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…

2015 - The Year Of Brill

“So when are we going to be seeing you in Coronation Street then?”

“Why don’t you just get yourself a better agent?”

“You know, you could always just do acting as a hobby and get a proper job instead?”

Chances are, especially if you’re a relatively new actor or seeing family or friends who haven’t quite learnt the etiquette yet, you’ve fielded at least one of those questions over the last week or so. In an ideal world, we’ll have all had a wonderful year and will have responses that will stop the asker in their tracks and cause them to retreat back into their eye-watering helping of Aunt Judy’s ‘Boozier Than Oliver Reed’ trifle. However, chances are, you’ll mumble something about the industry being really tough at the moment and try not to get too upset over the fact that your niece’s role in the nativity is a bigger role than you’ve had in years.

But it’s fine, right? You can just sign off 2014 as ‘one of those years.’ Sure, you didn’t land that TV role you were hoping for and it’s been yet another year that the National failed to acknowledge your existence, but, hey, your pyjama draw has never looked so neat and you can now say with confidence that you’ve tried every single flavour of Walkers crisps. Bet Cumberbatch can’t boast such things.

The problem with the cheesy, porty No Man’s Land of Christmas and New Year is that while the rest of the world is marvelling at the novelty of getting up at 10am and being able to start on the gin at lunch, you’re waiting for everything to get back to normal again. Don’t tell anyone but, when you’re self-employed, lie-ins and gin can happen pretty much any day of the year PLUS you’ve got a chance of getting work. But add the festive period into the mix and all you get is an empty diary, people wondering what day it is and constantly being asked “Why don’t you just do panto?”

Basically, the rest of the world becomes self-employed. And if there wasn’t endless cheese, booze and every food stuff now wrapped in pastry, it’d be horrible.

So, let’s look to 2015. Everyone is heading back to work now and although you can’t get up watch an animated film on BBC1 with your breakfast every morning, you can start looking at your career again.

Maybe you’ve made resolutions. Maybe you’ve decided enough is enough when it comes to unpaid work. Maybe you’re finally going to get new headshots. Maybe you’re going to stop lying on your CV.

Whatever your resolution is, or even if you don’t like making them, I do hope that this year you promise not to be too hard on yourself. Obviously, don’t be so easy on yourself that you manage to blitz all 6 series of RuPaul’s Drag Race in 2 days but, also, don’t be so hard on yourself that you beat yourself up daily for not being Tom Hardy.

This job is appalling at times and it’s easy to beat yourself up over the fact that you’re not getting any work. It will feel like that one person you went to drama school with is practically everywhere while the only person who recognises you is the postman who knows you’ll be in everyday to sign for your neighbours’ deliveries. Yes, you’re more acquainted with your pyjamas than you are your agent and the only lines you’ve learnt recently are the ones you recite when someone asks whether you’re working on anything at the moment, but you’re still brill. Really brill in fact. Because if you can keep working hard and keeping hold of that dream that got you through school and still puts a little skip in your step despite constant rejection then you are definitely brill.

So go forth, my actors. Wear your pyjamas with pride, keep that dream alive and don’t let anyone make you feel bad about anything; not even drinking wine at 2pm a Wednesday for no other reason than there was a bottle in the house and you want to congratulate yourself for finally changing that lightbulb in the hallway. And if you do end up blitzing RuPaul’s Drag Race so hard that you end up saying “Halleloo” to everything, you’re still brill.

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.

NAKED SEXY BOOBS

Recently Telegraph Women did a piece on the phrases that are only ever used to describe women. Words like ‘feisty’, ‘bitchy’, and, my personal worst, ‘sassy.’ Now, because everything in my head eventually ends up at what flavour crisps to have today or casting calls, I thought I’d take a look at how women are often described in the world of acting. The list in the Telegraph piece are all too regular when it comes to describing female characters but, of course, the world of acting can’t help but go that bit further…

EYE CANDY

I always hoped I’d see this awful phrase just once but, sadly not. This soul-bustingly terrible term comes up all too often and, most of the time, it’s used to describe women. Not only is it hugely derogatory towards women for reasons that should be hugely obvious (if not, this blog probably isn’t for you) but it’s also impressively insulting towards men too. The idea that men can only watch something that contains beautiful women is about as ridiculous as getting an actor to get your tax affairs in order.

DEAD

Many drama schools claim to get their gorgeous little actor fledglings ready for the realities for the acting industry. If that was true then the men would be sent off to learn a new, interesting character everyday while the women would spend 3 years being taught how to remain still while a prosthetic wound uncomfortably dries on their face and a pathologist pokes their boobs. One year I'd like to keep count of the amount of times a dead naked woman is wheeled out on a slab in films or on TV but I fear I'd run out of numbers around mid-March. 

NAKED

Find a casting call containing a woman and it generally won’t be long before the subject of nudity is brought up. If you haven’t got a woman getting her bits out in your film then, quite simply, you don’t have a film. FACT.

SEXY

This is an interesting one. And it's totally fine to explain how your characters look but if you find yourself looking for a sexy woman and an 'interesting' or 'confident' man then you need to take a serious look at what you're making. Describing a woman purely on her looks does not a female character make. 

CALL GIRL

  

Or prostitute. Or stripper. Or lapdancer.  Of course, there is nothing wrong with these professions or including them in your work. However, if you do have these roles in your film or on your stage then please write them to be more than just a pair of tits.

SLUT

Just don’t. Same goes for slapper. Thanks.

BOOBS

Much like nudity, boobs are often what are included in a script in place of a well-written female character. And who can blame ‘em because, really, what’s a women apart from a cracking pair of baps? Yep, that’s right. EVERYTHING.

BEAUTIFUL BUT SMART

This, along with ‘surprisingly beautiful geek’ and ‘actually pretty with no make-up’, comes up a lot. Let’s get this straight; being smart and beautiful doesn’t automatically make a woman some kind of witch. You don’t need to mention it. If you've written a smart and beautiful female character then congratulations, you've just written yourself a woman. 

So there we go. There's just a few that make my forehead meet my desk, wall and floor. Please, let's save the hard surfaces of the world and stop using these terms ALL THE BLOODY TIME. 

A woman is not just a pair of boobs or naked set dressing for your film. We're capable of heading up a storyline while keeping our clothes on. I promise. 

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.