RAPUNZEL, RAPUNZEL, CUT YOUR HAIR!!

Psst. Over here. I kind of wanted to keep quiet about this. They say that baseball fans are extremely superstitious. Well, if that’s true, than actors aren’t far behind. Every actor knows, when you feel like you’ve figured something out, unlocked the answer to some actor riddle, and it’s working, may lightning strike you down if you talk about it too much. If you do, you might jinx it. Nay, you WILL jinx it!! JINX! Okay, now that I’ve said that out loud, I believe that having done so, naturally, releases any superstitious negative outcome. Like when I’m on a flight and I start imagining the plane crashing, I then believe, of course, that since I’ve already played it out in my mind then, obviously, it won’t happen! That totally makes sense. Totally.

If you are of the human persuasion and an actor who auditions for commercials, then read on.

In a surprising and exciting turn of events I booked 6 national commercials in 7 months (2 for Time Warner Cable, 2 for Td Ameritrade, Dodge, and Southwest Airlines). It was actually 6 in 6 months, but I changed it to 7 because the double 6’s freaked me out when I saw them so close together. Eek. Now, maybe I magically and spontaneously became a better actress or more “real” “subtle” and “natural” in my auditions, but between you and me, I am pretty effing sure it’s because I cut my damn hair.

I have been blessed with having the same wonderful commercial agent for 6 years, Pam Sparks at Sutton, Barth & Vennari (as well as their recent fantastic addition, Rachele Fink). Over this time, I had many auditions and very, very, I mean very few jobs. My numbers really sucked. Bad. Yeah, I did get some callbacks, and some avails here and there. I booked a few small gigs that I either got cut out of or that didn’t run. Needless to say, I was waiting, ever so patiently, for my lovely agent to drop my ass.

Occasionally they would call me into the office to “discuss” why I wasn’t booking and I would inevitably get simultaneously awkwardly defensive and awkwardly apologetic. We always ended these discussions with a renewed (ahem, repeated) sit back and wait for “my time” attitude. Which is, frankly, often the case. Any good commercial agent, in my opinion, knows that it can take years, and literally hundreds and hundreds of commercial auditions, for that ever-elusive “click” to finally happen. It’s like dating. Sometimes you have to kiss a hell of a lot of frogs before that frog turns into a national commercial.

But I had hit the wall. I was carrying far too much tension at my auditions, and even more at my callbacks. I couldn’t stop that desperate energy from sifting out from my pores and bouncing off the walls. And I was so tired of seeing the commercials that I didn’t get mocking me during my favorite TV shows. I was even more tired of seeing them go to girl-with-short-wavy-bob. I became obsessed. For the non-actor, this seems crazy (and, um, it is.) I mean, really. It’s. Just. Hair. But for us, changing our look is a big deal. It means money, new headshots…it’s a commitment. And what if it doesn’t work? Then you have to wait for it to grow back and of course think of all the things you’ll be missing when it’s in the inbetween phase!! (Oh the neurosis.) You’ve convinced yourself that you’ve lost your “big break” job while you were growing out your bangs!

But this is what I’ve learned: when you’re not working as much as you think you should, then get out of your comfort zone and try something new. For me it was becoming the girl-with-short-wavy-bob. For you it could be something else entirely. But no matter what it is, the answer is right there in that little square rabbit-eared box. Oh god, I just aged myself..um..I mean, that 42 inch plasma screen box. I started looking and learning from commercials in a new way. I began dressing exactly the way they did. I studied the trends. Hair, make up, colors. This takes some self-reflection and honesty. Are you being realistic about your age range? Do you have a clear idea of your basic type? Also, simple things too like hair color. Is it dull on camera? Needs some highlights? Or is it dead from too many highlights? Do you even know? For men, is there a facial hair trend going on? And for those that can’t grow any, then how else does that look play out? There isn’t any one answer, but there are many practical things that you can do that may just help your chances in a very competitive industry.

This doesn’t have to be about a giant makeover or a huge overhaul. I asked one of my agents at SBV, Rachele Fink, to weigh in on the subject and she had this to say: “Commercials set the trends and hair is a major trend that young girls and women look for in commercials whether they actually think about it or not. One time I asked a girl if she would cut her hair, even just style it, and she said no, and I said this isn’t the agency for you because you won’t book with the same style from the 90′s. Actors have to be current and willing to set, and be able to change with the trends of our society.”

In my experience if you want to book commercials, you’ve got to conform, conform, conform. A tough pill to swallow? I know.

I get it. Two awesome lefty artist types in the East Village of New York City raised me, so the idea of conforming to the norm was totally against my grain. But in this case, the norm was working and I wasn’t. I had spent my whole life trying to be different, to be un-labelable. You know, Me! What I ultimately realized was that “me” is what books the job, and looking “right” for it just makes it easier for them to do it. Ultimately, your personality, your essence, your vibe is what people want to see and hire. But the commercial world also needs you to meet it halfway.

Jill Alexander, a friend and talented actress, has worked on over 50 National Commercials. She also teaches a fantastic commercial workshop, which I highly recommend, by the way (www.jillforpromqueen.com). This is what she said on the matter: “I think you have to be a real person in order to be successful in commercials. Which means wearing your hair in a way that makes you feel confident and attractive, and not in a way that makes someone else look confident and attractive. I do not believe that there is any rule of thumb. A smart haircut will help you in all aspects of your life.” I can’t speak for how that new haircut will go over at home, but feeling confident and contemporary will never hurt you at your auditions!

I bumped into an accomplished commercial casting director recently at Trader Joe’s. This particular office hadn’t called me in a really long time so I fumblingly saddled up to her in the cheese section and said hello. When she asked how I was doing, trust me, I was thrilled to finally be able to blurt out, “Great! I booked some stuff recently, and….well, I cut my hair. What do you think?”

And she quickly responded, while fingering through the Brie, “Ah, commercials…it is all about the hair….”

Shit. I hope I didn’t just jinx myself…

You can see Sunah & her wavy bob in action here and here.

Photo by Maya Adrabi

She spent 10 years as an award-winning TV copywriter crafting ads for brands like Wheaties^®, Gatorade^® and Jell-O^®, and another 10 acting in them for cash money. Since deciding she’d blow her brains out if she had to sit through one more meeting about which way the bears danced around the cereal box, Colleen spends most of her time teaching other creative souls how to talk about what they do in a way that wins them attention, work and satisfaction and the rest of it horsing around on the Internet.

This article is re-printed from her Colleen’s wonderful blog with her permission.

This is Day 15 of a 21-day effort to see the good in what might, at first, look like an irredeemable drag. Its name comes from a classic bit of dialogue uttered by actor Kevin Bacon in a classic film of my generation, Animal House.

I did not start out here in Hollywood as a hot commodity. To do that without being well-connected you have to be:

1. exceptionally young
2. exceptionally beautiful
3. exceptionally weird looking
4. exceptionally funny

Some people might argue that “exceptionally talented” should be on that list. I, on the other hand, would argue that everyone thinks he’s exceptionally talented, so what’s the point? There’s one Meryl Streep; there’s a million people like you…getting off the bus…every day.

But I digress.

I was none of those things. But even though I was 33 when I got my start, I was fairly funny and in target range looks-wise for a gigantic commercial type (i.e., “Young Mom,” 24-34). And I was connected, thanks to the Groundlings Sunday Company and my old career as an adhole, so between the resume at Groundlings and a casting director I’d worked with many times on Gatorade, I got a commercial agent.

