tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15590089438483375272024-02-08T13:20:12.142+00:00I'm Just An Actor Dressed as a ForkThe Trials and Tribulations of Four Actresses In LondonThe Actresseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02375987330846904100noreply@blogger.comBlogger18125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1559008943848337527.post-24299053063006464172010-12-22T16:21:00.000+00:002010-12-22T16:22:27.209+00:00Whats a Girl Gotta Do To Get An Agent In This Town?<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Apart from the obvious of course, which I considered and decided isn't tempting.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I mean seriously, what does it take? Apart from being an elderly Korean man, or any man frankly. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I know I should be looking at myself and thinking, “Yes Frothy Mocha, you are unique! You are the only actress out there that’s like you.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But it’s very difficult when you look at agent’s websites and trawl through pages of girls in the 25-35 bracket who look exactly like me.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">From what I’ve seen in the year and a half I’ve been writing to agents, it’s virtually impossible to get any decent quality paid work without one. Most higher profile establishments, and especially commercials, are closed shops to any outside the comfy confines of the inner circle.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I’ve had two different sets of headshots, I’ve done several bits of (unpaid) theatre which they could have come and see including most recently in a really convenient respected fringe venue.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And do they come? Do they, my arse.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I’m in the most heavily populated bracket possible and I have very little that marks me down as seriously different.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I’m slightly mixed-race but not specific enough.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I can’t tap-dance, ride a motorbike, tight-rope walk, speak seventeen languages, play the accordion or drive an HGV. I’m not a tennis-pro, Mariah-impersonator, I’m not quirky, edgy, hip or whatever you kids call it these days.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And I’m not over 40. Although I’m starting to wish I were.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I’m a regular, Caucasian-ish actress, slightly over thirty, and I can sing. Solid, reliable, talented, trained and professional.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">That, apparently, isn’t enough.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Answers on a postcard. Or comment box.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><b><i><br />
</i></b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><b><i>Frothy Mocha x</i></b></span></div>The Actresseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02375987330846904100noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1559008943848337527.post-34890322095982389172010-12-06T22:12:00.001+00:002010-12-21T14:02:30.323+00:00Zzzz, Yay!, Zzzzz, Yay!, Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">That’s pretty much been the pattern of my life for the last 6 weeks or so.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">For that blessed period I have been able to call myself a working actor in a decent run of a good show on the fringe.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And like most jobbing actors, this period involves working the day job at the same time, where I must confess to working pretty much on auto-pilot whilst my body deals with burning the candle at both ends, and in the middle.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Rehearsal period busy but not too bad despite the boss’s irritation at my change in shift patterns. Then the run which mostly went thus:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Urgh</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Tube</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Work</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Tube</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Shower</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Change</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Tube</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Show</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Tube</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Sleep</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Urgh</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Wash, Rinse, Repeat.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I have given up any hope of having a home and decided to live permanently on the Tube.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">An old actor once said to me that most actors put the same amount of effort into a two hour performance as most people do into an eight hour day. So when you’re doing both, it pretty much renders you incapable of functioning as a human being.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But now that it’s all over, and I am exhausted, run down, badly-nourished and under-sexed, I already miss it.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Finally I can do laundry, catch up with long-neglected friends, clean stuff and do something about the spots that rose to the surface under the constant bombardment of stage make up. And tomorrow I get to go back to the day job, without the “distraction” of my actual career.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I’m whooping with joy. Blink and you’ll miss it.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Frothy Mocha x</span></span></i></b></div>The Actresseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02375987330846904100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1559008943848337527.post-10805423394883290542010-11-07T21:33:00.002+00:002010-12-21T14:02:30.324+00:00Sunday<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Tonight I imagined myself winning the BAFTA for best actress. Details included what I'd wear, who my date would be and what I'd say in my speech. I decided I'd be on the verge of tears but manage to hold them back.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I now feel fully prepared... and a tad suicidal.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Sigh.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Americano with Soy</b></span></span>The Actresseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02375987330846904100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1559008943848337527.post-10418605678896739092010-11-04T13:25:00.001+00:002010-12-21T14:02:30.325+00:00Another Day Another Dollar?