It are my birthday...

It's true. Sadly, I have to spend part of it working, which is always a pain, especially on a Saturday. Then, because we are terribly broke, we are going to Dairy Queen and possibly having drunken karaoke in the safety of our living room.

Is that sad? I've never been one to make a huge deal of birthdays, largely because I live with the fear of no one showing up to my party. I actually kind of wish I'd made a bigger deal of it this year, but instead I'm just going to chill and have my yearly Blizzard. And buy a lottery ticket, as per tradition. And if the postal strike is ever over, I'll get some birthday money in the mail (yes, even at my decrepit old age, I still get birthday cheques from my parents) and treat myself to something fun.

Happy my birthday, everyone!

Huh?

Hello, friends.
It's the first day of summer! And our basement is flooded. Well, today it's actually only mildly flooded, yesterday was the real action. It'd been raining here since Thursday, which is pretty unusual for my prairie town, and combined with an old house... rubber boots time! We spent yesterday taking turns doing the shopvac/sweeping water down the drain routine.

Blech!

And then the saga of the "film director" continued. Have I not mentioned him? He's some young fella who wants to make movies. He's apparently making a movie, and had asked me to be in it this summer. Now, this isn't my first experience with this guy-- way back last fall he'd asked me to be in an independent he wanted to shoot over the winter, which fell through for some reason. And I've never worked with him, but according to one of my friends, he's very nice and organized and talented.

So when he offered me a one-scene neat little featured role in his independent? Sure! No money, but experience, a credit for my resume, and a chance to practice on-camera.

Easy, right?

Er... no. He'd asked me to send him a picture of me in wardrobe, and I'd emailed him to say that because of the play reading, would it be okay to get that to him this weekend? And then he replied no, and he was worried that my play reading would leave me unable to focus on his movie, and he only liked to hire actors without any other projects on the go, because he didn't want their creative focus split. And he wasn't sure that my schedule was going to work anyway, and maybe he should look at other actors, and he'd let me know.

Huh?

OK, (a) it's one scene. One day of shooting. I'm pretty sure I can maintain focus with my tiny actor's brain. (b) Do you really mean you want people who don't have anything creative on the go at all? Yikes! And (c) You're not paying me. So this kind of lessens your ability to dictate how I spend the rest of my time.

So I emailed him back and said actually my play reading was already done, and yes, I did have a job, but I was available for the dates we'd probably be shooting, but if he wanted to recast, then best of luck.

Then I get an email back saying "Oh my god, this is working out great, I can't wait to work with you, I'm so glad your play reading is done, blah blah blah!"

Okay.

Now, my scene would likely be shot on a Sunday, because that's when we had access to the location. He'd mentioned that he wanted my character to be sort of background in some other scenes if possible, and that he'd let me know when they were shooting those. So yesterday I realized I wasn't available one Saturday in July, due to a work thing. So I emailed him to say, oh, this one Saturday I wouldn't be available until later in the day.

SATURDAY. Not SUNDAY.

I get an email back saying "Oh, that won't work, we can only shoot in the location on Sunday, so best of luck and maybe another project will come up in the future."

Huh?

Time to walk away on this one. Good luck with the movie, have a great summer, goodbye. I'm going to split my creative focus by doing some rewrites and maybe starting a new play this summer.

Well, time to bail out the basement again!
Happy first day of summer!

Free Time!

Yes, after doing a quick shoot for an industrial this morning, I am completely stunned to realize that I have FREE TIME! I have nothing to do for the rest of the weekend, except do groceries and bill paying, and I think that can be safely put off until tomorrow. It's sort of a shame that it's been pouring rain here for two days, but it's probably for the best, since it will prevent me from going shopping and spending money I don't have.