I even booked a spot. A horrible test-market spot that went nowhere, but still, a booking. My agent seemed pleased.

So when she got a better gig across the street and was only taking her “bookers,” I was stunned to hear I wasn’t included. And, well…hurt. Yes. I was hurt.

Ordinarily, I would have gone off in a huff with my hurt feelings (“I’ll show her”) but in one of his more useful moments, my dad told me flat out what to do: go to her and ask her if she could recommend me to anyone else. To my great surprise, she gave up four names. I put packages together, sent them off, followed up—and nothing.

And then one of them called me. He is Cris Dennis of Film Artists Associates, and he is one of the greatest guys in the world. It doesn’t usually happen and it’s certainly not a prerequisite of doing business, but we genuinely like each other and call each other friends. He and his wife, Martha, were my staunch defenders while I was sick and then recovering from Crohn’s, offering any help they could and insisting I take off as much time as I felt like, and to hell with it. For years after the onset (because these things are really up and down, especially until you learn to manage them), Cris would accept my “not up to it today” without so much as an audible sigh. Complete, unwavering acceptance and support.

But before all this loveliness developed, I was just the new schmo on the client list. Going out time after time, and not booking. I was so upset at the six-month mark, around the Christmas holiday, that I fell over myself apologizing when I stopped by his office to drop off the only gift I could afford: some small plant or a mixtape. Pathetic. And he could not have been more gracious: “Don’t worry—it takes time. It’ll happen.”

When you are low and desperate, this means almost as much, if not more, than the validation of a booking itself. Someone believes in you. Someone is laying out time and money every day because he believes in you. I never forgot it.

I certainly didn’t forget it two years later, when another agency started courting me—hard. Because Cris had been right: I did start booking. And I had spots running everywhere. Class A, network commercials—good ones, funny ones—with me front and center. Selling cars and tacos and I don’t remember what else. A crapload of crap. I was lousy with TV presence.

The agent who’d been assigned to my case confided that my name had come up in their weekly meeting as a hot person they wanted on their roster. Who is she? Who is she with? Find her and get her here.

Who was I?

I was that person who sent you a head shot and resume two years ago. When I had only the good name of my previous agent and a few paltry credits to recommend me. When I had no spots running and nobody knew my name and no one was willing to take a chance on me.

Well, no one but Cris Dennis. And if you think I’m leaving him to come to you, you’re out of your mind.

I was nicer about it, of course. Even while I was marveling over having this conversation—the dream one, the one where the object of unrequited desire comes crawling back on all fours—I couldn’t be mean. What would be the point, other than giving someone fodder for calling me bee-yotch.

But it was, I confess, a glorious moment. One I never would have had—along, quite possibly, with a career and a great friendship—had I not been shitcanned.

So thank you, old agent, for shitcanning me. And for being gracious enough to pass along those names.

Sometimes, you really do get to see karma in action…

xxx

c

Dear Actor Friends,

I recently had an incredible audition experience that I wanted to share with you all…

I was given the opportunity to observe the callback process for a commercial from the ‘other’ side of the table.  It was a non-union white cyc spot to be shot in front of a green screen.  They wanted 3 women:  a blonde, a brunette and an ethnically ambiguous (yep, that’s EXACTLY what they call it).

After watching the first round of auditions on tape, it was pretty clear who needed to be called back in and who didn’t…some girls just ‘popped’ as appropriate while others just flat out and absolutely did not.  This you could gauge w/in the first 5 seconds or so…no need to watch all of every audition.  It had nothing to do with slate, nothing to do with how they worked with the camera, NOTHING to do with ANY of the garbage I’ve been taught in commercial audition classes over the years.  Either the girl was right for the spot or she wasn’t.  Pretty simple stuff really.  Even before the callbacks began, favorites had begun to emerge.

During the callbacks, the girls came in 3 at a time.  It was so much fun to know the secret language of the room…who the favorites were, who wasn’t being considered for casting but for BACKUP casting, who the director liked but somebody else didn’t, who the camera closed-in on because the two on other side of her were just terrible, who didn’t have a shot in hell of getting the job (wh/ made me kinda sad), who was being pointed at on the monitor, etc.  And when the girls left the room, it was clear.  “She’s great!”  “Nope, none of them.”  “Great look but that awful voice!”, etc.  Fascinating stuff, I tell you.

So they picked their 3 girls:  Susie the blonde,  Claire the brunette with the bad hair but who was a good actor and Melanie the ethnically ambiguous girl who was so cute you wanted to go have lunch with her.  They all ‘popped’, they were all ‘bright’ and there was just that ‘something’ about them that set them apart from all the other girls as right for THIS job.

They picked 2 backup girls:  one little blond girl who was cute but just didn’t have the ‘sparkle of rightness’ that the other blond did, they couldn’t decide on a backup for the brunette and they picked a 2nd ethnically ambiguous girl…but now I can’t remember who she was.

So…the director, casting director and ad agency producer presented their casting choices to the owner of the ad agency.  The owner had never seen any of these girls in person and was solely going on what was presented to him on the monitor.

He loved the blond. (She was a shoo-in from the start.)

He did not like the brunette.  He didn’t think she fit the demographic, so he went back through the auditions and picked a Jami Gertz-alike with a generous bosom.  (I had liked her from the beginning…but there was something ‘flat’ about the way she came across. The other brunette had the sparkle…and the other brunette will NEVER KNOW how close she came to getting the job or that the director thought she was the best actress he saw all day.)

He did not like Miss Eth. Amb.  He didn’t like the way she spoke…and that was that.  He picked some Asian girl that hadn’t even really been on the radar, in my humble opinion.

And that was that.  The best actress DIDN’T get the job.  The girls who popped DIDN’T all get the job.  In the end it came down to ONE guy’s idea of a demographic and his dislike of someone else’s speech.

So, actor friends, what can we learn from this?

• Go in and do YOUR thing.  And go in and do it because you love it. HAVE FUN OR  GO HOME.  Otherwise there is NO reason to be there and you can’t 2nd guess what you think they are looking for.
• This is SO not personal.  Those guys behind the camera are trying to do their jobs just like you are.  It has nothing to do with you personally.
• WEAR THE SAME OUTFIT TO THE CALLBACK THAT YOU WORE TO THE FIRST AUDITION.  Very important.  Some girls weren’t recognizable from one tape to the next…and yet, somehow, one of them that did that STILL got hired.
• You’re either the right guy for the job or you’re not…AND THERE’S NOTHING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT.  So relax.  Doesn’t that take the pressure off just a little?

Hope this helps somewhat…

Scott

Acting Coach Seth Michael May on Beating Audition Anxiety

Jack Plotnick on How to Prepare for Auditions and Movement in Auditions

Emmy Winning CD Holly Powell on the 4 Steps to Casting a Series Regular

Kimberly Huie on Booking Commercials

Caroline White on Crashing Auditions

The Good, the Bad & the Ugly: a Vet’s Take on 30 Years of Auditioning by Suzie Plakson

Josh Gad of “The Daily Show” and “21″ on his Big Broadway Break

Audition Tapes that Got the Part by The Brains

Photo by D Sharon Pruitt

Allison (not her real name) just explained to me how it came that she was dropped by her agent. After five years of representation, two of which were spent as a series regular on a network television show, her manager gave her the bad news. It came as does most bad news in this industry: as a fleeting aside while the real world, and its real rules, keep turning.