<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It's all very well following your dream and that, but it's another thing entirely not having any bloody money! Now I can't complain too much, I live at home rent free (thanks Ma!) so I obviously save a big chunk in that department, but still! I still find my precious pennies draining away, and I'm intending (dreaming, hoping, praying) on moving out sometime next summer.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Par example:</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><u>Oyster Card</u>: at least £20 a week, if not more.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><u>General Weekend Socialising</u>: £30-60 a night, depending on the type of night it is.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><u>Phone Bil</u>l: £40 a month.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><u>Nightclub Membership</u>: £7 a month (yes I know this one isn't reeeeaaally necessary but if you new me you'd understand!)</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><u>Afghan Aid Donations</u>: £2 a month.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><u>Going To The Various Shows of Everyone You Know That's Now an Acto</u>r: £8-10 a pop.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So you see it all adds up. Plus there's a hundred other things I'd love to be able to do to better myself, such as join a gym, singing lessons, Spanish lessons, a DJ course. Ha! Dream on! At the moment I need to have 2 regular jobs to afford all the day to day stuff and attempt to save up to move out. So if I'm working most afternoons at job 1 and then most evenings at job 2 when oh when do I have time to go on auditions etc so I can begin to flourish in my ACTual job?! Hmm??? I haven't even glimpsed at CCP for weeks! Plus my internal calendar can only really handle one thing at a time, so what with trying to figure out when I'm free to do what shifts for which job there's no room in there to make myself available for afore mentioned 3rd job.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'd say I'm not so much living the dream as dreaming the dream... cue SueBo.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><b>Americano With Soy</b></span></span>The Actresseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02375987330846904100noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1559008943848337527.post-55909327491887153442010-09-25T10:09:00.001+01:002010-12-21T14:02:18.848+00:00You Gotta Love The Tube<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Personally I think all those people that sit on the Tube with their head stuck in a Metro, or zoned out on their iPhones with headphones on, are missing out.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You may think I say this because a) I get travel sick if I read on the Tube and b) I can’t afford an iPhone. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">No, I say this because you really are missing out on a wonderful world of freaks. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">London is a perfect melting pot for them, and the Tube (or any form of public transport) an excellent cross section of said pot. For an actor, this is an invaluable source of material. Characters leap out at you from all angles. Real people, with real lives and real habits, are fascinating.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Where else can you see a man in a business suit, wearing headphones and weight-lifter gloves doing a full work out of sit-ups, press-ups and chin-ups on the District Line?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And, I swear I kid you not, the following day, same line, same time, a completely different man doing exactly the same thing?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Where else does a large German gentleman slide his head beneath your arm that is holding the overhead pole and loom around your neck so that he can read the map?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The average looking middle-aged woman carrying a can of Special Brew with a straw in it. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The elderly man who thinks he’s Quentin Crisp. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The people who suddenly remember something funny and accidentally laugh out loud.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The people who don’t think you can see them picking their nose.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The looks on people’s faces when they get a text message from someone good.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The drunks, the harassed mothers, the students, the tramps, the tourists. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Ohhhh the tourists. Particularly the ones that get off with large suitcases and immediately stand still and go “Hmmm, now I wonder where I’m going.” While 50 commuters pile up behind them in an angry sweating human bottleneck.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">(My most favourite line from American tourists: “Oh look honey…Bond Street. Is that the same as James Bond Street?” )</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Seriously? </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I particularly enjoy watching people, and note I do not just say “women” here, doing their make-up on a Tube. I’ve done it myself and I find it fascinating watching them slowly and patiently transform. Waiting to apply the eyeliner until a smooth portion of the track. And then occasionally seeing them accidentally shoot lipstick across their face.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">(Acton Town = to be avoided, trust me.)</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Then there are the couples. Its funny how when you are single, every single damn journey involves sitting opposite a loved-up couple trying to consume each other. You just want to yell “Thanks a bunch guys, I’m going to die alone. Get a room!”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Then of course when you’re with someone, it seems like the most natural thing in the world to try to eat their face in public.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But for me, the most invaluable and utterly reliable thing about the Transport for London system… is its unreliability.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">You can have complete faith in it to fall apart somewhere, every single day. And for that perfect reason, even you are late for something and it’s entirely your own fault, you can just roll your eyes and say “Oh My God, the Central Line…just…Ugh”. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And everyone will believe you.