Two Words: Trophy Wife

About a month ago, auditions were held for an annual 10 Minute Play Festival that I had the privilege of being involved in last year. I wasn't sure if I wanted to audition this year because I have some tricks up my sleeve that I'm trying to master, but Perfect Friend said she was going to audition and it seemed like it could be our best shot yet at being involved in "something" together. Another dear friend of mine who I've been longing to work with again was also auditioning and THEN someone else said to me, "You ARE auditioning, RIGHT?" To which I replied, "Well, duh."

I had a blast at the audition last year; it was a big, giant mess of actors and directors and scripts and randomness and I loved it. This year, the process was entirely different. There were 9 directors present, and each of them was stationed at tables set up around the building. The actors got a list of the plays and what ages/genders were needed for each one. Then we found an open table and sat down with another actor or two to read from the script for the director. The system had its pros and cons. It was good to know that each director definitely got a chance to see me; it was also nice to get to read a bit of nearly every play being cast. However, it was odd not standing or moving much, and I was very easily distracted by what I could hear happening at the tables around me. I was also very distracted by the fact that I was leaving for Disney World the next morning and hadn't even started packing. For the most part, I felt very average about how I was reading...but there was one play that involved an amazing crazy lady that as I was reading I felt something switch ON in me and I was overcome by her very essence. So that was fun.

That night PF and I were talking it all over on the phone, reassuring ourselves and each other that no matter what we would be happy for the other and content with the outcome. While we were talking, she got another call. I waited for her to call me back...but then I had to go to sleep what with the early morning flight and all. The next morning, I listened to her voicemail. Guess what part she was offered? My first selfish, wounded, human thought was, "Come ON! Are you KIDDING me?" And then my second thought was, "I'm happy for her, I'm happy for her, I'm happy for her." Which I was. Am. Then I went to Disney World.

I didn't have access to email on vacation except via my crappy (at the time - I have since upgraded to a dreamy little number) cell phone. At the end of our first night, I got an email from one of the directors who said he liked how I had read for a certain character and he offered me the part. My first thought to that was, "Oh CRAP! I didn't even read for that character! He's thinking of someone else and didn't mean to offer this to me!" And I thought that before I accepted or got excited, I had to clarify that he did in fact have me in mind for the part. I didn't have his phone number so I fumbled out a reply on my phone that I hoped would not look like it had been fumbled out on a phone. He called me the next day and we cleared everything up...he DID mean to offer me the part...and I did accept it. And then I called PF and we rejoiced to some degree and then I went back to Disney World.

I read through the script when I got home from vacation, and was a tiny bit disappointed to learn that I didn't appear until page 8 of a 10 page script. However, my character is described as "absolutely gorgeous" so I just rolled around in that for a while until my ego threatened to kill me. We had our first rehearsal and by the end of it I was amazed by how well things had turned out. It's always best when I am not in charge of what the outcome will be. Our play has a cast of five which means, including the director, I get to work with five new fabulous people that I've never worked with before. They are fantastic, and since I don't appear until the end, I get to watch them and learn from them and laugh with them.

So, to sum up. First, if you have a friend called Perfect Friend, she will probably get the part you are crossing your fingers for. Second, if you have a friend called Perfect Friend, she will believe you when you say you're not bitter and will appreciate that for the sake of literary integrity you must milk the irony of a given situation for all its worth. Third, you don't know what's best for you so take what you're given and stop being such a baby.

Rejoice With Those Who Rejoice

Apparently my last post was not the bucket of sunshine my faithful readers hope for. As a happier follow-up, I thought I'd share this sweet little audition success story that a friend of mine wrote about recently:

"Went to an audition yesterday, and was a fill in for the old lady in the play for one of the scenes. Of course I went all out on the role thinking I wouldn't get it...hm...Well, I must have done a great job because I got the part!"

