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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This may end up being a bit of a love letter to voice-over and voice-over artists – sort of a mélange a deux of why I feel smitten when you kiss me, and also that there are some things about yourself I wish you would change.  Okay, maybe not change, but at least pretend to work on.

As a Voice-Over Director & Engineer, I remember with crystal clarity the first time someone (hereon known impartially as ‘the talent’) booked a voice-over spot out of my very own booth, a palpable sensation that in any good booth director translates to a love of words and sound and how they miraculously work together to sell make-up and frozen peas.

On paper, it may not seem all that complicated.  As an in-house booth director & engineer for a respected talent agency, I am responsible for the second half of the voice-over casting process.

After the agents have solicited copy to audition from any number of sources (Videovoicebank, Breakdown Services, direct communication from advertising agencies themselves), for any type of need (commercials, video games, network promos, movie trailers, edutainment narration and even the ‘on-hold’ voice or two), they compose a list of audition candidates based on – often vague and overcomplicated – specs from the copywriters: age, gender, texture (toilet paper-soft versus cigarettes-and-whiskey-gravel), delivery (announcer versus conversational), even volume and tone (loud and strong and straightforward versus whispery and wry and sensual.)  It is my job to translate those specs into direction and apply that direction to each individual talent as they come in to audition the copy at our in-house studios.  On any given day I may be working on five to ten different pieces of copy and working with forty or fifty different voices.

In a perfect world, the talent and I merge their unique vocal abilities with the nuances of the written commercial word in such a way that products will fly off Ralphs or Target shelves! I record it as digital files (this being the digital age and all, long live the reel-to reel!), edit it all into a few perfect takes, and forward it on to the decision-makers for that very elusive stamp of approval.  So, of course, quite a bit of it involves pushing buttons and turning knobs, adjusting the mic and having fundamental and intimate knowledge of the recording software’s cut & paste function.  But, more than that, it does take an effective (and hopefully creative) ear.

Although most copywriters would be loath to admit to it, there is often no poetry in advertising.  It is not Shakespeare, their run-on sentences about what makes a good fabric softener or whether HP represents a good printer or a fast car.  What is poetry, what is Shakespearean, is taking those words and hurdling a contrary assortment of uninspired phraseology, misspellings, bad grammar, alliterations and misconstrued emphasis, and presenting them in an intelligible, cohesive, fluid stream of consciousness – interested, sensible, even almost musical, if necessary.  It is all about that magical moment when you finally summit the Kilimanjaro of copy and find the very right way to say something with the perfect synthesis of feeling and authority.

There are those that will say that the digital age has slowly marked the death of the in-house booth, as easy and inexpensive as it is now to set up a recording arrangement at home and give the daily commute the middle finger, but – and not just for the sake of my own present and future employment – I would say that couldn’t – and shouldn’t – be further from the case.  The director/talent relationship is a thing of value and beauty.  If you both understand each other, you know what to do and what to look for.

As a booth director, I am invested in your future, so I will only ever ask that you treat me with the respect that I afford you. I am the person you will see the first time you step up to the microphone, and our rapport will hopefully outlast several presidents.  I make you sound even better than you already are, and even pretty good when you aren’t, when you can’t get two words in a row out to save your life.  I listen to everything you say, sometimes seventeen times in a row, and sometimes every day, five days a week.  I digest it and remember it and regurgitate your highlights when you are struggling to find a point of view, when you have no idea how to tackle a particular phrase in whatever pitch and tone it requires, let alone arrange it to suit the ears of the intended listener.

Despite the prognosticators that have long-signaled the also-death of traditional network and advertising relationships, this dangerous liaison has been around since the dawn of radio and television, is not going away any time soon, and will simply roll merrily along into the Internet-driven future.  Which will likely result in even more interesting possibilities for reward.  Advertising is, after all, a mad rush to solicit: the more windows that are open (no pun intended), the more that advertisers will try to find unique and motivating ways to fill them with eye candy.  It may not be with the thirty-second pitches to which we have become accustomed, but to pay for our free entertainment, there must always be advertising in one form or another, and advertising will always need a voice.  And the voice will always need a guide.