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Frothy Mocha x</span></b></i></span></div>The Actresseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02375987330846904100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1559008943848337527.post-10772948398897914922010-08-11T13:40:00.000+01:002010-12-21T14:02:30.326+00:00Trusting? Bonkers? Both?<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I often muse to myself, when I'm standing outside an improbable location or picking my way through dark streets looking for an address, that I must be either very trusting or completely bonkers.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">For example, I got a small bit-part job on a low budget film. Couple of hours work, nice bit of showreel material. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Their previous actress had to drop out at the last minute so they had no time to audition, the bubbly production assistant said on the phone, just pop along to location for 8pm tomorrow and we will meet you there. Sweet.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Off I trot, map in hand to the address in North London. A good ten minute walk from the nearest tube and the further I progress down the street, the more apparent it becomes to me that I am alone, walking down an unfamiliar London street, in the dark on a Friday night. Late night takeaways and mini cab offices as far as the eye can see. Even the drinking population has thinned out once I reach the location which would appear to be a flat above a kebab shop. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Of course there is nothing to indicate that it might be a location for a film shoot. Not a soul in sight. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">8.00pm strikes and I start to ring the production assistant, whose phone rings out. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">At 8.15pm I’m starting to wish I had told someone where I was going.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">At 8.20pm, Production Assistant calls to say they are “soooo sorry, they are on route from another location and they’ll be there soon”.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">At 8.30pm a van rolls up and two large men start hefting what looks reassuringly like filming gear out. They come up to the doorway where I have been cowering and trying to look like the wall and I decide to ask them if they are with the film. They open up the flat and send me upstairs to wait and as I start gingerly picking my way up 8 flights of cold concrete stairwell that smells a little too much like wee, I think to myself..</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“I must be mad. I could get murdered here and no one would ever know.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Of course by 8.45pm the rest of the crew roll up, tired and hungry and indulge in a Chinese before starting my scenes. But all in all I was still all done, costume, make-up, read through, shooting, re-shooting, pickups, by 10.30pm.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It’s a miracle frankly that more people haven’t realised the ridiculous risks we run in the pursuit of work. How trusting we are that people are genuine. Americano with Soy is always calling me outside auditions and shoots going “What do I do there’s no one here…” “I’m bored waiting, how are you…oh wait there they are, bye!”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It’s always nice though when you see someone else in the same place, with a mobile and an Equity diary obviously thinking the same thing you are.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I thought it again a few days ago when I was looking for a random basement flat where I was supposed to rehearse. As I picked my way down the dark street I thought…</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">“Trusting? Bonkers? Both?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Jury’s still out on that one.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p> <i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Frothy Mocha x</span></span></b></i></o:p></div>The Actresseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02375987330846904100noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1559008943848337527.post-42629643564192158252010-06-07T16:51:00.002+01:002010-12-21T14:02:30.328+00:00Give Me Something To Work With!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">To the people at Blah Blah productions,</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I would like to apply for the role of blah blah. The premise of blah blah is really intriguing and I would love the chance to be a part of it. I believe I would bring a good energy to the role blah blah blah blah <span class="goog-spellcheck-word">blllaaaaaaaaahhhhh</span>....</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In case you couldn't tell, covering letters annoy me slightly. Not all of them. Some casting breakdowns will give you loads of information about the production and the character so you can pick out certain points and relate them to yourself and your past professional/life experiences. Maybe even drop in an amusing anecdote if it's appropriate and sit back feeling very smug and pleased with yourself.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'm talking more about the ones who are looking for "actor any gender any age any ethnicity I don't really care as long as you are a human person and even then I'm not fussy and then when you make the effort to come in for the audition I will decide that you are not what I was looking for and reject you and wonder to myself why you even bothered to apply because I clearly have no idea what I'm doing." You know the ones.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">What, pray tell, are we supposed to write in these instances? How are we supposed to make ourselves stand out? What can we use to show them that we are perfect for the role? Nothing, that's what. So it's over to old copy & paste to fill the box with a generic message that will no doubt prompt our good friend "Application Not Taken Forward" to rear it's ugly head.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So, to the people that put no effort into their casting breakdowns and expect maximum effort from us in return... damn you I say. Damn you.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="goog-spellcheck-word"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">Americano</span></b></span><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"> With Soy</span></b></span></span>The Actresseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02375987330846904100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1559008943848337527.post-68650524016113444602010-05-15T15:44:00.002+01:002010-12-21T14:02:30.329+00:00Who Designed the Toilet Cubicle Anyway?