There are really great tools for actors that allow them to get in front of agents and casting directors with just the click of a button.For a small fee, of course. Still, that's a price one must pay when fighting your way through stacks of retouched 8x10s and revamped resumes.
Let's face it. The market is competitive, and not just for actors. When you're reaping 10% commission from only 10% of your roster and every discerning gay could cast a show, why not spend your nights giving hope to the hams of Manhattan?
With my first few weeks leaving me feeling forgotten, I decided it was time to open my wallet and pull some pork.
Within five minutes of sitting down in a room stuffed with hopefuls, I had already thrown in the towel twice and thrown up in my mouth thrice. One girl was recording everything with a tiny mic hidden in her bra. She was concerned about its visibility, but her friend was only concerned that everyone knew she had been invited to attend this seminar by the agent the night before, at a masterclass he had taught.
When I can invite people to spend money to meet me again, I'll know I've made it.
So there was a Q&A and the handsome agent managed to make everyone in the room want nothing more than to have his hands on their headshot. This pack of pigs was cackling on cue and reaching for recognition.
I managed to not click my pen more than twice. Why I was holding a pen was beyond me since there was no paper. I thought perhaps some pearl of wisdom would appear and I would just scribble it on my forearm.
After the Q&A, I only had to wait an hour to sing. I spent most of that hour listening to one girl explain how she looks FAR younger than she is (she doesn't) and was having the hardest time finding the right heels (but chose wedges), given her calves are so fit from being a trainer and her heels are so sore form all the pilates. She wasn't sure which selection to sing, and spoke aloud as she attempted to find the perfect contrast of 16-bar cuts. She ended up singing what sounded like two full songs.
The rest of the room spent their time panicking that they would be cut off before they reached their 32nd bar and if they would catch the train back to Hartford.
I tried to remain calm. This was the first time since moving back to NYC that I felt I was in a race again and my rose colored glasses were quickly turning to jade. I looked down at my Northwestern University binder (maybe it's time to change that) and reminded myself that I had everything I needed to make this happen.
And then, I sang. I sang the song I knew would impress and I gave it everything I had. I wasn't nervous, I wasn't doubtful, I was only me.
Agent: "Good. Do you WANT to sing something contrasting?"
Not since college had I been asked to be contrasting. I WANTED to eat a burger. I hadn't eaten anything in 12 hours. At that moment, everything inside of me crumbled as I sang a second song.
Agent: "I think I've heard that song before."
Me: "Oh, I'm sure you've heard it a million times."
I then managed to word vomit a list of every Broadway performer who had sung the song as if he was giving me a test of its legitimacy.
Agent: "...somebody recorded it."
This time, I only answered with one name and quietly said "thank you" as if I had passed.
I left the building with the new realization that I had fully hit reset. I was just thankful I looked far younger than I actually am and made a pledge to do more pilates.
That burger tasted AMAZING,
TJB: Making It
