Confessions of a Struggling Actor

Don't worry, I'm not a friend of Dorothy, but man alive, that's the quiet time over it seems.  I'm feeling completely drained as I type this, as the past few days have see a whirlwind of activity and emotions.

Work, as I mentioned in my previous entry, is getting a bit mental.  The product is on sale, there's a massive promotional day coming up and they have given me new projects to handle.  At least I'm getting the chance to do my own thing for most of the time and the trips away looked fab - USA (including a few days in NY, the city I've wanted to visit the most), Qatar, possibly Barbados - and the work I'm doing suits my skills much more.  We had a team bonding session on Thursday night when we went out to a cocktail making class.  Needless to say, I knew most of the terms (alcoholic? me?) and ended up winning with one of my colleagues.  The atmosphere was pleasant, but as ever, through choice I'd not really call up my workmates for a jar of an evening.

Friday was when the personal cyclone started and its momentum rose throughout the weekend and start of this week.

I received a phone call from a director asking me if i would be interested in doing an unpaid play in Southwark that would impinge on my 9-5 wroking day and which started rehearsals the following week.  I had previously promised myself this time of rest and only a great offer or paid work would entice me back on stage before the year's end - so why would I consider this?  Well, Simon F had recommended me and the director is the stepson of a famous 60's model (the first waif?) and the grandson of the Greatest British Wartime Actor (though he's much more than that moniker - think Ice Cold in Alex...).  The contacts that I might make from this - allied to the fact that i play two differing roles and it's a 5 week run in a recognised (though not WE) theatre, so more enticing for the industry types I need to come along - could make a significant difference in my career...so I said that I would be interested to see what the project was.  He sent me a script and asked me to read it and get back to him.  As I'd used up all my holidays from work, I told my boss about the possibility of it changing some work plans, to which he (in a strangely good mood) said that it sounded exciting and that he'd support me in whatever i needed to do.  He's in Japan at the moment, so hasn't been around to change his mind on this.  I read the script, went for a few drinks after work and then went round to my mate Andy's to catch up after his trip to the Edinburgh fringe and to pick up some clips for my showreel.  And drink half a bottle or so of vodka.

Saturday, I awoke, not feeling hungover, but certainly tense as it dawned on me that this might be the important decision between work and career that I'd been dreading.  if rehearsals took a lot of time out of work, I might have to give up my steady (and not insignificant) income, which in turn could lead to me having to leave the flat at the end of the lease, as well as find a new job that gave me the flexibility and pay of this one and other ramifications that come with such a change in one's personal life.  I called J (the director) to say that I'd been intrigued by the script and that I'd like to meet him as soon as we could to discuss things further.  To try to stop my mind from racing, I started tidying my room and then put Radio Scotland on the internet to listen to the Scotland-France game.  This, unsurprisingly, did nothing to chill me out, but rather raised the blood pressure a few notches - man, I picked the worng week to give up smoking...

I was supposed to be going to a party that night, but made up an excuse as  wanted to continue re-reading the script, so I had a handle on it and could contribute to any meeting that might come up.  I didn't leave my flat all day and if it wasn't for plans on Sunday, the same might have happened.  J called back ansd we arranged a lunchtime meeting on Monday in Soho.  nerves a-jangling again...  Following this, I met Drew for a late lunch as he was soujourning in London en route back home.  We caught up on families and friend news, I told him of the work/career dilemma I was facing (and had blown out of all proportion in my head) and he recounted tales of Hampden.  We then journeyed south of the river to see mark, who had been slaving away on a translation for the previous few days.  We had a few pints and nips and debated about women ('waifs? a c cup is a waif...') and other weighty issues, when we realised that our voices were carrying enough for others to lug in.  We opened our views out to the floor, took some interesting points of view and, with time marching on and my meeting J the next day, I left Drew and Mark to a theological debate as to the merits of redheads.  Home with a warm glow (that'll be the Glenmorangie) and straight to sleep - with only half an hour tossing and turning, thinking about the next day.

I managed to get some work done on Monday morning, though it was of the don't-have-to-really-think variety, before the giant butterflies took over my stomach and I left for soho.  The place I'd arranged to meet J was closed for refurbishment - isn't that the way things go!! - so we wandered round to bar Italia and I had an espresso while J muched a sandwich and told me more about the play.  I was immediately heartened by his news that the reharsals would be flexible as other cast members had commitments too (phew!) and he went on to talk about the play with intelligence and a simmering passion to do it well.  I talked about the characters he wanted me to consider and asked a fwe qustions of my own and after a very enjoyable 30 mins or so we parted.  he told me that the producers had final say and they might want to meet me that night, which freaked me out no end.  My nerves were shot and I wouldn't have time to work on the script as i was heading straight back to the office til 6.  I was also due to see the Devil Wears Prada (stop sniggering...) with a couple of girls from work straight after so was sitting trying to do work, but mainly checking my mobile.  it got to 5pm, so I texted J to ask if I had to cancel plans and he said to go ahead with them and he'd speak soon.

Well I took that as a negative and so decided to forget it and went to the film.  It did the job by making me forget all about the play and Meryl Streep and Stanley Tucci in particular were very good - bit girly and lightweight for me.  After that, I had a call from Laura (catching up) and then Harry asking me to meet him for a drink at a new bar round the corner for him.  My brain needed a couple of pints, so I toddled up to Green Lanes to meet him.  Halfway thru my first pint, I noticed I had a voicemail.  J's voice came on and asked if I was in for the play.  Obviously thrilled I bought another beer immediately and called him back and left a message, followed by a chat with Simon thanking him profusely for putting me forward.  It really reinforces my belief that good people are out there in this business and you reap what you sow.  I need to find some way of repaying the favour to him as it could be a big deal.  After no fags, I finished the pack that night, almost in celebration.  I couldn't sleep as the adrenalin was surging around my body, but ended up getting sleepy after staring at the ceiling for an eternity.

It means that planned trips with GWR (including a wee one to Edinburgh where i was hoping to catch up with the Biz's and my other newer friends there) are off and that I might not be around as much as I'd like with (in order) my sister, Dave, the Hardies, Fogiels, Rance and Muzz all down over the next ten days or so, as well as Dougie heading down for the final weekend of my show.  Time will be made, but it might not be much as I have to make up hours off work at evenings and weekends.  I also have to get the admin wheels turning by choosing my photos tonight and ordering a computer and paying my equity and spotlight fees in the next couple of days, then getting my CV sorted and sending letters out to agents.  It means that I've had a project on the go for mearly the entire past 12 months.  If they can't be impressed how I've managed that AND do a 9-5 job they're all fucking wankers!

Right, off we go again...