Lovin' The CW

I would have had an audition for three of the aforementioned network's shows: Reaper, Smallville, and Supernatural, had Reaper's session not gotten in the way of Smallville's Monday morning. Ah well, Reaper had first dibs, and I operate on a strict "dibs-based" system.

Supernatural was Friday morning, with my North Vancouver peeps on Brooksbank Ave. It's been a few weeks since I was last there (agent still claims that business is slower than dishwater ... wait, wrong metaphor) so it was good to see them again. I get a terrible anxiety when it's been too long between auditions; so far, I'm averaging one per week, and it's been about two weeks since my last audition (which was technically a pre-screen, but screw you, I'm counting it, a'right?)

It was a fun little part, playing on the classic Werewolf (sorry, lycanthrope) scenario with the guy mackin' on his girl in his car, claiming there's no wolves in the state of Pennsylvania, before getting hauled-off by a pair of furry paws through his car window. It was awkward as hell to "act-out" that last part, with no paws for hauling, and we all had a bit of a laugh in the room. It wasn't supposed to be played comically, but we all can acknowledge the humour that is a guy standing out of a chair screaming, while walking sideways out of frame. Yeah.

Reaper was even more fun, auditioning for a recurring role in the series. This guy was a Red Sox fan who sold his soul to the devil so the 'Sox could win the Pennant. I can promise that at least 40% of 'Sox fans actually did this. The role was fun, and the audition went OK; I seem to be basing my audition's success on what kind of direction the Casting Director gives me. If it's a "Good, now let's try it more ... " then that's OK. If it's a "we're not getting the gravity of the situation ... " that's not good. On the bright side, at least he gave me another crack at it, and he didn't just figure "this kid's not getting it, let's make sure the door doesn't hit him on the way out; I don't want ass-prints on my new doors."

I went to the agency after to pick-up some more resumes, which surprisingly had Battlestar Galactica on them (actually it just says "Battlestar", and "Paul", which wasn't the name of my character.)

"Well yeah, they paid you for it, so it goes on there."
"But what if a Casting Director wants to view my acting in this particular program?"

Well whatever, they won't. I left my agencies office with a "we'll see what comes next," such is the life of an actor.

I'm going to use my free weeks pass to the Steve Nash Fitness Centre that I got from work. My World Gym membership expired, and I will miss the place; I spent the better part of the year there, and the work has shown. It's funny how when you start something, you have a certain idea of how much work needs to be done, but once you get into it, you realize you have to do so much more, and that you can go so much further.

Happy birthday to my mom today who turns -- c'mon, you don't think I'd do that to her, do you?

... And The Lord Taketh Away

I received an e-mail from my agent telling me that they're not actually going to do my scene ... but I may be involved in some future project. I'll still get paid for going to set, but this is really starting to get aggravating. When my agent calls this "a stupid business" he wasn't lying.

So far my career looks like this:

Days on-set (offered): 5
Days on-set (actual): 3
Shots completed: 1
Odds of actually getting to act once called to set: 3720 to 1.

I'm earning a reputation as the guy who books, but never actually works. I don't want to get paid for doing nothing.

"What Are You Doing Tomorrow?"

I'll just start by saying I've been having a creative crisis in the last two weeks, so last night's call from my agent couldn't have come at a better time. After-hours calls are usually a good thing, and this proved no different.

"What are you doing tomorrow?"
I was working, but I figured I would ask before I told him.
"Uh, why?"
"Because they want to book you for Battlestar."
"Well, I'm working, but I'm pretty sure I can get out of it."
"Pretty sure, or can you? I need to know now, because I need to tell them tonight."
"Ok, Ok, I can get out of it."

I had to. I don't care what I had to do, I would not miss out on being on Battlestar Galactica. Before taking care of work, I had to wait for phone calls regarding call times, wardrobe and ... sides delivery?

"We need to tell transport where to deliver the sides," the co-ordinator on the phone told me. Rememeber, BSG is the show with the SUPER-SECRET-IF-THEY-READ-THIS-BLOG-I-WILL-BE-BLACKLISTED-FOR-LIFE sides, so the fact that they had to have a guy hand-deliver my pages didn't surprise me. I had to meet him nearby because he couldn't find my place.

"Sorry, we've been working a lot (like the people I speak to on the phone keep mentioning) and I'm a little fried." 'sall good, buddy. Thanks for the pages.

I get my wardrobe info, and call time later in the evening, so I then headed-down to work to get my schedule straightened-out. One of my managers made me promise to get him a car if I hit it big, which brings the grand total of car-related IOU's to eight.

At work today, I just told people I had to head-out to go to my second job, which is actually true. Not to diminish the elation of doing it, but acting is a job. You're being paid to deliver a service. A fun and wonderful service, but a service none-the-less.

Being on set again was great, even if I had trouble locating the entrance of the huge film studio. Arrive, hair and make-up, and then I hit the shoe box trailer until lunch. A lot like being on set for "I Love You, Beth Cooper", however, there was no kindly old lady telling me not to spill anything on this blog this time. Also, I didn't act. I see a pattern forming. They'll have to bring me back again if they want to get the scene.

Just another day on the job.