At a certain point in an actor’s career, one moves past the anxious, desperate question of “How can I find an agent?” to the new-found paranoia of “How can I keep my agent from dropping me?” This feeling, much like a heartbeat, thumps harder after a blown callback or, worse, weeks on end without an audition. But, in the experience of being dropped lies the greatest lesson of all in this business. Ready for it?

Be a human being.

Why is this business of ours a dirty business? It’s not the cliché of casting couch sessions that make some of us feel the need to take a Silkwood shower after a day of auditioning. It’s the subtext that runs through every “business” interaction we as actors have. You are a property, a stock on the Dow; your worth is determined in an ever-changing market. Many of the people who are judging your “acting” are not doing anything of the kind. Instead, they are judging your “type” or your “look” and your “naturalism” and placing a value on it. Even if they are convinced that they know what they are talking about, you have to remember (politely, please) that you know more about acting than most of the people you are dealing with on a day-to-day basis. Some of them will admit this, some of them will not.

This includes your agent, whose only notion of your ability and success as an actor is determined by the commissions he or she takes. Which translates to are you booking jobs, which comes full circle to whether or not you are meeting the current “tastes” of the industry.

One aspect of the “be a human being theory” is realizing that there are things outside of your control that you cannot do a thing about. Being dropped is one of those things. Instead, look back to those moments where you did have control and chose not to exercise it. You do have control in signing with an agent. You do have control of accepting or rejecting the material you go out for. Some of the most successful actors I know have declined auditions for material they didn’t care for and it has served them very well over time. Believe it or not, there are small parts, and it’s the better actors who decline them.

With my first agent, who later dropped me, our signing was the equivalent of a whirlwind tete-a-tete—the girl you bring home from a bar, sleep with, fall in love with at breakfast and have your heart broken by before lunch. In hindsight, was it really love? Was this the stuff of a relationship? No, it was two people getting what they needed, one getting fooled by the other, and me landing hard at the end.

Sure, I could have refused to sign with this agent, but I like doing things like auditioning during pilot season. I could, however, have had my antennae up a bit higher. I could have called them if I had concerns and spoken about them, like I would with other humans in my life. I could have done things to cement the relationship in some actuality (getting feedback, maintaining contact), and if I wasn’t met halfway, I would certainly have been more prepared for the dumping I was about to undergo. The point is, as is so often the case, the problem started well before it turned bad with the agency. The problem was there all along.

Now, I take a different tack with my agent. The other day, I was sent on a third call (2nd callback) for a commercial audition. I got a phone call at 3, saying get to Santa Monica ASAP. I was at my day job in Downtown LA. I left work, changed my shirt, and drove across town.  As I pulled into my parking space about an hour later I got a phone call. The audition was cancelled.

I was livid. Can casting do this? I just wasted my time, the time of those in my office, got myself all psyched up and now—cancelled? Earlier in my career I could have swallowed this whole, a bitter pill bound to pop up later. This time, I called my agent, told them exactly how I felt about the experience, and asked them to relay that to the casting director. When my agent did, I received an amazing response. Heartfelt apologies, huge kudos on my audition, a promise to bring me in for many more auditions, and an explanation about what had happened (the client wanted someone of a different race). There was nothing I could do, but I reacted like a human being, and lo and behold, I was treated like one. Also, I’ve had more auditions this past month than I have in a very long time.

I can’t advise you how not to get dropped by your agent anymore that I can tell you how to book a role, or have a huge film career. No one can. That’s the point. There’s no magic wand anyone can wave. There is, however, knowledge and empowerment. If you deal with everyone in this business like you would other human beings in your day-to-day life; if you try to discern who actually cares about you the person, not you the product; if you put the same values of compassion and integrity onto the people you audition for and meet with, then you actually have a chance at survival.

That’s the point of this blog, and it’s the point of any advice, if you can call it that, I would ever give to an actor.

Be a human being.

You can purchase Jason’s book, Acting is a Job: Real Life Lessons about the Acting Business, in the Minerva Shop. Broadway producer Roger Berlind calls the book “an indispensable guide to the business of acting. Pugatch pulls no punches in describing what it takes to succeed in this difficult, demanding profession. His book is a blast of reality for starry-eyed novices and seasoned pros alike.”

Hello, my name is Scott and I’m a recovering Theatre Snob … you’re supposed to say “Hi, Scott.”

Thank you.

When I made the decision at twelve years of age that I wanted to become an actor there was no question in my mind what that meant: theatre. I grew up in New Haven, CT. Between the wonders of New York City and the great theatres near me (Long Wharf, Hartford Stage and Yale Rep), the performances I saw on those stages resonated with me more than film or television. My training at Connecticut College and at the O’Neill Theatre Center only cemented this feeling.

By the time I arrived in Chicago in 1987 (to rejoin some friends with whom I had helped start a theatre company) there was no doubt that the career I wanted was either one of a journeyman – - traveling the country and performing at all the great regional theatres – - or to be an ensemble member of an amazing company such as Steppenwolf (every Chicago actor’s dream whether they admit it or not). A life full of stability and creativity. I was fortunate to be nurtured by a creative community in Chicago unlike any I had known, and I grew not only as an actor but as a human and (by the nature of some of the pieces I worked on) a politically active soul. THIS was the power of working on stage and feeling the change come over not only yourself but your audience. THIS was the feeling I wanted always. When I worked on stage with actors who had found success in either TV or Film I was unimpressed. I felt that they could only maintain a character’s life for the moments leading up to their cue and a few moments after … then they just kind of … went away. THIS was not real acting, I told myself. The Theatre Snob in me had full reign. When I got my Actor’s Equity Card (by joining the cast of the original production of Steve Martin’s “Picasso at the Lapin Agile” at Steppenwolf) I took myself out to a dinner of Lobster and Oysters. I had made it.

As the years wore on, a glass ceiling of opportunity descended upon me as harshly as the gray skies of the endless Chicago winters. I began to feel restless. I began to feel unchallenged. I began to feel depressed. The roles I was offered fit into the subcategory of “utility actor” time and time again, and the span between the offers grew. I began delivering food wearing a bad polyester tuxedo in a car with no A/C in the middle of Chicago’s hottest, most humid summer. Where was that feeling of security that I desired? Where was that journeyman career? I discovered to my dismay that very few regional theatres actually cast out of Chicago at the time. I also felt that once the handful of casting directors in the city had made up their mind about who you were and what you could do as an actor it was very difficult to shake that opinion. I felt stuck.

A friend from college reappeared in my life. He had spent the years since we had seen each other working as an editor and writing screenplays on the side. He was going to shoot a short film that summer and he wanted me to be in it. Well, being Theatre Snob I had to pass as I was going to be running around in tights all summer and couldn’t possibly leave that opportunity. So I gave him the name of some friends of mine and they made the film … and they had an amazing time. This led to a year of conversation and planning about making another. Through this I began to see the challenges and new horizons that acting on film could offer. I discovered the great book by Patrick Tucker “Secrets of Screen Acting” which is written specifically for stage actors “transitioning” as well as Michael Caine’s “Acting in Film”. I really became intrigued.

Well, forces in my life collided. The Chicago winters were causing an intense Seasonal Affective Disorder in me, I needed to escape an unhealthy on-again/off-again relationship, and I found myself at best on the “B team” of actors in the city. I needed change, challenge and sunshine (and a woman who didn’t make me punch walls). The idea of moving to Los Angeles suddenly appealed to me and I started preparing myself.  I began doing commercials and industrial films, got my SAG and AFTRA card to join my AEA card and started building a “nest egg”. I spent a week in Los Angeles in November of ‘97 at the behest of friends of mine from Chicago who had already made the move. I was overwhelmed by the number of friends I had out there and the pockets of creativity they had formed.

