Actors Are People Too: Sometimes

As I've been pretending to have any business being a published author, I've had the opportunity to reread and re-edit all of my earliest bitchings. I'll admit that I became embarrassingly emotional looking back at my first few weeks in New York City, remembering the wide-eyed hope with which I entered the audition room, feeling that I was just seconds away from being discovered. Where was that Queen these days, shorn of his blonde swoop bangs and invincible hope?

I decided it was time to go back to my roots. Pound the pavement in search of what I once knew. 

So when I walked into my first general E.P.A. in two years (Equity Principal Audition for you normals - that means going for the big roles), I was forced to do a double take. A triple take. A QUADRUPLE take. Not only was I transported back to being the boy in the blue hoodie, but they were all there. Like some f*cked up Wizard of Oz. Every single person I had written about from the first weeks of New York Life. Looking aloof. Sipping tea. And hugging. Oh my God, they're still hugging. 

There was the boy who got the role instead of me. My first New York audition, shafted by a kid from Harvard. Not only that, but one line over was the chatty Asian girl, her days as a cover in Spring Awakening almost a decade ago.

Then, there was the gay guy on my left from the West Side Story dance call.  He's had quite a successful career since I laughed at his leotard, so I guess the joke's on me. 

And then there was the guy with this ass that was like, "WHAT?" I've never written about him before, but it's so weird to be in a room where you can tell everybody is just looking at one person's butt like, "WHAT?" I mean, it was like what you imagine when somebody says, "Butt," and you're like, "Oh yeah. That's what a butt should look like." Well done, him. 

My point is, I began to think that I had fallen years behind my peers. They were out there being stars, and I was hunched over my keyboard trying to make the last three years sound interesting. 

Turns out, they're all still standing in line at 8 o'clock in the morning trying to pay bills in their dance shoes. 

And I was so happy to see them. 

Maybe I'll hug them next time. 

Just kidding don't touch me,

TJB: Making It

This is sh*t.

I'm sorry you miss me. I've been pretending I can eat dairy again, so things have been taking longer than they should. Though I vowed to cross it off my diet, I almost gave in today when the McDonald's cashier didn't understand what "black coffee" meant, and I couldn't find a way to explain that black means nothing without sounding racist. Since it was only a dollar, I just pretended I had a friend and ordered a second one "no milk, no sugar". I even got it in a different size. I was very convincing.

Despite my continued panic in the simplest of situations, I have had quite a productive week. Productive, not rewarding. I submitted my writing materials to CBS, but in a last-minute self-sabotage, I pulled my original pilot, inserted a story about a boy I don't even like, and wrote a cover letter about how I'm pretty. Like, really pretty. If that doesn't scream diversity amongst the hordes of hideous television writers, I don't know what will. This is a situation where black means everything. Or even just gay means something. I hope I remembered to say I'm gay. I'm sure there was an elusive reference somewhere in the second paragraph, right after the anatomy of cheekbones.

Or maybe it just goes without saying.

Being a writer is harder than being an actor. When you have a bad audition, it can be forgotten. When you write something bad, you have it saved in three different file formats and backed up on a flash drive. And the rejections will stay in your Gmail archives forever. Data permanence, you know?

Now I have two iced coffees, one laced with enough milk to keep me within 6 feet of a bathroom for days, and one reminding me that I have very little chance of getting into a diversity program for writers.

I think I'll go back to Diet Coke for a few weeks.

You know what? Fuck it. I'm drinking both of these bitches.

On to NBC and IBS,

TJB: Making It