The Not-So-Secret Actor

The Guardian has started a new blog called The Secret Actor. You can read it here: http://www.guardian.co.uk/culture/2013/apr/15/the-secret-actor-auditions?INTCMP=SRCH As an anonymous actor blogger myself, it made me bloody angry. In fact, I've barely stopped thinking about it all day. The thought that people might even consider that this accurately represents all actors has stuck with me for hours. So here is my response, the result of nearly 8 hours of festering musings. Enjoy (I hope)...

I'm not a well known actor. In fact, you'll never have heard of me. Yes, I'm anonymous but that's because I'm one of thousands. Even if I told you my name it would mean very little because there are so many others like me. Y'see, I'm part of The Great 98%. I'm in an exclusive club made up of a collective of actors who are lucky if they earn 35p a year and a lifetime's supply of sweaty sandwiches. Yes. I'm one of those 'unsuccessful' actors.

The Lucky 2% may have had some depressing, hilarious and outrageous encounters along the way. They've had tortuous auditions where they've had to hold up a bit of paper where their name has been misspelt. I know, makes your heart bleed doesn't it? But don't worry, that's in their past now. It's an amusing little anecdote they can tell while they remain safe in the knowledge that they can pay their rent without having to sign half their life away to a soulless call centre. The Lucky 2% may have some funny tales to tell but it's The Great 98% who are living it. Our lives are one long depressing, hilarious and outrageous encounter.

Oh to be humiliated by a piece of paper. Those of us in The Great 98% can only dream of auditions where the worst that can possibly happen is someone spelling our name wrong. If we're lucky enough to even get an audition we face far more degrading ordeals than the 'mugshot experience.' I've crawled around on the floor for three hours pretending to be a neanderthal while a production company threw chunks of stale bread at us to fight over. I've had to nervously hum 'Happy Birthday' in a dingy cellar, lit only by an angle-poise lamp and my own shame. I've had to pretend that I'm reading the news while aliens try to contact Earth via my teeth. I've run up and down a church hall for a solid 10 minutes in a swimming costume. I've been told that I should be ashamed of a reasonable character choice that I made. I've wandered around a building site for nearly 2 hours because the director didn't show up. I've fallen over more times than I dare to remember and I've fluffed my lines in front of some of the biggest casting directors in the world. I've misunderstood directions to the point where I've essentially made a fort out of every object in the room and I've worn the tightest jeans in the world to a movement audition. So, when all someone asks me to do is hold a piece of paper with my name spelt a bit wrong, you can see why it takes all my willpower to not hug them forever.

Yeah, being an actor is tough but a lot of people are struggling right now. I know actors can sometimes come across as selfish and self-obsessed but those traits aren't exclusive to actors. We chose this job and yes, we may complain about it but no one's making us do it. The 'poor me' routine won't work while there are around 2.5 million people unemployed in the UK at the moment and the majority of people are having a far worse time than we are. The nature of our work means we have to keep a close eye on ourselves most of the time but many of us are pretty good at keeping that other eye trained on the rest of the world. It makes us better actors and better people.

People think the acting industry is hugely sociable but I'm sure I speak for many actors when I say that it's very easy to feel rather lonely in this career. The reason I started writing this blog is because I wanted others to realise that it wasn't just them. We all, whatever job you may do, have those moments where we wonder what the heck we're doing and can't imagine anyone else is going through the same thing. So thank you, Secret Actor. Thank you for bringing solidarity to The Great 98%.