During that trip, on a small side street in Hollywood I passed a few ordinary street lamps and electricity poles. They were plastered with posters and signs for headshot photographers and printing as well as classes. It struck me that the people who had placed these signs assumed that the majority of people walking down this little side street were going to be actors. The weight of that and the volume of actors I would be competing against out there really hit me. Paralysis set in. Then my friend let me know that, yes, it can seem like the majority of people in this city are actors, but you have to realize that most of them are people who were told by someone back home: “You know, you’re real good lookin’! You oughta be in the motion pictures!”  They have no training, no skills and no experience. By having all three of these things already, my friend told me, you instantly rise above 95% of the people out here. This calmed me down, and as I strolled the beaches of Malibu in my shorts and t-shirt in the middle of November (when I would be shivering and cursing life back in Chicago) I made my decision.

Upon returning back to Chicago I continued to build my “nest egg”. I had been told to bring enough to live off for at least six months as I settled in and searched for representation and work (this proved to be very true). I cobbled together a demo reel from student films, commercials and even a monologue that I wrote and then had a camera man at “The Jenny Jones Show” (where I did audience warm-up) shoot for me to look like it was a scene from a film.

I drove out to Los Angeles at the end of January 1998. What happened next is a bit of an anomaly. Through a friend I got a meeting with the commercial agents over at Abrams Artists (they have since left and formed AKA with whom I am now ensconced). Despite my worries that they might view my reel as amateurish due to the lack of clips from any significant projects, they decided to take a chance on me. They sent me out the next day and I booked it. It would be the first of 12 national spots I would do that first year. I can’t attribute this to any extraordinary thing I did, I just think the market shifted to “guy next door” when I moved out here and things just clicked. But what I can say is that it proved to be a great training ground for me. A lot of directors working in commercials are terrific film and TV directors who do commercials as their “day job” just like we do. So I learned a TON and had the bonus of getting paid for it. It’s a great way to get comfortable on a set and play around with what works and doesn’t work on camera. For example: my eyes. While I never had to worry or think about them on stage, these directors showed me that on camera (due to their larger than normal size) they “pop” in such a way that even the slightest movement of them becomes incredibly significant. They helped me learn to use this new-found power for good rather than evil.

Now, while I was lucky enough to work this way soon after arriving I was still a Theatre addict and I started jonesin’ to get back on stage. I spoke with friends of mine (you see how crucial having a strong network of support out here is) about which were the good Equity theaters and I sent a mailing out to them. Again, timing and fortune smiled upon me and I was cast at The Pasadena Playhouse – - one of the few theaters, I was told, agents and casting directors don’t mind going to – - and through that production an agent at Don Buchwald & Associates snatched me up and I met a few casting directors who have since become lifelines. {As a side note here, having had the pleasure of working twice now on productions at the Playhouse and having been witness to many, I can only hope, for the sake of all the good people who have toiled there behind the scenes, the extraordinary artists who have graced her stage, and most importantly for the future audience members whose lives will be the poorer for not experiencing a production in what is rightly the State Theatre of California, that her doors will reopen soon. If for no other reason, it should be saved for its Green Room – among the finest in the country!}

At first I was just hip-pocketed at DBA (represented by one agent but not fully signed … kind of like an internship) and it became my task not only to woo casting directors but to woo the other 7 agents as well. At the time (it seems so long ago now) I hit upon the idea of sending faxes. Few were using email regularly then, phone calls could be rebuffed and I had images of letters or postcards being tossed directly in the “circular filing cabinet.” So I sent personal (at times wacky) faxes of thanks after every audition. This came out of genuine appreciation of someone either submitting me or taking the time to see me, but it had the added effect of building relationships with the agents and casting directors and helping them to become fans.  Most of those who worked so hard to get me my first jobs in town back then are still my greatest cheerleaders today. I owe them all so much.

As I began to do guest spots on television shows I learned about different atmospheres on sets and how they affected the quality of shows. The best example was the set of “Frasier”. The actors on that show treated everyone as an equal. They never hid in their dressing rooms. They were out in the “green room” socializing and making everyone feel welcome. In one week of work on that show I felt as if I had done an entire run of a play with that cast. Theatre Snob started to think “Hmmm, maybe TV isn’t so bad after all. It’s kind of like … theatre!” It’s no wonder that show was as successful and beloved as it was.

One day in the late spring of 2000, as a notorious and disastrous commercial strike wore on, I received (late in the day, of course) two appointments with scripts to read and scenes to prepare for the following day. One was for a movie-of-the-week about firemen, the other was a 3-part pilot for a series about the lives of five gay men and two gay women in Pittsburgh. I started to read “Queer As Folk” and I was stunned. I couldn’t believe they were going to put this show on television. The character description of “Ted Schmidt”, the part I had been submitted for was “chubby and balding”. Now, while I didn’t exactly feel I matched the physical description, the more I read of this guy the more I felt like he was acting out scenes from my own life in LA. His very first scene had him trying to talk to guys in a bar who walk past him as if he were a ghost. He continues to mutter an imagined conversation with these hunks as they keep passing him by. I felt as if someone had spied on me at a number of parties in LA as women I tried to speak to looked right through me. I was hooked at the universal themes in the show buried in this bold, innovative exploration of gay life. I understood the psychology of this guy down to his toes. It was a no-brainer. The firemen movie was tossed aside and I focused entirely on QAF all the while thinking in the back of my brain “well you look nothing like the guy they’ve described so it’s probably not going to happen. ”

What did happen is that Theatre Snob ran into a bunch of Theatre People doing television and his life has never been the same. From the moment I met Linda Lowy, the casting director, and discovered that she was married to my favorite Steppenwolf actor from Chicago, Jeff Perry, I had a feeling things might be different. (Along with her amazing partner John Brace she also casts “Grey’s Anatomy” and “Friday Night Lights” among other projects.) I then met Ron Cowen and Dan Lipman, the Executive Producers and creators of the show (as well as “Sisters” and “An Early Frost”) and found out THEY were Theatre People as well. Their third Exec. Producer was Tony Jonas, the former head of Warner Bros. TV (’95 – ’99) who helped bring to fruition some of the greatest ensemble television ever (“E.R.”, “Friends”, “The West Wing”).

Still, I tempered my excitement with the fact that I was not “exactly right” for the show. I later found out from Dan and Ron that they really didn’t have a clear definition of the character in their minds … until they saw me. When I was brought in to test for the good folks at Showtime I looked around the waiting room and realized that I was the only one in there reading for “Ted”. I had learned from previous tests not to read the voluminous contract that they make you sign JUST before you go in the room (so as not to place in your mind just how much money you stand to lose if you blow this ONE audition) so I just signed by the “x’s” and passed it back and I waited for more “Ted’s” to come in. None did. I later learned that Jerry Offsay, the President of Showtime in 2000, was rather upset about this. Execs like options. They don’t like to be strong-armed into a decision. But as Jerry later told me: “then you walked into the room and I said to myself: ‘now there’s the PERFECT sad-sack!’” They say “Luck is when Opportunity meets Preparation.” Nothing sums up my situation better. An opportunity came along and I was ready for it.