So, once you have been placed in the precarious position of being solicited with those almost-magic words, “You have a great voice, you really should be working in voice-over!” (if I had a nickel…), it is best to simply resign yourself to the inevitable mysteries of the craft and put your most optimistic foot forward.

HAVE A VOICE.  Make a choice.  Have YOUR voice.  Find it and polish it.  But it ALWAYS must be YOUR voice.  There will always be direction that tries to force you to be one way or the other: announcer/not “announcery”, textured/crisp, interested/flat, warm and fuzzy/dry and wry.  But, in end, you must have YOUR voice to start with, and it all branches out to the particulars from there.  It’s all about YOUR voice.

An introductory voice-over class will buy you your first toolbox.  There is no one teacher or methodology that is better than any other, every one has its salient and resonant points and applicable techniques.  Okay, full disclosure, maybe there are some bad teachers and methodologies floating around out there, especially if the old adage that “those who can’t do, teach” holds true…  Probably any Professor of Vocal Achievement that posits a complex and intricate scientific approach to voice-over success is one to straight-up ignore.  Charlatans exist in every corner of the entertainment universe.  Do some research, follow the advice of your peers. 

The Internet and the Voice-Over Resource Guide are invaluable devices for finding the right classes to fit your initial needs and financial situation.  But in that regard, it’s an important first step, not only to help you to discover and harness your voice, but to help you decide just how important the pursuit really is.  Classes are justifiably expensive and, ergo, they a great weeder out – you will know just how much you care to proceed when confronted by the high price tag.  And given the state of the industry, very few agents will be willing to take you on without some formal training.  Even a professional referral will only get you so far through the door.

LOVE YOUR VOICE.  Take care of it and love what you do with it – service it.  Enjoy the process.  Take more classes, participate in workshops, join work-out groups and then, at some point, once you have found your voice and learned to love it, you must jump into the deep end of the pool and make a demo – the ubiquitous 60-second common denominator of voice-over talent that both streamlines and contrasts your VOICE.

The demo in daily use is probably going the way of the dinosaur.  In this digital age it is just so easy for voice-over producers to turn over auditions in a matter of hours, instead of listening to samples of what “might” work for them.  Not even five years ago, it required several phone calls or faxes back and forth, a day or two to produce auditions, and the ubiquitous FedEx office to rocket our audition DAT across the country. 

Now a simple email to an agent with a new set of specs or rewritten copy can be on my desk and in front of talent in a matter of minutes and MP3’s can be emailed to an overextended producer before our distinguished competition is back from their three-martini lunch.  But, a demo is your calling card and it is still one of the only concrete ways of getting an agent.  In that one minute, you can capture your own personal lightning in the bottle, your styles and paces, your textures and ranges, your signature energy or lethargy (thank you, Carl’s Jr.)

I don’t pretend to have any idea what makes the “best” demo, but I know what I like as a booth director: don’t over-produce it, simple, straightforward is so much nicer in my ears than convoluted, inconsistent or unrestrained.  I NEED to hear more than three-second snippets – anyone can manage to make three seconds of copy sound good, and any decent engineer can engineer those three seconds of copy to sound good.  Personally, I want to hear a full sentence, a thought, a point of view.  Or, in this case, about five or six of them.

Sidebar: I recently advised some students in a voice-over class to not only send their demos to the agents – again, the Voice-Over Resource Guide will be a valuable who’s who of applicable agents – but ALSO to fire one off to the booth director too.  Hey, we get bored in the booth, we like to get mail too!  And we have that trained ear and more time to listen than the agents do, so its possible, POSSIBLE that we might pass your demo along to the agent a lot faster than it will meet their ears sitting in a pile under the desk with the other forty-nine.

LOVE VOICE-OVER.  To truly understand voice-over, you have to be intimately aware of it, married it.  Listen to everything – watch TV, listen to the radio, play videogames, listen to books-on-tape.  Observe every single way voice-over is used.  I am completely astonished when talent actually admits to never watching TV or listening to the radio, let alone not even owning one.  Is this not the business we are in?  How can you understand what kind of voices they choose if you don’t even pay attention?  Damn the TiVo and watch the commercials, see what they are producing day-in and day-out, season by season, and what kind of voices they typically hire.

