like to whisk me away so that the casting directors can come chasing up after me, you know what to do...
I've been away this weekend in gorgeous, beautiful Ireland. T was working over there and like the tagalong that I am, I decided I'd get in on the fun too. Despite having to work on my accent while over there, I genuinely saw it as a weekend away where I didn't have to worry about trying to make a living. I could have just a few days where I wasn't constantly scanning casting calls and churning out the same old cover letter. Just a couple of days where I'm not battling with my ego and wondering whether I can really put myself up for a role that calls for the actress to be 'beautiful' and whether I can still genuinely use my stage combat certificate from 8 years ago as proof that I can be trusted with a rapier. But of course, we all know that the world of acting doesn't work like that. When it's quiet, you spend your days constantly checking an inbox that never receives anything other than newsletters that you can't be bothered to unsubscribe from and a phone that only receives calls from people who have accidentally rung you and you're left listening to the swishing of their bag for 10 minutes. But when you're busy and have gots lots of other lovely things you want to be doing, the whole world is after you.
To be fair, most of the weekend was pretty quiet and I was able to spend much of my time drinking Guinness, eating potatoes and wondering just how much I was becoming the tourist stereotype. Most of my weekend was spent feeling very lucky that I was getting to watch some amazing comedy and this was interspersed with a lot of drinking, laughing and marvelling at just how seriously the Irish take Halloween. So I can't really complain. But I will. The problem was that yesterday, in Ireland, it was a bank holiday. And because I'd done such a good job at practicing my bestest Irish accent (I listened to roughly three sentences) I reckoned I deserved an extra day off too. But oh no. Because I work in a country that hates the idea of giving people a day off so they can carve pumpkins and mess around with fake blood, everyone decided that they would all get in touch. Of course, when I say everyone, I actually mean that two people got in touch over the course of 7 hours. But to a resting actress, a couple of audition offers on the same day is about as magical as Paul Daniels fronting a Magic Numbers tribute band.
The first came in the shape of a rehearsed reading. I have no idea what it's about but I saw there was a little bit of money involved so that's all that really matters. The audition was organised for Wednesday so that was great. Hooray, I can get on with my day, safe in the knowledge that I have an audition waiting for me for when I get back. In the afternoon, T and I went for a walk and lo and behold, I get another call asking me if I want to audition for an advert. Of course I do. So, with the wind howling through my hair and the rain lashing my face, I organised a second audition for Wednesday. I was getting good at this. With my head growing at a rate faster than the speed of light, we retreated to a pub where the realisation hit that with filming coming up this week too, I was going to be a very busy Miss L indeed.
So it seems the secret ingredient to getting auditions is to be out of the country as much as possible. If anyone would therefore like to whisk me away so that the casting directors can come chasing up after me, you know what to do...
Thursday, 27 October 2011
Miracles
Yesterday afternoon I found that just very occassionally, miracles can happen. Despite my apparently desperate attempts to sabotage my entire acting career, as described in Monday's entry Surprises, I only went and bloody landed myself one of the parts. It was one of those calls where the director spent a good few minutes telling me how much they enjoyed my audition and how impressed they were but I was still convinced that it would end with the dreaded 'unfortunately we just don't think you were right for any of the roles available at this time but we'll definitely keep you in mind for future roles.' But don't worry, the world won't be subjected to my highly skilled, rapping ways. Nor will it be forced to watch the part that was probably closest to my casting. Oh no. Instead anyone with internet access will worryingly be just a few clicks away from seeing me pretending to be a 16 year old Irish girl who lives on a London estate. Bin your router and get closing your internet accounts now. Soon the world wide web will be a far scarier place.
Shooting starts next week and I've just spent the last half an hour getting massively excited about the script. I get to brandish weapons, run away from monsters and strangle someone. It's one of those scripts that properly reminds me how lucky I am to do this job. Of course, the role doesn't pay but how many people get to spend their weekdays racing around a housing estate attacking monsters? Loads? Oh. Well how many people get to do it while doing a hack Irish accent?
But the miracle of getting the job doesn't stop there. Oh no. So, faced with the prospect of making sure that I'm tone perfect with this non-Welsh accent, I'd normally have to spend hours couped up in my room desperately mimicking poorly made YouTube clips. But not this time. Because Mr Miracle has decided that this week he wants me for a sunbeam, I only happen to be going to bloody Ireland this weekend. This means that I can annoy everyone I speak to by constantly whispering back everything they say in an accent that probably sounds like it's been backpacking round the world twice. If you live in Ireland then it's probably best to use this weekend as the perfect excuse to go on that holiday that you've always talked about. You have been warned.
I've got a week to get this accent nailed. If you hear a muttered dodgy Dublin accent next to you when you're on the tube or ghastly Galway mutterings drift your way while you're stood at the bus stop then I can almost guarantee that you finally discover who the mysterious Miss L is. If anyone has any tips, or even better, how to get Mr Miracle to stick around until the film has wrapped, then please let me know.
Shooting starts next week and I've just spent the last half an hour getting massively excited about the script. I get to brandish weapons, run away from monsters and strangle someone. It's one of those scripts that properly reminds me how lucky I am to do this job. Of course, the role doesn't pay but how many people get to spend their weekdays racing around a housing estate attacking monsters? Loads? Oh. Well how many people get to do it while doing a hack Irish accent?
But the miracle of getting the job doesn't stop there. Oh no. So, faced with the prospect of making sure that I'm tone perfect with this non-Welsh accent, I'd normally have to spend hours couped up in my room desperately mimicking poorly made YouTube clips. But not this time. Because Mr Miracle has decided that this week he wants me for a sunbeam, I only happen to be going to bloody Ireland this weekend. This means that I can annoy everyone I speak to by constantly whispering back everything they say in an accent that probably sounds like it's been backpacking round the world twice. If you live in Ireland then it's probably best to use this weekend as the perfect excuse to go on that holiday that you've always talked about. You have been warned.
I've got a week to get this accent nailed. If you hear a muttered dodgy Dublin accent next to you when you're on the tube or ghastly Galway mutterings drift your way while you're stood at the bus stop then I can almost guarantee that you finally discover who the mysterious Miss L is. If anyone has any tips, or even better, how to get Mr Miracle to stick around until the film has wrapped, then please let me know.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)