Most of my fellow cast-mates on QAF turned out to be theatre people as well with as strong a belief in the strength of an ensemble as I had. Shooting in Toronto forced us to become a family as we knew no one else up there. We spoke together of what we wanted the atmosphere on our set to be like, and I told my story about my experience on “Frasier”.

While there wasn’t the time to have full rehearsals, it was an extraordinarily collaborative environment during that first year with Dan and Ron allowing us an incredible amount of input. We all cared deeply about making this the best show we could. It had the exact same energy, focus and commitment as any piece of theatre I had ever worked on. Due to the subject matter of the show it instantly politicized us all as well and as the show became a success and I saw how far reaching it’s impact could be I realized that good television could be like “Theatre Plus” — Plus the ability to reach far more people than any one play can. Plus a way to communicate and entertain people in a far more intimate way than one can from the stage. Plus a way to tell not just a two hour story but an 88 hour one!

The biggest struggle that I had was adjusting to telling that 88 hour story and how that affects your psyche. When you’re doing a run of a play, even the most psychologically taxing ones, you’re taking the same 2 – 3 hour journey every night. In making a television series it’s a new journey every week if not every day … and you’re spending sometimes 16 – 18 hours a day in that character’s skin. You really end up living more of his life than your own. I found myself becoming very depressed as we neared our first break in 6 months during that first season. It wasn’t until I got back to LA for a few weeks that I realized all this and saw what a toll playing this emotionally complex character was taking on me. The next five years were all about figuring out how to “leave Ted at the office”. Sometimes I succeeded and other times … well … let’s just say I apologize to certain folks. They know who they are.

As the success of the show allowed me access to new projects  I discovered that, while I still hold to the ideals that blossomed as a child (and that were fertilized by my mentors in college and came into bloom in my years in Chicago), with a good script and powerful ensemble of artists you really can help make positive change in the world even if that change is just to entertain for a few hours. I realized that the theatre isn’t the only place this can happen for an actor. An artist can create on many different canvases and in many different media.

So now I am just an Acting Snob, and the only way I feel fulfilled is by doing and exploring it all. I hope I am among the fortunate few who are allowed to do so as long as I am able.

Thank you.

I used to hate the idea of being anything but an actor, sure that it would take time and energy away from my career.  I won’t lie, it does all take time, and there are only so many hours in a day, but expanding my role in this industry has already given and taught me so much, that the only thing I question is why I didn’t do it sooner.  Here, I want to talk about some of the things that I’ve learned in my myriad of new roles.

The Power of No – We have all heard this before, but I think it bears repeating.  I am still that kid with so many after school activities that I don’t get home until late at night and have to squeeze in my homework.  As much as I like to have a lot on my plate, I have also realized that when I have enough time for something, I approach it with anticipation and excitement.  When I have no time for that same project, it is suddenly a burden.   The quality of the work and my enjoyment of it suffer greatly as a result.  I have recently had to take a look at all that is happening in my life and prioritize.  That sometimes means saying no to projects that I really want to be a part of.

Coaches and organizing gurus have exercises involving lots of list making to figure out your priorities.  If that works for you, wonderful, but what it really comes down to is being honest with yourself about what excites you.  I do my best pondering when hiking with my dog.  “What is important to me right now?” I think, while huffing and puffing up Bronson.  Sometimes the answer is that I must get on stage, other times I need to make money, right now growing this website and producing a feature are at the top of the list.  To make that a reality instead of just an idea, there are things that I have to say no to.

The Power of Yes – Oh the paradox of life!  There is magic in saying yes.  I didn’t know what I was getting into when I was asked to produce this commercial, but saying yes to it has opened up a whole new aspect of the business for me.  I would not have the confidence or knowledge to move forward with producing a feature if it were not for this experience.

But “you just said say no!” I hear you shouting.  What I mean is be open to change.  Be open to the idea that what was important to you six months ago may not be the most important thing today.  I was just talking with my dear friend Marie Colabelli about this the other day, as new opportunities seem to be falling at her feet every moment.  So I asked her to write a few words.  Here’s what she had to say:

“Once I became aware of just how comfortable I was with my habits, the ones that create constant personal obstacles, I almost couldn’t believe how “in my own way” I was. I see so many beautiful lives unfolding around me and all I did was put possibility for myself in a place that I personally guaranteed was unreachable. I work so hard so why would I make it so difficult for myself?

Based on that alone I knew I needed to make changes. That and being tired. But mostly, I felt ready.  I’m not sure I knew what I was ready for except that I was ready to live differently.

So, at its most basic level, I just told myself to stop.

Whenever I chose doubt, whenever I began to question my ability, whenever I was mean to myself, whenever I was hurtful, whenever I told myself I wasn’t enough, had no skills, was fat, unsuccessful….  as soon as the thought began I forced myself to stop.

It was  A LOT of work a first but it got easier quickly because almost immediately I felt change.  However, even in the initial moments of feeling change I had to stop the doubtful thoughts of “probably won’t last” – it’s amazing what we do to ourselves!  Then I started to feel the flow of something new, my newness really, my potential, because there was nothing in the way. And when nothing is in the way there is room for opportunity to enter.  And it did, and now the more I say yes to opportunities, more arise, unfold and create infinite possibility.”

It is easy to think, “Why me?” or “Who am I to think that I can do that?”  Say yes, and surprise yourself.

The Power of Confidence -  Everyone tells actors that they should sit in on casting sessions so that they can see the process from the other side, and they’re right!  It is something that I’ve done before, but the casting process still surprised me.  Actors, you broke my heart!  So many actors were so nervous.  I think we all must come up with methods that we know work to relax us.  I know that for myself, the simple act of taking deep breaths really relaxes me.  This may be because I’ve had a yoga practice for most of my life.  Breathing deeply immediately takes me to a more centered place.  Sometimes, just chatting in the waiting room with the other actors is what feels right.  It reminds me that we are all people that existed before and will continue to exist after the audition, no matter what happens.  Most importantly for me, I really enjoy auditioning.  I think of it as a chance to do what I love.  This lets me be excited by those butterflies in my belly.  Find what it is that works for you.  Jack Plotnick has a great article on his website called “There’s no such thing as ‘Nervous.’”  No one can do work that serves them in the audition if they are shaking with nerves.

The lack of confidence from actors came through in other ways.  There was an interesting difference in scheduling the cast and the crew.  The crew members got calls from me sometimes weeks in advance.  I then confirmed with them a day or two before, and call sheets were sent out the night before.  They confirmed when I asked them to, but that was the only time I heard from them.  They all showed up on time and ready to work.

The actors, on the other hand, got a call from my assistant a few days before the shoot, first putting them on avail, and then again to book them.  All of them were told that they would be emailed a call sheet with all of the information they needed the night before they worked.  My poor assistant’s phone would not stop ringing.  Actors called again and again asking where they needed to be and at what time.  Believe me, I understand.  I have been there. It is nerve-wracking to know that you are probably going to be called early in the morning, but not know the time.  I have waited late at night by my gate for a courier to drop off a script from a network show, only to then have to be up before dawn.  Here is the thing – we will tell you as soon as we know.  Often, your first day is not the production’s first day of shooting, and the call time can’t be set until we wrap, in order to give the crew a proper turn around.  Be patient.  Be professional.  You have been cast and production wants you there.  They will let you know where to be and when.

I just saw “Crazy Heart” and was blown away by Jeff Bridges.  To me, it seemed an incredibly confident performance.  He’s not asking anyone’s permission for anything, and it’s mesmerizing.