And, most importantly, COME IN to the booth.  Too often a raw talent ends up being a flash in the pan, mesmerized by the idea, the utopia, the dollar signs, and three months later, when it hasn’t yet materialized, they miss an audition here, miss one there, and then like a misbegotten salmon, they are swimming back upstream. 

Continuity, just like in the film world, is king – the more you come in, the better your shot, and the more you just plainly and purely enjoy the process, the better the chances that someone on the other side listening to the sometimes several thousand voices say: “Save Money.  Live Better.  Wal*Mart.” will actually hear the joy in YOUR voice, they will hear the smile, that you believe in their product, they will hear the truth in advertising and that truth is that you know exactly what you are saying and how it should be said.  Even if it’s the twenty-second Wal*Mart spot you’ve read this week, relish it.  They can hear it.  Or not hear it.

You know that little frown you carry around in your pocket and slip into a read sometimes? I can see it, I can hear it with my eyes closed, and they can hear it too.  And they won’t like it.

What I like, when you do it and I hear it, the “kiss” that makes me smitten with you and makes me love believe in voice-over, is that delicate dance YOUR voice does with THEIR words.

Because, again, in the end, in that booth for seven minutes or so, all we really have are our voices.  And I mean that both as literally and deeply as it sounds.

We all know that an actor’s headshot is the number one tool she has for getting a foot in the door. There are many resources that explain what makes a good headshot: the “do’s and don’ts” of headshots, recommended photographers, and so on and so forth.

But what about the second most important tool – an actor’s resume? It’s rare to find a helpful, honest take on what makes a good resume (except for, of course, great credits). In the many casting director workshops I’ve taken and in working as a casting intern, I’ve picked up some resume tips that have been exponentially useful from the people who look at resumes for a living.

YOUR NAME:
It is the most important thing on your resume and yet so many actors seem to put little or no thought into how they print it. A casting director once looked at my resume and asked me, “Now, why would you allow your agent’s logo to be larger than your name? They work for you.”

Whether consciously or subconsciously, I would say that we actors tend to give our agents too much power. It’s our resume, our career. We can also fall into the trap of shying away from boldness, of trying to stand out too much because we’ve been reminded so many times that to do so seems desperate and that we’re “just another actor.” So we make out names appear small and unspectacular.

Take back your resume! Make sure your name is the biggest, boldest thing on it. After all, we all want to “make a name for ourselves,” so why not start with one of the few things we have control over, our resumes?

FONT:
About 90% of actor resumes I’ve seen have extremely tiny font. Perhaps this is a way to fit in as many credits as possible, or perhaps it stems from the hope that this will create the illusion of many credits. However, we must remember that casting directors actually want to see what you’ve done. In addition, they don’t spend very much time looking at any given resume. So, if they have to pull out the magnifying glass, it’s likely they’ll move on to the next, easier-to-read resume without giving your wonderful credits the time of day.

Use font that is not only large enough, but is also easy on the eyes. One trick is to hold a copy of your resume at about arms-length and be honest with yourself about how easy and/or aesthetically pleasing it is to look at.

CREDITS:
Whether you’ve got a ton of great credits or you’re just starting out, these tips will help you develop a resume that puts your best foot forward.

Types of roles:
In television, the type of role you play will be made very clear to you in your contract. For TV credits on your resume, you should always specify whether you were “Series Regular,” “Recurring,” “Guest Star” and “Co-Star.” It is slightly less clear when it comes to film, but according to Sherie Hernandez, casting associate with Brett/Greenstein Casting (whose projects include Melrose Place, 10 Things I Hate About You ,  and Rita Rocks), the correct terms are “Lead” or “Principal” and “Supporting.” When asked about specific character names on resumes, she says, “It’s more helpful to see what kind of role it is than role name.  Unless it’s a play.” Also, remember that “featured” translates to “extra” in casting speak, so if you have a speaking part in something, be sure to use one of the above phrases. Here is an example of a resume that exemplifies all of these points so far: (http://www.colleenfoy.com/Resume.html)

Limit what you include
I recently asked Sherie what the one tip she would give actors about their resumes. She says, “Don’t put really random credits just to fill up a resume!”