This is a friend I made during the aforementioned holiday play 2009. She was one of 5 adults in a cast of about 25. All of the adults had various ensemble roles to play and her primary role was that of the attention deficit family cat. I remember during initial rehearsals being, shall we say, startled, by her tremendous enthusiasm. She meowed and howled and purred and stretched and pawed...as cat-like as any human could be. I remember even cringing a little at one point, wondering if maybe she wasn't a little too over-the-top. But she put every ounce of herself into that cat and she brought something new to every rehearsal. I found myself admiring how creative and adventurous she was willing to be in order to make that darn cat the best darn cat the world had ever seen. And I noticed how every time she rehearsed a scene, the kids in the cast watched her with complete and utter delight.

Once the show opened, it became quite an event for some of the cast to gather around the monitor back stage in order to watch Snowbell the Cat's melodramatic "death" scene. We looked on in eager anticipation, wondering what new agony Snowbell would suffer for our entertainment. During a Q & A with the audience after one of our performances, each of the kids took turns sharing their favorite parts of the production. The most common response was a finger pointed at Snowbell...she had won their little hearts.

On the recommendation of many, I have been reading Michael Shurtleff's definitive guide to auditioning, aptly titled: Audition. He talks a lot about making bold choices and running with them...I think Snowbell's story shows just how powerful boldness can be.

Not Nearly Good Enough

I ran into a familiar face at an audition this week. We chatted a bit and in the course of conversation I said, "The problem with blogging is that you can't be completely honest." More accurately, you can't say everything you'd like to say. Okay you can. But not if you want to keep your friends. Not that I have anything bad to say about my friends. My friends are just great...but figuring out how to tactfully share less than dreamy experiences has nearly thrust me into permanent hibernation.

Let me just say that contrary to popular belief...not all children are wonderful. Some children are little monsters. In 2008, I had the privilege of being involved in a holiday production that was nothing short of magical. The cast consisted of 22 or so - 17 of which were under the age of 18. And every single one of those kidlets were wonderful. No exceptions. Even the trickier ones were wonderful, "quirky" perhaps, but I loved them with all my heart. Other (grown-up) people involved in the production would comment from time to time about what a unique and remarkable cast we were in how we bonded and played so well together. And I thought that surely they were exaggerating. They were not exaggerating. In 2009, I had the privilege once again to be involved in a holiday production at the same theater. It was not as magical. It was fine. It was fun. It was an honor to be included. Most of the children in the cast were glorious. But there were some children in that show who for the life of me I could not find it in my heart to love...or like...or tolerate. And I feel like a villain for saying it. But it's said. And that is all I will say about the time between the posts.

This week I was unsuccessful at yet another audition, and although I can blame it partially on a fierce respiratory cold, I must largely blame my lack of nerve control and my inability to be present in a given moment. It's ridiculous really, how distraught I am over this when I knew going into it that this particular audition would serve more as a "practice" audition than a viable acting opportunity. Even after I read the play in preparation for the audition, I closed the script and thought, "This play is far too sad. No one I know would want to see it. I don't want to be in it." Then I thought about it like a mature thinking-person and remembered that good doesn't always mean happy. The Glass Menagerie is not happy by any stretch of the imagination but it was one of the most amazing experiences of my life. Then I reminded myself that there was little chance of my being cast anyway, and as the only way to get good at auditioning is to audition, I determined to go to the darned thing and do my very best.

The hardest part is not that I wasn't cast...but rather that I didn't do my very best. I was trembly and dull and I think I might have skipped an entire section...but I can't even remember. It is just so exasperating to know that I could have done just heaps better. Unfortunately, a director who's never seen me act could not possibly be aware of that fact.

So I am now scouring for another audition to redeem myself with. Every time I "miss" at an audition, I feel a panic that I am one of those tragic people who thinks they are good at something and everyone around them knows that it's just not so. I cried a little bit last night and said to my dear husband, "I just want to be wonderful at something." To which he replied, "You are a wonderful wife." I guess that counts for something.