The Power of Delegating –  Family lore has it that as a two year old my most oft repeated sentence was, “I do it myself.”  One of the most revelatory experiences of this whole venture was having an assistant for part of pre-production and PAs for the shoot.  On the days Karen was helping me, it was like we were suddenly four people instead of two.  She could get through tasks far quicker than if I did them myself, because her phone wasn’t ringing and interrupting her every other minute.  I could focus on some of the bigger picture issues that all of the day-to-day tasks were keeping me from focusing on.

I can’t suddenly afford a personal assistant, so what is the take away lesson here?  Well, Claire and I are putting it into effect here at Minerva by taking on an intern (we’ll introduce her shortly) and looking to partner with others with complementary skills.  As for my acting career, I’ll continue to build and nurture my team so that I don’t have to take it on alone, and when the time is right, I’ll hire an assistant, instead of thinking of that as an extravagance just for movie stars.

The Power of Power – There is a lot of minutia to deal with as a producer – phone calls, spreadsheets, negotiations.  I was very aware that everything came down to me, and that was often completely anxiety inducing, but also empowering.  After years of waiting for the phone call, I was making the phone calls.

It’s funny, because I’ve always dreaded the calls that an actor has to make – reaching out to agents, managers, casting directors.  I’ve always told myself that, ”I’m not good on the phone.”  That’s bullshit.  What we all aren’t good at is feeling like we are asking for something.  I made what felt like hundreds of calls a day while in pre-production and never once got that shaky feeling in the pit of my stomach.  I knew that I had something to offer, so I enjoyed making those calls.

How do I hold onto that ease when I return to my actor calls?  As Claire says, “You can be an executive actor.”  As I understand it, the “executive actor” steers her career, instead of taking whatever is handed her way.  I needed to call my list of sound stages or we’d have nowhere to shoot.  I’ll strive to look at my actor tasks with that same detachment and not give away my power.

As technology democratizes film-making, the strict lines between acting, writing, directing and producing feel archaic.  Content can be shot and distributed online with almost no overhead.  Through actors access and the like, you are your own agent and manager.  Whether we like it or not, the role of the modern actor is being redefined.  We’ve all taken on these new tasks, but can we take on the mindset as well?

Have you taken on other roles?  Are you producing your own work?  What have you learned?  I’d love to hear.

Recently Kimberly expanded the scope of her achievements by producing and production designing CHICK, the web series.

“I’ve just always been lucky.”

That’s what I’d always say when asked for advice about booking commercials.

And that’s pretty much what I believed.  Commercials were a crapshoot.  They’re searching for a ‘look’ and you’re either what they’re looking for, or you’re not.

From the very first days of my career I was lucky enough to always book several national commercials every year.  I didn’t really examine or explore how or why this was happening and just accepted that I was one of the lucky ones.  Don’t get me wrong, I was extremely grateful for my good fortune with commercials, I just didn’t believe there was a magic formula you could follow to consistently book them.

And then my luck changed.  Not for the better.

Determined to turn things back around, I could not accept that this was how things were going to be from now on.  I put the same active focus into commercial auditions that I did with theatrical auditions.  Frankly every project should be approached with the same level of professional commitment, but it wasn’t until I consciously did this that I broke down the very simple super objective of commercials: sell the product.  And if you’ve stopped to watch commercials instead of fast forwarding through them (oh the joys of Tivo and DVRs) you’ve noticed there are a multitude of target audiences and as many means of appealing to them.  Sometimes it’s about a straight up pitch, sometimes we’re seduced with humor and sometimes we’re swept away in a mini movie.  How do we actors navigate all that?

Knowing your super objective is the key to putting all the puzzle pieces together.  The pieces begin with the breakdown of the character, the storyboards and script.

Remember, selling the product is the ultimate goal of the ad agency and the client; it informs how they look at you and how they evaluate your audition.  They are spending hundreds of thousands of dollars to put their best face forward.  Their image is on the line and they want to see that you embody that image.  It can be either a physical look or an attitude.  We are a society that deals with archetypes and prototypes and commercial casting has its own list of “types”.

Know your type.  You can’t play the role if you don’t know who the character is.  As actors we like to think we can play any character but in commercials that range is markedly diminished.  Thirty seconds isn’t a lot of time to develop character, the audience must identify the players immediately.  Their ability to relate to the quirky girl or the funny hipster helps them identify with the electronic device being pitched so that the next time they’re at the mall that’s the product that’s going to jump out at them.

Regarding image, don’t be fooled by the ubiquitous ‘casual’ to define all categories these days.  An actor’s everyday casual is not the casual of Proctor and Gamble.  The concern isn’t really about comfort.  Usually when Casting defines the wardrobe as casual what they really mean is approachable, friendly, and reassuring. Knowing how to decipher the directives from Casting is easier once you take in all the information available.  The casual look of a soccer mom in a mini van is different from a girls night out.  The car shopping couple has a different look or energy from the Valentine’s Day card couple.  Knowing your type can inform how funky, trendy, conservative or fashionable your wardrobe choices can be within the vast landscape of ‘casual’.

Now you’ve identified the character or ‘type’ what next?  How do you ensure the decision makers identify YOU with their product?

To thoroughly break down a scene we need to read the whole play or script.  You are looking for information that will inform the action of the scene but might not necessarily be found in the scene.  The same is true of commercials.  Look at all the information you’re given that will inform what you do for your audition.  The product is obviously the biggest clue.  Then there is the character breakdown you were given by your agent along with any wardrobe stipulations.  Once you arrive at the casting there is the explanation given by the person running the session.

Everyone is working together to help the clients find the perfect talent for their spot.  Casting is bringing in people they think the director will like.  Your audition, in a small way, is a reflection on them. They want to look good.  They want you to look good.  They are there to help you.  If they’re not running the session themselves, they’ve given specific direction to the people running it.  Listen to the notes they’re giving.  If they are telling you to keep your reactions small and real, they’re making a point to steer you away from the typical commercial high energy reaction.  Sometimes they’ll tell you that energy is exactly what the client/director is looking for; food commercials like Chilis and Olive Garden are fans of the over-the-top “oh my god I’m having the best time with my friends” energy.  Of course the trick is to look ‘natural’ doing it.  If they tell you to bite and smile, that’s what they want to see.  They don’t want to see you bite, experience the flavor and then smile because you’ve decided you like it.  If they want to see all that they would have told you that.  And of course sometimes you’ll do what they asked and then they’ll have you do it again with an adjustment.  Make sure you make the adjustment, this shows them you can take direction.  Careful listening can give you the biggest clues about how to give a great audition.

And last but not least is how you deal with the copy.  While it is a SAG rule that copy be written out on a board in the audition room, do not rely on this.  Take the time to get familiar with the copy.  These days sides are available online prior to the audition; use every advantage at your disposal.   If you can’t get the sides beforehand, get there early.  This is especially key when the copy is wordy and full of information that doesn’t really reflect how we actually speak; you know, like when we’re telling our best friend about our struggles with fibromyalgia or our gastric issues.  If you’re not concentrating on the awkward lines you’re better able to sell your likeability and charm, which is key in those commercials.  Simply put, looking awkward when talking about awkward situations doesn’t boost sales or confidence in a product.