Actors tend to want to put everything they’ve ever done since high school theater on their resume. However, a casting director once told me that padding your resume with a bunch of theater credits doesn’t necessarily impress anybody unless they’re from notable theaters. I’m not saying that theater’s not important or even that casting directors don’t care about theater credits (because I know for a fact that’s not true). But, I’d say be choosy about which credits you include. Be honest with yourself about what seems notable or recognizable. You want to include something that would make a casting person go, “Oh, I know that improv school,” or “I’ve heard of that theater before.” Those are the things that they are looking for.

At the same time, be sure to include a few credits you are proud of, even if they don’t necessarily fit the “notable” profile above. If it means something to you, it should be on there. You never know, it might happen to be someone’s favorite play or a theater from their home state and a great talking point.

Directors:
Someone out there has been telling actors to include the directors name on all the projects they work on. Perhaps these names will indicate some kind of credibility or recognition. However, according to Sherie, it depends on what type of project. She advises, “I think TV projects should list studio/network or just network… always helpful to put director’s name on film projects.”

I would recommend that if you worked with a renowned director, you should find a way to highlight this. Also, if a project has something else remarkable particular about it, for example your short was selected to be in a notable film festival, make a notation on your resume. Here is an example of a resume that does this well:(http://elaineloh.com/EL-Resume.html)

Be honest!
It goes without saying (although most people, including myself, will tell you anyway) that you should absolutely be honest about your credits. Aside from the obvious ethical reasons, you never know who’s reading your resume and knows better (and might call you out on it).

Being honest can work to your advantage, however, by allowing you to be creative. I see a lot of actors include student films under their “film” credits. The problem with this is, they mostly likely won’t mean anything to casting person because s/he probably won’t know the film or the director. As a casting director once told me, “You’re not fooling anybody.” That’s why I suggest creating a section for “Student Films” or “Short Films.” Be sure to list the schools you did these projects with, as a good film school can give the credit some credibility, so to speak. Creating a section like this says, “I may not have a big studio film on my resume (yet), but I have experience on a set, I’m honest, and I’m serious about my work.”

Other creative sections you can include:

“Improv/Sketch Comedy” – including these credits in a separate section from “Theater” credits can emphasize your comedic ability and works especially well for commercials and actors interested in comedic roles.

“Web/New Media” – I’m sure you already know what a growing part of the industry the Internet is. If you’ve done a web-series or YouTube spoof, you can include it here. This can bulk up your resume if you need it and show that you’re savvy.

ADJUST FOR EMPHASIS
Just as I suggested you hold your resume at arms-length to gauge the boldness of your name, the same can be useful for other parts of your resume you’d like to emphasize. Use formatting (larger font sizes, bolds, and italics) to draw the casting director’s eye to the things you want them to notice most about your body of work. If you completed a program at one of LA’s premier improv schools, for example, that is something you would definitely want to make sure they don’t gloss over. Practice the arms-length technique to test which credits your eyes are attracted to first and go from there. You can see these techniques used in my resume: (http://leslie-annehuff.com/resume)

Also, adjust your resume to cater to the casting director you are meeting. If you are auditioning for film, it’s best to have your film credits at the top of the page. If you are meeting a casting director that you know works on various web-series in addition to TV, be sure that your web/new media credits are prominent. This takes a little extra time, but is worth it when it makes you seem like your work is in line with their work.

LAST TIDBITS:
Don’t list commercials (a simple “Commercials: Available upon request” will do).  Commercial work is almost completely irrelevant to TV and film casting directors. Sometimes,your commercial work can work against you by attaching you to a product that may somehow be in conflict with a project.  And be sure the things in your “Special Skills” section are really things you can do because, at some point, you will probably get called upon to talk about them and maybe even do them (gasp!).

Finally, I’ll say: Make your resume something you’re proud to hand over to a casting director, whether you’re just starting out in the crazy business or if you’ve got tons of credits. Your resume should reflect you, creatively and truthfully.  Hopefully these tips will help you land more wonderful roles to add to your now wonderful resume.

In last Wednesday’s post Dallas introduced us to the Rule of Seven. In this week’s article she’ll tell us how to use those priciples to network effectively, land the right agent, and increase our auditions.