<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">A question I have asked myself many times when I have found myself wedged up against the wall, one foot on the bowl, surrounded by bags, trying to squeeze into a pair of tights.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Toilet cubicles, railway platforms and, when you’re feeling flush, coffee shops have long been the place for a busy actor to regroup between appointments.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Many a time have I bolted down my lunch on a tube platform. Changed shoes and done hair and make up on a train. My fetish for being ridiculously early for everything has meant I have loitered like a permanent ghostly presence in many a Pret a Manger. And regularly had a complete costume change in a public convenience.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Particularly good are the times when you are performing in a venue with little or no backstage space. I did a show once in a small community centre which provided a 6ft by 5ft cupboard as wardrobe and make up for 6 actors including 3 large men. Don’t get me wrong, I have no qualms about changing in front of other people, but some things a lady really needs to attend to in private. So I would trot off to the freezing dimly lit ladies room to find myself doing a masterclass in advanced gymnastics trying to squeeze into my epic suck-it-all-in pants.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">If I had my way, toilet cubicles would be considerably bigger. With shelves, hanging space and a stock of essentials. Perhaps actors should form a pact, much like Arctic explorers do when they use those huts in the middle of nowhere, of keeping the fire laid and the matches out for the next poor frost-bitten soul.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Whoever changes in the cubicle last leaves out tissues, hair grips and some Echinacea.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Frothy Mocha x</span></i></b></span></div>The Actresseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02375987330846904100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1559008943848337527.post-53379218587663492582010-04-24T11:19:00.000+01:002010-12-21T14:02:30.330+00:00It’ll Be The Shirt Off My Back Next<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This is a story of what friends do for each other, when friends are actors. In no other world is this likely to happen.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I was rudely awoken this morning by the clamour of my mobile ringing. It was my flatmate who is currently filming a student TV drama at his drama school with a big Director. I thought I would answer it as he knows I work into the night and am usually asleep at 10am so surely it must be important.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The conversation went thus:</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Him: “You know how much you love me?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Me: “What do you want..”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Him “Can I borrow your duvet and pillows”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Me: “What? Whats wrong with yours?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Him: “Director doesn’t think they are suitable for the shot, he wants different ones. Oh and can you bring it to the set.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Me: “Oh God, well I’ll have to change the linen. Let me know when you need it for.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Him: “Er….now.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Me: “Fuck Off”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In what possible other world, would someone risk their lives by taking the duvet and pillows from a sleeping woman who works nights and could have got another 2 hours sleep before going to work again. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I totally get the whole “do what you have to do to get the show on”. I work hard, never take sickies and I’m never late. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">But what’s next? Has it got to the stage when we are so scared of the wrath of the “Director” that we’d kick a nun over in the street just to please them?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Luckily for my flatmate, I know the Director and just how intimidating he can be. So I compromised with some of my sets of linen which he is under strict instructions to wash.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And I told him to tell the Director if he wants any of my knickers or the shirt off my back, he can come and get them himself.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Somehow I think he might not pass that along.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-large;"><b><br />
</b></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-large;"><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Frothy Mocha x</span></i></b></span></div>The Actresseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02375987330846904100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1559008943848337527.post-36052482365688398112010-04-23T16:15:00.000+01:002010-12-21T14:02:30.331+00:00If Anyone Finds a Mojo, It’s Mine<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I woke up today 2 hours later than planned and started my day as usual by making my weapons-grade strength flagon of Tesco Value coffee.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I put the hot water and milk in and then I stared at it for fully 20 seconds before realising what was missing.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Coffee.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Such is the level of my brain function this week. I’m assuming its not early onset dementia. I’m a little older than the other Fork-Girls but I’m not that old, thank you.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I seem to have slipped without realising into one of the slumps. Those abysses of nothing-ness I’m sure everyone recognises, when you don’t have any auditions or any little jobs on the horizon. And the fear that nothing will ever turn up again. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It’s not as if I haven’t been there before. My fellow graduates, and I’m sure all of you, will all have been through that terrible void that no one quite prepares you for when you leave the safe cocoon of Drama School and find you really are on your own and no one wants to hire you.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Then suddenly you get one little job, you’re reminded why you live like you do and finally you have something to say when faced with the dreaded question.. “So what have you been doing lately?”