Here’s an example of a spot that illustrates how all these pieces fit together:

You’ve been called in for a credit card spot.  You’re a dad on a safari with the family.  There’s no copy.  That’s the information your agent gives you.  Now you could turn up in full khakis ready to conquer the Serenghetti, but look at the information you’ve been given… you’re a dad with your family of young children.  Family vacations are rarely depicted as hunting expeditions, at least in commercials.  Credit cards are pitching their reliability and rewards programs.  A reliable, dependable family man, that’s what they’re looking for.

At the audition you see the copy.  The family went to a wild animal preserve, they were having a great time and then an elephant sat on their car.  They had earned enough rewards with their credit card to not worry about paying for the repairs.  Casting tells you they’re seeing you in groups, so they’re going to wait for some kids to get there, even though you and the ‘mom’ are there and ready to go.  So, the clues you’re given are they want to see a dad having fun and interacting with his family; the credit card rewards program is the hero of the spot; it’s a happy ending story. The damage to the car is a non-issue, the product (in this case the credit card) saved the day.  Remember the credit card doesn’t want it’s image associated with something negative.  The best reaction to the elephant approaching the car is to reassure the family because that echoes the qualities of the product.  Remember to engage with the kids positively, the director is taking note of which actors are comfortable and tolerant with kids… for the job you’re going to have to spend a lot of hours with them.  In a car.  The actor who booked the job hit all those beats, and in a comedic way.

Sometimes at the audition there is no copy but it’s a group scenario and you’ll be given a scene to improvise.  Do yourself a favor and if you’ve never studied improv, take at least one improve class in your life as an actor so you know the guidelines.  Improv is a great skill to hone and will serve you well in all aspects of acting.  And it can save an audition from being a complete and utter train wreck.  There are some that think the objective of group auditioning is to dominate the crowd so you are the only one noticed on the tape.  You might be the only one who registers in your group but they might not even take note of your group because there was no ‘group’ scene.  There’s a reason they’ve set up a group dynamic; that’s what they want to see.  Learn how to play well with others!  Sometimes the dynamic between a group of actors books the entire group the job.  I know, I’ve experienced it first hand.

Last but not least is the audition that entails nothing more than slate, profile and simple question.  Easy enough right?  But even the simplest things can get horribly botched.  My only note here is to keep it simple.  Simple and friendly.  When they ask you what you like to do in your spare time it’s not a contest to see who is the most off the wall adventurer.  Share something you really enjoy doing and telling people about, you’ll have enough natural passion to get their attention.

These are some of the things I’ve learned about being in the room over the past 14 years.  But there was one big thing I learned about getting into the room.

When things initially slowed down for me I assumed it was just a dry spell but when I talked with my agents I discovered that they had been submitting me as much as ever but I just wasn’t being called into auditions.  We all know that you can’t book the job if you can’t get in the room.  If casting doesn’t think you’ve got the right look for the product you won’t get in the room.  This is why your headshot matters.  My reps and I discovered that while my photo was great as an 8 x 10 it wasn’t as captivating as a thumbnail jpeg in online submissions.  I had a big vivacious smile on my face that everyone found engaging and friendly, but when the picture was shrunken down all my features were compressed and distorted.  Today almost all submissions are made online. Be thorough when choosing your headshot: it should look great blown up but should also catch the eye when scrolling down a page of submissions.  This applies specifically to your primary headshot, the one that will come up on your profile page of LA Casting or Breakdown Services.  Make sure it’s representative of you and the category in which you are most submitted.  You can post additional shots on these sites for a fee so don’t worry about not being able to show everything in one headshot.  First get their attention; if they want to see more they will look for it.

The other key thing with photos is making sure that you honor your category.  The first set of new pictures I brought in to my agents didn’t make the cut.  They were great pictures, I looked like a leading lady; I looked the way I wanted to be seen, strong and sexy.  But they didn’t look like someone you’d see using a Swiffer or going to Ace Hardware; sly smiles and cleavage did not work in the young mom category. Clean hair, warm smiles and polo tops are the order of the day for casual moms and this is a major category for me.  Sometimes the breakdown will specify “cool mom” and then I know I can have a bit more fun and be a bit more me with my wardrobe choices.  But since my super objective is to book the job, I take all the information at hand to give the director and client exactly what they need to achieve their super objective.

I couldn’t get arrested. I arrived in Los Angeles with thousand dollar headshots, a degree from NYU, one lonely Off-Broadway credit, and a couple of commercial callbacks under my belt. My new roommate was pretty, positive, and an amazing waitress, and after 4 years in Los Angeles, she was finally starting to get regular commercial auditions. I was cute, impatient, and knew that my serving skills would always be pitiful. After months of workshops, mailings, classes, student films and networking, I still couldn’t get an agent. Not even a meeting. I just couldn’t imagine waiting four years to get going.

Fortunately I had done an internship in New York at a busy commercial casting office, and every once in a while, they would let me audition. Out of 3 or 4 auditions, I got two callbacks, so I felt I really could do commercials. More importantly though, I learned the ins and outs of commercial casting.

Flash forward to L.A. I met a handsome, tragic, bitter, older actor, got my heart broken, and realized I had just moved to a city I’d never even visited with basically no real friends. I became horribly depressed and lonely. I knew something amazing needed to happen to pull me out of it, and somehow, I was going to be the one to make that happen.

And then I suddenly remembered an article in Seventeen Magazine I’d read many years earlier, about a then teenage Leonardo DiCaprio. Leo auditioned for 100 commercials before he booked one! So I set my mind that I was going to audition for 100 commercials. That’s it. Just audition–like my roommate was doing. That was my goal. But I had no agent, no SAG vouchers, no nothing. Just a headshot, a resume, and a resolution to prove to myself that I belonged in this vast, foreign city. Oh yeah, and one other thing too. An internship, once a week, but this time, I was at a talent agency through which many auditions were scheduled by casting directors from all over L.A.

Unfortunately, as with many internships, it had been made clear to me when I started that I was never to approach the agents for representation, so I took it upon myself to “be my own agent” as they say. I started by casually leafing through papers on desks. I learned to read upside down. I even went through the garbage when no one was looking, all the while my heart pounding in my chest. I learned which clients were my “type” and kept my eyes and ears peeled for any mention of their name. My first two crashes went smoothly. I would just sign in, wait for my name to be called, go in, and do fine. One day, I noticed the agency’s top girl in my category had an audition for a fast food commercial. I scribbled the address down on a post-it, and hid it away. I was taking a break with another intern (who never had a clue about what I was up to), and as we chatted, I started to fidget with the pink post-it in my jeans pocket. The previous two auditions I’d found out about the day before, but this one was today. I only knew what time the one girl was going in, which was now. If I waited till after work, the session might be over. God, I thought, I really am perfect for this one.

“Tell them I went home with a migraine,” I told the other intern and I took off. When I arrived, I noticed something was different. A typed list of names on the wall. Hmm. No one was around, so I signed in, grabbed the sides, and began preparing. A guy came out and looked at the sign-in sheet on the clipboard, then the wall. Then the clipboard again. And the wall again. Oh God! Oh God! “Caroline White?” he called out quizzically. “Yes?” “When was your appointment time for?” Uhhhh… “Now?” I said sweetly, though I couldn’t have even told you what time it was. “Who’s your agent?” Fuck. Fuck. FUCK! “I’m with T.A. Management,” I confidently declared (the initials of my friend who had a great phone voice). He raised an eyebrow at me suspiciously. I pursed my lips and cocked my head as if to say, Hmm, what an odd mistake… He peered at me, from head to toe. I tried to look sweet again. He was onto me, but he rolled his eyes, acquiescing, “Just go in.” I was in! Maybe he saw something in me, (or maybe he was just too tired to turn me away), but I ended up booking it. I got taft-hartleyed into the union, a handful of agent meetings, and my pick of four different agents, (thanks to my instant mass mailing with the words “JUST BOOKED NATIONAL W/ NO REP!” emblazoned on every envelope in red Sharpie marker).