So, the reading-- went really well! It was kind of a long week, there were three nights of play readings, two plays each night. The way it worked out, there was one short-ish (say 80-90 minutes) play each night, and one EXTREMELY LONG play each night. I'm talking 2, 2 and a half hours here, people! Mine was the first play of the last night. Rehearsal was fun, we had a lot of laughs, and I was relieved to hear that the complete overhaul I'd done worked. Not perfect, but I think I am back on the right track with this one.

I've been informed by the playwright unit facilitators that I have done so well, that I'm almost done the play-- now I graduate from doing major rewrites into detailed editing work.

The reading was well-received, and I was pleased to receive a surprise paycheque from the theatre in question, which has given a bit of a boost to my withering bank account.

And with that and my little video done... I have nothing to do. Sure, I have rewrites and fixes to do on the script, but that can wait. I even got a great deal on airfare to my brother's wedding yesterday. And had a breakthrough with my new voice coach yesterday.

So what to do, what to do? New sewing project? New play? Binge on terrible television? Mystery Science Theatre marathon?

I would cook something indulgent, but the oven's still broken.

I think I'm just going to spend the weekend lounging around drinking tea and being lazy.

That sounds like a plan.

This week

This is the busiest week I've had in a long time:
Monday: work 930-530, attend play readings 6-11pm
Tuesday: work 930-530, attend play readings 6-11pm
Wednesday: attend rehearsal 10-5, play reading (my play) 6-8, attend play reading 830-11
Thursday: work 10-530, meeting friends for drinks
Friday: voice coaching 11-12, work 130-830
Saturday: shooting for industrial video 12-3

I'm feeling a bit better about my play, after talking to the director and a couple of other people about it. I suppose I can recognize that I don't exactly have perspective on the project, and that I will obviously feel sort of distanced and strange about the work, since it's changed radically from the original concept. And of course that I might be projecting some of my own issues into imagining things that are wrong with the play.

I've also been getting work/possible gigs thrown at me-- upcoming this week a quick shoot for an industrial video (4 pages of dialogue), and a couple of scenes in an independent film shooting here this summer. Plus it seems like I may be writing a play with the person directing my reading, and obvs there will be a role in it for me. And I still think about somehow, someday, doing a cabaret.

I think I'm going to join the Y, once this crazy week is done. I'm finally down another pound, but it's wayyyy too slow, especially considering how well I eat. I think I may need to tone up some muscles to get my metabolism going a bit. I do feel like part of the reason I don't work that much is because of my weight. And I think I need to once and for all treat getting in better physical shape like it's my job. Because it's only going to benefit me health wise, career wise, and happiness wise. And no, I don't think that all life's problems are solved by getting thin. But I do think I'll be in a better position to move forward feeling good about myself.

Wish me luck and energy this week!

Today

So after much pathetic whining and gnashing of teeth last night, I am feeling slightly better today. Except for my tendency to burst into tears at the slightest provocation, which I suspect may be hormonal rather than related to actual events.
For example:
Seeing a baby bird (well, teenage bird) hanging out with its mom, learning to be a bird-- instant waterworks.

At my voice coaching, saying "I have a lot of tension" and being reassured-- Niagara falls.

Thought of coming in to work and sitting here well into the evening-- well, no crying there, just feelings of ugh and bleah.

Though I am still feeling just a little bit defeated. I need to figure out some things I can work on and people I can work with who are encouraging and supportive and who do the kind of work I want to do. I figure I won't quit just yet-- if it means this much to me that I get so worked up to it, perhaps I do belong here. I just need to shift perspective a little bit.

Or something to that effect.

Ouch. (Whining ahead).

Today has been kind of a disappointing day. I mean, it was kind of a bleah day with some annoying things (work computer getting fried by a virus I have no idea how I got, but can't help but feel guilty about, since it was, after all, my computer), but tonight it became truly disappointing.