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It’s amazing, though, how quickly you forget how that feels. You work your day job, which in my case is a night job in a bar. You start to get seduced by that feeling of cool green money between your fingers and food in your fridge. So you work more and more nights and before you know it you’re sleeping through the day and staring at a mug wondering why it looks odd.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It’s so easy to slip into self-indulgence and self-pity. I’m certainly not the only one. Every actor has it, it's part of the job. So how do you get out?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-large;"><i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Frothy Mocha x</span></b></i></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>The Actresseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02375987330846904100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1559008943848337527.post-17723513053781765502010-04-09T17:48:00.001+01:002010-12-21T14:02:30.332+00:00Does That Make Me Crazy?<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I have a little friend that some of you may recognise. I call her my Secret Crazy Lady.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">She’s the one that rushes like a bull in a china shop through your head telling you to do stuff that you would NEVER want people to see.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My Crazy Lady visited today when I applied for a job on a casting website. Perfect casting for me, I wrote an amazing eye-catching letter. I had even played it before.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And within 30 seconds I got the automated rejection response. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Crazy Lady instantly demanded that I ring the production company and shriek “WHY? Have you read my letter? Have you even looked at my profile?? No! You don’t know what you’re missing! Damn you! Damn you I say!!!”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Of course, I didn’t. I put Crazy Lady back in her box and got on with my day.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I firmly believe everyone has one. She’s the one that made Americano with Soy want to grab the director by the collar and scream “But you said you’d definitely use me again!”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">She’s the one that makes you list Circus Skills on your CV to make you stand out even though if a director stuck you on a trapeze you would probably break every bone in your body.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And its not limited to acting. She also gets you those times when you like a guy and you find yourself stalking his Facebook evaluating his female friends to see if they are pretty.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Or when you finally get together with someone you’ve liked for ages, and you wake up in the night and want to take a picture of him asleep just to prove it had really happened. Before remembering that is stalker behaviour. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Not that that was me. Not at all. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">She is the voice of irrational paranoia. Of spontaneous longing. Is it crazy? Is it normal human behaviour? A fear of rejection not only from lovers but from a career that means everything in the world to you?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Those of you who have your own Crazy Ladies (or indeed Men) may well know what I mean.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Those who don’t. You lie ;-) </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></b></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Frothy Mocha x</span></span></b></i></div>The Actresseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02375987330846904100noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1559008943848337527.post-67148963993178683292010-04-07T21:34:00.000+01:002010-12-21T14:02:30.333+00:00Note to Frothy Mocha!<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">All I have to add is....SHIT! Frothy Mocha I need you and your spreadsheets in my life....as of yesterday!</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And thats why I got named Sweet Cuppa!</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">xxxx</span>The Actresseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02375987330846904100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1559008943848337527.post-19960832362572687542010-04-05T18:27:00.001+01:002010-12-21T14:02:30.334+00:00Spreadsheets Make Me Happy<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It’s nearing that time of year again. The end of the tax year. That time when people start panicking and asking things like “Do I need to do my tax return by next week?” (No) “What do I do with all my receipts?” (Keep them) “Do you know any good accountants?” (Yes) “How are you so calm about it???”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This one I can only answer by revealing one of my guilty pleasures. Microsoft Excel.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">After spending my formative years concealing it, a combination of age and drama school have taught me to embrace who I am, however weird and wonderful. And who I am, is a geek.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I love spreadsheets. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I don’t mean to boast here but the day after I graduated from drama school, I registered as self employed and went through the pleasant and therapeutic process of creating beautiful orderly spreadsheets on which to log my every business expense and income. There is something about the neat columns, the ability to order it, compartmentalise and even make a pie chart that pleases me. Everything is there. Everything is clear. Yes I’m sad.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Granted, the expenses sheet is considerably longer than the income sheet. Even though I’ve been lucky enough to have had several jobs in my 8 months in the professional world, none of them have been paid. Three of them have been for expenses. One of which still owes me money.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Which leads on to a whole fresh rant which I shan’t bore you with now entitled “How to Extract Money from Student Film-makers.” That will be my adventure for Monday. And I’m sure I’ll have something to say on the matter.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-large;">Frothy Mocha x</span></b></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>The Actresseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02375987330846904100noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1559008943848337527.post-68783322905271871812010-04-02T17:54:00.001+01:002010-12-21T14:02:30.336+00:00Espresso - Breath-taking<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I had my first medical roleplay job today. I'd been sent the outline of my character and situation last week. Basically my character had recently had an asthma attack and was visiting her doctor for advice. Simple I thought. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I learnt all my characters background and had even decided on my pet hamsters name, so as I approached the hospital I was feeling rather smug. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">OH DEAR.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As soon as I arrived the doctor informed me that I had been sent the wrong information and I was in fact having the bloody asthma attack </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">today</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">. So I had to pretend to have 10 attacks in total. I felt very weak as I was actually hyperventilating and there were pretend hospital things like Oxygen and Nebulisers (all just air and water but still...) that the students used on me. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The highlight was when the doctor told me that I was very good and convincing as an asthmatic! I must add it to my Spotlight skill list.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><b>Espresso</b></span></span>The Actresseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02375987330846904100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1559008943848337527.post-22703793058094324462010-03-31T20:28:00.005+01:002010-12-21T14:02:30.337+00:00Sweet Cuppa...With An Extra Few Lumps!<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Well I'm Sweet Cuppa and one of the fork actresses! So where to begin...</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Having thought about my first blog for some time...I came to the conclusion (mainly because I love all things feminine, cute and generally girly-hence the name sweet cuppa) that I would start with a little something that amused me which many female actresses may understand and empathize with.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Having read hundreds of casting breakdowns since graduating I am continually drawn to the "Appearance" section in which casting directors specify exactly what they would like in terms of a look. "Must be attractive", "Slim-Medium Build" and "Must have model looks but not an actual model" are phrases that both female and male actors alike often see.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So when I initally entered the weird and wonderful world of acting I began to ask myself: Are my cumbersome hips still in the "slim-medium" bracket? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Am I "attractive" or in fact just average?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And with a pair of suck-in pants and some tight leggings can I really appear two, or even three dress sizes smaller than I actually am?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Just for the record ladies, the answer to the last is Marks and Sparks can work wonders but in my case not miracles!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">These questions may be ones that you have indeed asked yourself prior to embarking on your journey to a casting. And when I recieved a breakdown only a few weeks ago that read "Size does not matter, but must be a slim size 10", I burst out into fits of....laughter (not tears - phew, I am mentally stable after all)!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I think one thing that I have learnt as a young (size 12-14) graduating female is don't allow yourself to get too hung up on appearance. It is of course an important factor in getting work but there are a lot of other contributing factors as well. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Being comfortable in yourself I think radiates..So if the woman on the Weight Watchers commercial can rock curves so can all us forks out there.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Oh and I did not apply for the above named casting!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Much love</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="color: #e06666; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-large;"><em><strong>Sweet Cuppa</strong></em></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Do the right thing and make it two lumps not just the one.</span>The Actresseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02375987330846904100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1559008943848337527.post-3823618772666940532010-03-30T18:38:00.000+01:002010-12-21T14:02:30.338+00:00Americano With Soy Reporting for Duty<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Segoe UI';">So… a few days before I'd even graduated I signed to an agency and within a week of that I had my first professional job. A corporate video for a very well known company in which I'd be playing one of their employees.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Segoe UI';">After having begun the audition by telling them my life-story when they asked for my profile (rather than the literal profile of my face) I assumed I hadn't got it. But they must have liked my moxy because my agent rung me the next day with the good news. It was an afternoon shoot which would pay a substantial amount and an extra £50 if I provided my own costume. Now this proved to be somewhat trickier than I'd imagined. Having never really worked in an office (I doubt my three days a week as an admin assistant in my gap year counts). I wasn't sure what I could dig out of my wardrobe that would fit the "office smart" requirement. However I somehow managed to put a decent outfit together (I always knew that shirt I'd bought for my Uni graduation ceremony would come in handy again.)<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Segoe UI';">The shoot went great, I was told by the director he couldn't believe this was my first time on set as I was so professional, and when I wrapped in less time that any of the other actors he even said "We'll definitely be using you again!" <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Segoe UI';">Little did I know that this opportunity would arise rather sooner than I imagined.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Segoe UI';">A few months down the line I got a call about an audition for another corporate video, so I donned my new "office smarts" and off I went. As I was sat in the waiting room reading over the script the same director for the last video walks out, "Hello, how are you? Good to see you again!" I looked around at my competition smugly. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Segoe UI';">Oh yes, I was in with the director.