They say actors should always be prepared, but when it comes to crashing, those terms take on new meaning. I did whatever I could think of not to get caught. I was always there to “drop off a postcard.” I’d poke my head into offices looking for “my yellow umbrella with the wooden duck-beak handle” or my favorite pair of shoes. I’ve paced lobbies and outside of reception as though I was on a very important phone call, just to avoid questioning. I’ve camped out in bathrooms, striking up conversations with other actresses about the auditions. I was always armed with excuses like, “Omigod, I’m at the wrong address!” or “Wait, is this for Nike?” and “I’m just waiting for my cousin.” In New York, I’ve paced the sidewalk, Starbucks in hand, checking my watch while I scoped out actresses coming and going, and in L.A., I’ve staked out the front door from my car. Sometimes I would call casting and just say, “What are the times for the young women today?” Sometimes I’d get an easy answer like, “Two to four,” and sometimes they’d be like, “What are you talking about?” I’d pretend to have the wrong number. I kept a bag with a variety of outfits (casual, business, upscale) and accessories. I randomly walked into one casting office, and right away, the associate looked right at me and said, “You’re late.” “I am so, so sorry,” I responded immediately, without skipping a beat. “I had an emergency. It won’t happen again.” By this point, I was a crashing expert, and considered her statement an invitation, so I went in, and I booked it.

I even crashed theatrical auditions. Mostly little independent films by casting directors I’d never heard of, but one was a big show at an office I’d been trying to get into for years through a personal connection. I must have sent them 80 postcards over 8 years. I figured they were never gonna let me in, so I had nothing to lose. It was very nerve wracking. They had a list and couldn’t find my name on it, so I distracted them by gushing about the associate’s “gorgeous sweater!!” and then launching into a funny, partially true story about her boss that involved a celebrity and his cats, (which somehow worked). This is why crashing just isn’t for everyone. It adds an extra layer of nerves to an already high-pressure situation. It’s like performing two parts at the same time, and they both have to be perfect. You have to play the character when you get in the room, but instead of preparing before you go in, you’re playing the part of “Actor with an Appointment, ” and they have to buy them both, except “Actor with an Appointment” has no script. It’s all improv. Well, commercial casting directors especially have always been a fan of great improvisers…

Why be so blatant? You might ask. Well, after the first big crash success, I thought I’d try to reform my wicked ways, but my new agents barely sent me out, so I started politely asking if I could go in on certain jobs. I recently chatted with Casting Director Craig Colvin about the subject. He says, “I do think it is admirable to approach and ask, occasionally.” And added that, “Most people who ask to be seen when they don’t have an appointment actually have an existing relationship with me, so I know what they can do.” I was usually turned down, however, and I figured I’d rather ask forgiveness than permission. Although, if you get caught, chances are they won’t forgive and forget. Craig told me, “A couple of girls tried to crash an audition that was only for men. Then when they were caught, instead of just walking away, they created a web of lies. They’ve never been called in since.” I too, got a little cocky and careless one day and got totally busted on a job in New York where they were only seeing ethnic girls. It was pretty embarrassing, but I thought about my Dad’s words of wisdom to my grade school basketball team, “If you aren’t fouling out, you’re not playing hard enough!” We may have only won one game the whole season, but I felt the same way about my career. I thought, it’s even worth getting banished by one office, if it means all the other ones are calling me in. I was almost like a gambling addict, who can only leave the table when their money’s run out. I actually was proud, as crazy as that may sound. Crashing had become like my heroin, and I was chasing my first big high. Once I got used to the nerves, I found it kind of thrilling. I felt like a spy, or Harrison Ford in The Fugitive. I loved the adrenaline rush from getting past “the system, the man,” and I felt even more elated when I booked three nationals from crashing. I felt like, I am accomplishing something amazing, against all odds. I sought out similar stories about people like Danny DeVito, Mary Steenburgen, and the Verizon guy. (I know the one about Mary to be true—for the movie Goin’ South. She wouldn’t leave the casting office until they saw her.) Hey, I may be telling this to Conan O’Brien one day.

As rebellious as I may sound, I actually bailed more often then I crashed. I usually weighed the risks against the potential profit, as any good business person should. In New York, I didn’t care too much about my relationship with my agents (because, frankly, they didn’t send me out even once), but in L.A., I eventually found agents who really worked for me, and I didn’t want to screw that up. Craig said that he knew of actors who’d been dropped by their agencies for repetitive crashing. He also told me of an instance when an actor crashed (and booked) a regional fast food commercial that didn’t pay a lot, and would prevent them from doing national network fast food spots (which usually pay a lot more). Their agent was not happy, but ended up forcing the actor to take the regional spot so as to maintain a good relationship with casting (who not only would have likely not seen that actor again, but might also hold it against the agency and thus not see any of their other clients). I usually tried not to bother with anything except for national spots for major brands, but sometimes, I just wanted to feel like I was doing something, so I’d go in when the risk really wasn’t worth it. There were also times of frustration. Crashing can be hard work, and emotionally draining. One cold and windy day in New York I went to 11 offices (Unlimited Metrocards are a must!) and I couldn’t even get seen once. I thought the universe would take pity on me because of the bad weather, but at the end of the day, I felt pretty defeated, and like I’d wasted a lot of time. (At least I burned a lot of calories?) I’ll be honest though, all those “tough luck” days have been since the economy took a downward turn. Casting isn’t quite as busy as it was this time last year, and the jobs aren’t as big either. There’s more legwork, and less payoff, at least for now.

We’re all hoping that things pick up, and when they do, my #1 piece of advice to any wannabe crasher is that you have to really know yourself. It sounds simple, but a lot of actors, especially those newer to the business, really don’t know themselves. I’d taken a couple of classes through NYU where we’d been “typed”, and that helped me understand more about how I was seen, but I didn’t start crashing until well into my third internship, and even then, I still didn’t have a perfect handle on my casting. What really blew the lid off the mysterious art of casting were two things. One was Dallas Travers group workshops (which are amazing along with everything else Dallas does). And the other was…standup comedy. It pains me to tell you that. I think standup is one of the hardest things in the world (that doesn’t involve physical pain), but nothing forces you to get to know yourself like doing standup comedy, and if you can master that, I personally think you can do anything. Of course, if money were no object I might have just gotten therapy instead. But that’s just me. So if you decide to crash, be aware that even if you think you’re perfect for a job, you may end up playing the fool. Craig Colvin pointed out that actors, “…simply don’t know all of the specifics required on any job…[Casting] is privy to a lot more info. Some of which we can’t even disclose.” It won’t be apparent if everyone at the audition knows how to ride a unicycle, or speak Swahili, or has a Canadian passport.

Of course, maybe you’re just looking for the bathroom…

• The Lowdown on Using the Breakdowns: Part 2 - The Agent, The Casting Director, and The Owner
• How do I get into Voiceover: Part 1
• Resume Tips for Newbies and Old Pros
• Acting Coach Seth Michael May on Beating Audition Anxiety
• Career Coach Dallas Travers: Do Less More Often, Pt. 2
• Perseverance: My Lessons with Judith Ivey
• So I Married an Actor

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