Keith Ferrazzi wrote a book called Never Eat Alone. He’s known as The Master Networker and I bet he knows all about the Rule of Seven. One of his many secrets to relationship building is this idea of staying in consistent communication and constant communication with the people that you know. Rather than reaching out to a large group of people once or twice a year with a massive update about what’s been going on in your career, Keith Ferrazzi has a practice of doing what he calls pinging. Pinging is the simple practice of making one call a day to someone he knows. Ferrazzi just to checks in and see how they’re going and keep the communication lines open. Doing that every day – this small little step – allows him to very easily maintain his relationships.

Now, when Keith needs a favor, it’s easy because he’s doing less more often. He’s staying in consistent communication with the people that he knows in order to really master those relationships. Rather than feeling like he has to manage an entire address book of people, he just takes it on one person at a time. That is doing less more often.

Casting Director Workshops

A lot of actors I meet complain that casting director workshops don’t work, and I agree with them; they don’t work if you don’t know how to work with them. But with this principle of doing less more often, there is an easy way to make casting director workshops work for you.

An easy mistake a lot of actors make when it comes to workshops is they feel the pressure to meet as many people as they can, or perhaps they get so excited about workshops that they overdo and they burn themselves out by workshopping too much. Casting director workshops are expensive, and I don’t believe that you can truly master relationships by trying to meet too many people inconsistently.

So do less more often when it comes to building professional relationships. Rather than believing you have to know everybody, force yourself to compile a small target list of those people you really ant to meet and do your best to meet them as often as you can.

My client, Billy received some not-so-good advice from his manager. She recommended that Billy attend casting director workshops in order to acquire some credits. Her suggestion was to attend one workshop every week with a different casting director. Wow, if Billy did that, he’d meet 52 people in a year’s time. Isn’t that swell?

Though I am a believer in casting workshops, I do not agree with this strategy. By meeting 52 people once, Billy would spend over $2000.00 to become unknown.

Your job is not to be seen. It is to be known. You can become known by applying the Rule of Seven to a select list of casting directors rather than the Rule of Whatever to whomever might be on the calendar.

I have developed a very simple strategy that has helped countless actors book their first major film or television role. Here’s how you can use The Rule of Seven to snag more auditions. Here goes…

Step 1- Create your target list. There are literally hundreds of casting directors in Hollywood, so it’s pretty impossible to effectively apply the Rule of Seven to all of them. Not to worry – you don’t have to. Just select a small (less than 12) list of casting directors and target them specifically and consistently.

Visit www.castingabout.com or www.imdbpro.com and research those television shows where the most opportunity for co-stars and guest stars exists. Please note that I did not just tell you to make a list of your favorite shows! I know, everybody loves The Office. But part of what makes that show so great is the fact that the cast is stuck together day in and day out working in an office, so new characters are rarely introduced. Instead, make a list of those shows that feature new characters on a consistent basis such as Cold Case, CSI, or any of the other countless procedural episodics.

Step 2- Get some face time. Register for two different CD workshop services if you can. Now, remember, not all services are created equal. I recommend that you join a service that truly auditions their talent before accepting an actor. This insures that the caliber of talent is consistent and sets you up to really shine.

Step 3- Only workshop with those casting offices on your target list. This will allow you to maintain your sanity and your budget by attending a limited number of workshops with a purpose rather than taking a shot in the dark and workshopping with various CDs through a process of random selection.

Step 4 - Do your best to attend every workshop you can with members of your target list. Remember, it’s The Rule of Seven so aim to workshop with the same people multiple times over the course of a year. That’s how you become remembered. That’s how you’ll build trust. And that’s how you’ll eventually snag auditions.

Step 5 - Follow up. Send a thank you card after each workshop specifically speaking to one thing you appreciated or learned in the class. Be real. Be authentic. Avoid the obligatory “hey thanks… hope you call me in soon.” And instead specifically identify one part of the workshop experience that you appreciated most. This shows that you actually paid attention.

Step 6 - Stay in the loop. Send a postcard update to your target list at least every other month. Remember Bed Bath and Beyond. You must remind them how they know you and keep your name in the forefront of their minds.

Landing the Right Agent

A lot of actors forget about the Rule of Seven when they’re hunting for an agent. Trust me, do less more often… especially when it comes to landing the right agent.