Ye olde big time auditions? I was joking with my audition buddy about expecting a fuck-you email, when I suddenly realized I was going to get one. Because my friend (who I am very happy for) said "Oh... I actually got a callback last Friday." And of course, I didn't get a callback, which is more disappointing than I thought it would be, like ridiculously, disproportionately disappointing, the big sloppy tears welling up kind of disappointing. Not really because of this specifically, more that I get really, really tired of feeling like this.

Like what? I don't really know-- I guess kind of left out. Like-- okay, there's this girl in the theatre community, well, sort of adjacent to the theatre community, who fancies herself to be a brilliant performer. Only... well, she's not. She's rather dreadful. But she has the confidence of an internationally recognized genius, like one of those people in American Idol auditions who are so awful, but can't believe they're getting negative feedback. But I feel like I'm her or something. Going around saying "hey, if you need an actor...", and of course no one will ever need an actor that badly. And I just feel like everyone must think I'm some kind of idiot to be going around deluding myself like that, and people must be thinking "When will she just give up?" Because it's been increasingly rare that I get asked to do things, I get tired of putting myself out there again and again. I'm tired of feeling like an outsider here.

To top it off, not looking forward to ye olde play reading next week either. For a variety of reasons I won't get into here.

I know, this is disappointment-adjacent craziness. By tomorrow I'm sure I'll have a plan to "show em all with a great show!" or something. But tonight this sucks. Seriously.

I wish I was not a grown-up who needs money and could call in sick to work tomorrow and just wallow. Instead I have about 4 separate places to be at, including work and a voice coaching.

So is this the time on sprockets when we suck it up?

Using What You've Got...

I have a thing for kitchen gadgets. Tools, toys, appliances. I love them. In fact, I kind of have a thing for stuff--hence my love of vintage shopping, garage sales, and the like.

But it occurred to me that I have a lot of stuff that I hardly ever use. And some of it, like cookbooks, is just because I haven't really been feeling the spirit move me. That, and being so broke-- no cash for fancy ingredients means no fancy new recipes.

But isn't being broke a great time to use the stuff I already have? Which is why I've resolved to use the following two kitchen toys next week: my pasta maker and my cookie press. The pasta maker I've used before, the press I'm ashamed to say I never have. It's been sitting in its box since Christmas of LAST YEAR, people! That just ain't right.

I'm going to start challenging myself to use the things I've already got, rather than wishing I had other things, or, dare I say, was other things.

The most rewarding part was when they gave me the money...

Yes friends, it's true: I have finally, finally received my cheque for those commercials I shot all those many moons ago (actually, in March, so only a couple of moons ago, but that's a long time when you're waiting for a chunk of change)! Not only did I beat the postal strike, I am now a real, live, professional actress. Who will be on tv, no less (that's what well-meaning friends and relatives always seem to hold as a measure of true success--"When are we going to see you on the teevee?")

You know, the other day at that audition, as I was coming out, I ran into a certain local wunderkind who's often a bit of a d-bag, because I think he believes that he should behave eccentrically, and that artists should be indulged because, of course, how would anyone create art sans indulgence? But anyway, he was signing in as I was leaving the audition room, and he was quite surprised to see me there. He immediately asked "Oh, are you here with J?" referring of course to my husband who is himself a pretty successful professional actor here in town. And making the assumption that I just follow J around, holding his coat and keeping my fingers crossed for him outside his auditions, or volunteer my time to turn the pages for the accompanist in support of J's career, or I don't know, some other crazed idea.

I did solemnly inform him that no, J wasn't here, and that it was just me doing an audition. And in the back of my mind I got a little mad that "he doesn't think of me as an actor! Why doesn't anyone think of me as an actor?" But then I realized that the person who has a hard time accepting calling me an actor is... well, me.

That sounds cheesy. Like, if my life were an episode of 90210 (old-school, thank you), it's the kind of realization I'd come to in the last 5 minutes of the episode. With help from Andrea or Kelly or Dylan, who would have given me a strong talking to, or thrown me a surprise party, or come to bail me out at the police station. But I digress. It's true, I have a hard time feeling like I "deserve" that title of actor. But why shouldn't I? I trained for it. I'm good at it. Occasionally I get asked by others to do it. And occasionally, like today, I get paid for it.