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Segoe UI';">The audition was done in pairs and I had mine with a man in his early 30's who I did think looked familiar. We walked in and the director greeted me by name in the same familiar way and then asked my partner what his name was. Again, smug. It did dawn on me that I was wearing the exact same outfit I'd used for the last shoot. The director then asked if I'd seen a copy of the last video as it was very good, smugness returned slightly.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Segoe UI';">By now I was a dab hand at "profile" and everything else, but then it got to "So, tell me what have you been doing recently." <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Segoe UI';">Well. I had done nothing professionally since that last corporate video with the <i>same</i> director, in the <i>exact same</i> outfit! As “Whats-his-name” began to reel off his various endeavours my smugness drained rapidly away. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Segoe UI';">All I could say was "Well... the last thing I did was actually a corporate video... which you already know about...!" <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Segoe UI';">That was it, in my moment of panic I didn't even think to lie and the embarrassment definitely affected my performance in the reading! <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Segoe UI';">I was almost tempted to quote the director back to himself. I envisioned my self grabbing him by the collar and pleading, "But you said you'd definitely use me again!!"<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: 'Segoe UI';">Needless to say, I never got the call.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Segoe UI'; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Americano With Soy</span></span></b></div>The Actresseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02375987330846904100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1559008943848337527.post-26578675027923045932010-03-19T15:17:00.002+00:002010-12-21T14:02:30.339+00:00Frothy Mocha and the Fork of Shame<div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Well I’ll introduce myself first. I’m Frothy Mocha and I was The Fork.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">This basically means I was the one with the promo job spending several sweaty hours in a long plywood tube with armholes, a breathing window and comedy feet. I did it, of course, for the reason any of us would do it. For the craic? Possibly. For the artistic merit? Possibly not. For the money…oh yes.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Those of you out there who have had similar jobs will understand that it was worth it for the limitless possibilities to freak people out. And to be honest, I thoroughly enjoyed myself after the initial twenty minutes of inhaling all the previous incumbents B.O and thinking..."</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Segoe UI', Tahoma, Verdana, Arial, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">I’m walking through a crowd of suited professionals dressed as a fork. I am dying of shame.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"> If I don’t h</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">unch my shoulders like Quasimodo I can neither see nor breath</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">e.”</span></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">However, I am a professional. And Fork-costume or not, I will suck it up and get on with it. This is what you do to make ends meet in a career that generally has a problem with letting you work normal hours.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">I did, however, have several interesting conversations through the course of the day. One woman wanted to know all about me, where I came from, what I wanted to be when I became a full cutlery set. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Another man had a major problem with the brand that I was promoting. I listened patiently to his issues and nodded (which via the plywood tube involved the Fork’s entire brightly coloured body nodding sagely at him). In the end I directed him to the brand employees who knew what the hell he was talking about and I apologised, uttering the immortal words...”I’m sorry I can’t help you more sir, I’m just an actor dressed as a fork.”</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;"><br />
</span> </span><br />
<i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: white;">Frothy Mocha x</span></span></span></b></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>The Actresseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02375987330846904100noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1559008943848337527.post-67174045670745161812010-03-19T01:00:00.001+00:002010-12-21T14:02:30.340+00:00Welcome to I'm Just An Actor Dressed as a Fork!!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444; font-family: 'Segoe UI', Tahoma, Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"></span><br />
<div class="ecxecxecxecxMsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Welcome to the first post by the four graduate actresses collectively known as <b><i>“I’m Just An Actor Dressed As a Fork”.</i></b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><i> </i></b></span></div><div class="ecxecxecxecxMsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Take a glance into the worlds of Frothy Mocha, Sweet Cuppa, Espresso and Americano with Soy as they try their hardest to stand out in a cut-throat industry.</span></div><div class="ecxecxecxecxMsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The idea for this blog came about after a long overdue and boozy catch-up lunch (on a Monday as none of us were working). Many stories were told, laughed and cringed over and the last girls standing decided to pull together their various experiences of hilarity, horror and heartbreak that arise from the real world of a jobbing actress.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Which should be, frankly, an interesting insight into a f*cking strange industry.</span></div><div class="ecxecxecxecxMsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We all pledge to name no names and preserve the hard-earned reputations of everyone we meet. We only ask that if you recognise any of us through our stories that you respect our anonymity and preserve the secret code of the working actor.</span></div><div class="ecxecxecxecxMsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">And we will love you forever.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span></div><div class="ecxecxecxecxMsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 1.35em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">The Actresses</span></i></span></div>The Actresseshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02375987330846904100noreply@blogger.com2