Before I outline exactly how to find your next agent, I’d like to tell you how NOT to get an agent. Please don’t buy an agent directory and mail one headshot to every agent on the list. Don’t target countless people just one time. And don’t invest a ton of money and energy into creating the one perfect submission package. Don’t put all your eggs in one basket. Instead, do less more often and target a small number of agents several times over the course of a few weeks. Remember, it’s all about the Rule of Seven, folks!

Now, let me walk you through the right way to land the right agent.

Step 1- Create Your Target List.
Visit www.imdbpro.com to identify which agents represent the actors who book the roles you hope to add to your resume. If you don’t have an imdbpro account, get one. It’s called “pro” for a reason. Your goal here is to partner with an agent who will actually get you auditions, so don’t limit yourself to only the top, celebrity-filled agencies. But don’t sell yourself short either and target any bottom feeders out there. Focus on those agents who represent actors that are one or two steps ahead of you career wise. If your next step is booking small roles in big budget features, then target the agents who represent the actors who play those same roles.

An easy way to distinguish the right agents from the others is to also Google the agency name along with the word “complaint.” If your search generates a couple of unhappy remarks, don’t sweat it. But if your search generates multiple hits, I’d steer clear. No representation is better than the wrong representation. You deserve an agent who will work for you and support your efforts.

When you’ve decided on a short list, collect addresses and specific agent names, as well as their phone numbers and get ready to rumble. Rule of Seven Alert: Pick fewer agents than you think you should! In order for your audience (agent in this case) to absorb your message, they must receive your message seven to twelve times. Pick a manageable number of names so you can be persistent and consistent with your ships. Don’t worry, after you’ve applied The Rule of Seven to your first group of agents, you can move on to a second short list.

Step 2- Map Out a Seven Step Marketing Plan.
I recommend that you hit each agent on your list with a marketing message of your choice every other week for a total of fourteen weeks.

The Rule of Seven works when your audience develops a familiarity with your product, so don’t be afraid to begin with a subtle message that generates some curiosity before you send in the big guns. Your first touch might be a simple postcard, letter of interest, email, or invitation to an upcoming performance.

One: Mail a creative postcard

Two: Fax a one-sheet or press release

Three: Hand-deliver a handsome press kit

Four: Mail a letter of recommendation

Five: Email or deliver your demo reel

Six: Mail a creative castability sheet

Seven: Call to request meeting

If you want results in your acting business, you must embrace the business whole heartedly. Seventy-five percent of your job is marketing. And this, in my opinion, is an unfortunate fact because if you liked marketing, you’d be pursuing a career in advertising, right?

You could be the most talented actor in town and if you’re not willing to market that fact in an authentic way, if you’re not willing to share your excitement about the fact that you’re an actor, it doesn’t matter because you won’t be working. Every actor, at every level must master their own marketing. Even celebrities must market. Sure, the may not do postcard mailings, but they do interviews, appearances, photo shoots, and radio spots. It’s all about marketing and being known.

Remember this — Marketing is a process, not an even. You can make sense of your business by doing less more often and applying a simple, measurable marketing plan based on the Rule of Seven.

While you’re at it, allow your actor to do your marketing. So many artists think that there’s this big divide between their art and their business. If you’re naturally an artist, you assume that the business is going to be unnatural and uncomfortable for you. As an actor, you’re creative, you’re intuitive, right, you’re really committed. Let those qualities seep into the way you run your business.

You’re going to see really great results when you do that and you’ll also start to see that the way you do anything is the way you do everything. You can be an actor and you can also love marketing, and those two things support each other rather than compete.

You can easily apply The Rule of Seven to every area of your career. The best part about The Rule of Seven is that it allows you to become more consistent and persistent in your marketing efforts, which naturally leads to exciting results. Just remember that what you do is less important than how often you do it and how happy you are during the process. So go out there, do less stuff more often, and have a blast.

I want you to take one thing that you’ve gotten from this article and put it into action in the next 48 hours. Don’t wait, strike while the iron’s hot, strike while you’re excited and begin to implement this principle of the Rule of Seven.

You can purchase Dallas’ book The Tao of Show Business: How to Pursue Your Dream Without Losing Your Mind here and be sure to visit Thriving Artist Circle to learn more about her coaching programs.