So why is it so hard to claim that "special" title? Maybe I need to worry less about what others think of me, and work a little harder on how I think about myself.

That's clearly something Dylan would have said. Right?

At a bit of a loss...

Remember when I was so freaked out about finishing the rewrite of the play I wasn't sure if I liked, but is having a reading next month? Well, I finished the rewrite, extra early (like, at least a week and a half ago) because I felt pressured to give the director a script (because the rewrite was rather drastically changed from the previous draft), and I haven't looked at it since.

I haven't heard from the director, either, despite some email prodding, but that's another story. The reading is in two weeks, and it's more of a workshop-y thing for an invited audience, rather than any kind of performance. I'll probably go through it again to do a bit of a clean-up edit, but I feel like there's not much further I can go with this until I hear it out loud.

But then I got all caught up in preparing for/fretting over THE AUDITION, which is now mercifully over.

And so I'm at a bit of a loss as to what to do with myself. It makes me want to start a new project. I always get these big ideas to start self-improvement projects, or writing projects, or musical projects, or whatever else springs into my head at the time.

Free time is never something I live easily with. I do have a stack of books I've been reading waiting to be finished, and some sewing and knitting projects waiting to be started. But I think I just love the thrill, the excitement of the new. I'm a little bit addicted to potential. This could be why I have trouble finishing things. Or sometimes, even starting things. It's when potential is in danger of becoming result that I get a little skittish.

It's not that I don't accomplish things, or finish projects. I do. Just sometimes I need to remind myself to follow through.

In other news, that cheque for the commercial is finally on its way, apparently. To balance this out, the postal workers may be going on strike in the next few days. And that's not the only thing I'm expecting in the mail-- the other day I happened to be checking out my credit card statement online, and noticed some weird charges-- cabs in Vancouver, sandwiches in Kamloops-- both cities that are quite a ways a way from this prairie town. So I called, and while the first guy I spoke with clearly suspected me of trying to defraud Mastercard to score some free BC sandwiches, the girl in the fraud department told me that yes, there were some other charges, but all would be taken off. And they're sending me a brand new card. In the mail.

At the moment, I'm kind of loving this website. I foresee myself visiting it on my internet breaks at work.

The Audition!

Is done! The last 40 minutes before I went up to the room, I was sitting in an adjacent office building musing about the nature of time, and how it was just steadily creeping forward to 10:20, the HOUR OF DOOM, and although I wished I had more time, I also wished it was already over, because I couldn't stand being nervous about it any more.

Once I got up to the waiting area, the nervousness started to dissipate. I tried to listen in a little on what was happening in the room with the person going before me... and got a couple of little clues about what I might be asked to do. Sneaky, I know. And I asked the girl signing us in how many people were in the room, which gave me a good guess as to who might be there.

The interview was first, then my monologues, then my song. The song wasn't brilliant, but it went much better than I thought-- that old instinct to just suck it up and perform must have kicked in. And they seemed pretty happy with my monologues. I may have even gotten a kind of drumming on the table "applause" from one member of the panel. And I got told that my work was "excellent", which I'm just going to assume is something they don't just say.

I think I kind of sucked at the interview, though. But to me, expecting anyone to do the interview portion before they do their pieces is expecting some kind of superhuman composure. Of course, I could be wrong. Maybe I'm just woefully undercomposed.

Now the waiting game begins again. Of course, since they're seeing a couple hundred people in 3 different cities, my chances of being accepted are somewhat slim.

Tonight I'm going to a show, and perhaps even a couple of drinks. And this weekend, I'm rewarding myself by reading the new Sweet Valley book, which arrived at the library just in time.

The Day Before...

Just a quick post. I had another voice coaching this morning, which went great-- hopefully I can remember all the things I should do tomorrow morning. And at one point, he said something that really hit me, in regards to my song, but also in regards to, well, everything I'm doing.

"How much right do you have to speak here?"

Well, obviously, my character has every right to speak here, it's her song, it's her moment. And he said "Just remember, a lot of people go into the room worrying they're wasting the auditioners' time, but you have every right to speak, to have your moment. In fact, I give you permission."

Which was somehow quite moving.

I'm nervous.

Wish me luck tomorrow, 10:20am MST.

I'm Sick Of The Waiting Game... Let's Play Hungry Hungry Hippos.

So it wasn't enough to be refreshing my email over and over on deadline day, waiting to see if I'd been called in. Now I'm refreshing my email over and over in the hopes that my scheduled audition time will arrive.

The auditions are on Thursday. I am working Thursday. Which isn't a problem, as I have a very flexible arts-adjacent job where they recognize that while I'm very good at what they employ me to do, I certainly don't want to be doing it for the rest of my life.

But I really don't want to come to work on Thursday and have to watch the clock count down to my audition time and fret about how it's going to go all day. I'd much rather go in the morning, so it can be done and I can head straight to work and then out for several drinks at the end of the day. Of course, this means singing first thing in the morning. And being one of the first people they see, which I'm never sure how that goes-- will I set the standard for the day, or be entirely forgotten by day's end. They're also auditioning in two more cities, increasing my chances of being forgotten. I can only hope that they will be seeing me when they're still bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and don't have the mid-afternoon naps, or gut rot from drinking coffee all day.

In the meantime, I've been dutifully preparing like a good little actor. I've been to visit an accompanist/voice coach, and I'm seeing him again tomorrow for a final tune-up. Monlogues are memorized and objective-d (objectified? object-lessoned?)I'm doing a sweet contemporary monologue, an intense Shakespeare, and a funny song. I feel like it shows a good range of what I can do. I am a little eek about perhaps I should be doing a funny Shakespeare, since the show is a Shakespeare comedy, but frankly, there isn't that much choice for the ladies in Shakespeare monos. I thought about busting out Viola's ring speech again, but decided against it. The AD has seen me do that one (not that he'd remember it), and I feel like I should be doing something different than the 20 year olds. I think my current choice (from Titus) will show I can handle my text.

Then there's the interview. Of course there will be an interview. I'm not sure if I'm more nervous about performing or about doing the interview.

I'm going to be so happy when Thursday afternoon rolls around, and all I have to worry about is a play reading. (Which the director, a local AD, has not spoken a word to me about, though I'm sure he's read the script. Does he hate it? Does he regret saying yes? Should I just ignore these feelings of insecurity?)

Send good vibes to me on Thursday, please!

I got called in for an audition.

For ye old Professional Development Program at the Big-Time Theat-ah.

It's sometime next Thursday.

I have to sing.

I may barf.

Eek!

Our Oven Is Broken.

Sigh. Bye bye, baked potatoes and lasagna! Auf wiedersehn, cookies! Arrivederci, strawberry rhubarb pies!

This morning we were making breakfast, and turned on the oven to brown up some potatoes, and there was this weird ZZZZZZT! sound, and now the oven doesn't work.

Could it be a fuse? Do ovens still have fuses?

We are going to have to do SO much cleaning if someone is coming over to fix the oven.

Friday the 13th

Well, tonight's the night we finally watch the last Friday 13 that Netflix (Canadian Netflix, at least) has to offer--Part VIII-- Jason Takes Manhattan.

(Every time I see this title I think: "First he takes Manhattan-- THEN HE TAKES BERLIN!")

Mysteriously, Canadian Netflix has Friday 13th 1 through 8, with the exception of part 5. Why, Netflix? Fortunately, I was able to catch up between parts 4 and 6.

I'm beginning to wonder if my singing teacher and I aren't a good fit for each other, communications-style-wise. I had another frustrating lesson on Tuesday. I don't know what to do. I think what I really want is concrete suggestions on things I can do, not a lecture about how my past life is affecting my singing in this life, or stuff about cellular memory or my aura. I don't think it has to be quite so magical or mystical. Of course, maybe I'm wrong. All I know is that it isn't working for me, and I can't tell if he's just dealing with something in his personal life that's coming through into the studio, or if I'm being unreasonable, or what.

I'm just not into pathologizing everything any more, you know?

ETA: Friday the 13th Part 8 is pretty much terrible. It's like 4 separate horrible, horrible movies crammed into one movie that never seems to end. Like, it's not even BAD good, it's just boring.

Taking A Step...

So here's the thing-- I'm thinking about auditioning for the Big Time Theatah's Professional Program, despite feeling rather ancient and incompetent. Because (a) they had several folks in their thirties (and even one pretty damn close to his forties) this year. And (b)I'll never know if I don't try.

It's one of those gigs where you apply to audition and then they let you know if they're interested in auditioning you a fairly short time before the actual auditions. Which are about a month away.

I would have to sing. A "short song" it says, and I suspect more to determine if I have any musical ability, and whether I am pleasant or awful to listen to.

But still, I would have to sing.

And let's not forget the acting-- I mean yes, I've obviously auditioned for things before, but there's something daunting about auditioning for what could be a whole table of people I know, and who have a pre-existing notion of me and my abilities. And it's scary.

Here's my thought process:

"Self, I think we should audition. Nothing ventured, nothing gained!"

"But I'm SCARED! What if I suck? What if they openly mock me? What if I have to see them at future events knowing that they know I'm a huge, untalented fraud?"

"Well, it's not like the world will end. You'll be what they're looking for or not. It's simple! It's 10 minutes out of your life!"

"But what if I don't suck and I get in and I have to go spend 12 weeks with a bunch of strangers, all the time worrying that I'm a huge, untalented fraud?"

"Sigh. Self, you're impossible."

Annnnd scene. I'm not sure if I'm afraid of failing or succeeding. Or both. But it might be a nice way to shake up the status quo and actually take some of the risks I keep wishing I would.

Of course, it's entirely possible that they won't want to see me at all, and this whole anxiety tornado will have been for naught. But I think I'll feel better for at least trying. It's cheesy, but somehow true.

Above the Belt and Come Forth, Motivation Unicorns!

So.
Still not tackling that rewrite-- I'm saving that for MAY, which is rapidly becoming some mysterious and magical time period when I will suddenly feel motivated to do a major overhaul of the play. I'm assuming the motivation unicorns (or whatever mythical creatures control motivation) will find me before next Sunday. Hey, they know where I live.

I realized that in this business, there is pretty much no way anyone could treat you so badly that your friends would not accept a job from said person. Money will always win out. And I can't say I blame them.

My agent almost gave me a heart attack yesterday-- once again I was following up about getting cash money for those commercials, and she said "Oh, you know, I never heard back from her. And her website is disabled. Do you know how to get in touch with her?"

Okay. There are a couple of issues with that communication. Firstly, was she ever planning on telling me she couldn't get in touch? Secondly, I was able to get in touch through the phone number I'd given my agent THREE TIMES. In fact, it was pretty easy to get in touch and follow up.
So I'm not getting ripped off (I think), the cheque (the most important thing) is in the mail.

Also: singing breakthrough! I can belt! (My old singing teacher would be horrified at the thought of me (or anyone) using the "vulgar" chest voice for anything, so if she's reading this, I'd like to assure her that I'm using a good, healthy mix). Apparently all my work on the upper register is paying off in the lower register. And it seems like some of the psychological turmoil has been resolved, to be replaced by Things I Can Work On Through Technique.

This is good news, people.

Very good news, indeed.

Another Day, Another Day Job

Last week I met someone who, at the ripe old age of 25, has never had a day job. He's an actor and writer-- I know he works a fair bit, but I never thought he worked that much. So it's possible that he lives in a cardboard box down by the railroad tracks, or with his parents, or breaks into apartments to take showers, or hasn't eaten anything but ramen noodles for the last four years.

But I digress. Of course I feel a tinge of envy for those who don't have to work, but I wonder too how much life experience they might be missing out on by only hanging out with theatre types.

I've never waited tables, but I have had some pretty stellar day jobs:
* video store clerk
* call centre agent
* case manager for employment services company
* payroll clerk
* photocopy jockey
* impersonated various secretaries
* data entry operator
* customer service clerk

That's off the top of my head. And I suppose it probably seems like I'm either really old, or I'm constantly getting fired. I actually just get bored really easily. And really, most of my jobs seem to use either (a) my excellent typing skills, or (b) my ability to simulate the impression that I really, really care. That's me, transcriptionbot/sounding board for the disgruntled.

So have I been wasting my creative energies trying to pay rent? Or is this all rich, rich fodder for the acting/writing mill?

Behold, I Have Returned, or First Draft Blues

Howdy, friends and neighbours!

I was hoping to keep you up to date on my progress through the second session of the Big Time Theat-ah Play Development Unit. But my plans were thwarted by said unit, as we spent roughly 8 hours a day discussing our plays, and then I went home every night to desperately try and do some rewrites.

It was intense. I had fun, but I'm glad it's over. I'm not so glad to return to my "real life" job dealing with customers and staff, but I suppose that's a reason to work that much harder, right? So I can exit the world of service into the world of the artiste.

Or something like that.

So. My play. Well, it started out as a solo, then morphed into a two-hander with one speaking actor, one silent actor. Two monologues, one after the other. After this latest reading the general feeling of the rest of the unitards seems to be that this would do much better as a standard two-hander. I realize that's hard to envision without knowing the play, but the overall note was "does your form serve the idea of the play?" and the resounding answer is "no".

I don't know how to feel about that. I don't know if I'm reluctant to let go of my oh-so-clever initial idea. Or if I really wanted to write a solo, and I've somehow failed in that. I mean, I really do want to write a solo, largely so I can have something to perform myself (we won't get into my current acting insecurities). It just might not be this play.

So that's disappointing, in a weird way. I haven't looked at it since we finished a couple of days ago. I know what the rewrite will look like, I'm pretty confident that I can give myself some breathing room before returning to it before the public readings in June.

In other news: I am somewhat annoyed with my agent. I'm not sure if she's just not that interested in me (I know she is extremely interested in the more commercial pretty blonde friend of mine who's also signed with her), or if there's just no film work here (which there isn't), but I rarely hear from her. It's a little tough to get a hold of her sometimes, as evidenced when I booked those commercials last month and tried to get her to negotiate the rate, because, isn't that what she does? And that means yes, she does get paid for work she wasn't involved in getting me. But she definitely got me a better rate than I would have gotten myself.

The problem is getting paid. She was supposed to invoice this woman, and after an appropriate amount of time had gone by, I contacted her to say "Hey, any word on that cheque from Employer X? I sure could use the money." And her response was "Oh, I never heard from her, I guess I could email her to invoice her, what's her contact information?" And then I gave that to her. And now I'm chasing her down again.

Not good, I know. I probably need to switch to someone else. And a friend of mine had some rather interesting problems with a writing agent that he never officially severed his relationship with, so lesson learned, I need to be assertive in this situation.

And I've been away from voice lessons for a month due to scheduling, so looking forward to getting back on Tuesday.

And that's the news.
What's new with you?

Sent

I sent in my (mostly) completed script tonight-- there are a couple of small bits in the middle that are missing. Hopefully those will get written before my reading on Monday, but I'm not going to be heartbroken if I can't figure them out.
There is a beginning. A middle. And an end.

It's a play! A weird, weird, play!