Parking tickets 3. Gareth 0.

3 auditions all over L.A and meeting with acting coach first thing in the morning. Belated Valentines Day dinner with girlfriend.
Yesterday was epic. Today after earning my third $50 parking violation the wheels finally fell off. I'm exhausted.

It was worth seeing Nikolai in the morning. Once again he was able to remind me that it's all out of my hands. Keep it simple, play one thing and commit to it in the scene. Then don't worry. Some guy has written this scene in Starbucks two days ago and the part has already been given to some TV Star or the next best thing. 50 other actors will go through this room today. Most will be terrible. I'm a good actor, if I'm right for the part I'll be called back. Problem is, so far, I hardly ever am.

Audition 1 saw me playing the cop with an anger management problem. You know the guy, he snaps and beats up a witness, saves the little girls life but gets a grilling from the chief. Not really me. And they know it as soon as I walk in. It would save everyone a lot of bother if they simply said "thanks, this isn't gonna work" at this point, but we go through the whole game. The best I think I can hope for is that they then see how great an actor I am and put my headshot and resume in the "hmmm ... interesting" pile.

Audition 2 was at Walt Disney Studios. Serena joined me on this one. It was a funny sight having Ms Cotton in a waiting room full of men in suits like me doing her NZ Listener crossword. We'd been for lunch at Big Boys Burger in Burbank. Finally a good American burger! The Big Boys Burger in Burbank is the oldest Big Boy in the U.S. It's an original 1950's drive in diner. On weekends people bring their classic muscle cars into the lot and car-hops bring their burgers out to them. It's like being on the set of Grease. I changed into my suit in the parking lot like a real L.A actor. Character is a lawyer, District Attorney with mayoral ambitions. Maybe more my style. Hoping they can see past the scruffy beard I'm sporting for the NZ audition I'm putting down on tape later. I get a similar reaction I'm getting at most auditions now. It seems to be a mixture of relief to see someone half decent, and confusion as to why I'm not quite right for this job. The sooner I figure out what kind of product I'm selling in this enormous marketplace, the sooner my potential customers will recognize it as something they want. I'm getting there. My manager is making time for me next week to run through my auditions, my approach, my look etc. and we will be reviewing the footage from a couple she has procured. Doesn't that sound like fun.

Always always always take I.D out with you in L.A. You have to be 21 to drink and with everyone suing everyone all the time no one will take a chance if you forget yours. We drove back home to get I.D debating whether it was worth it the whole way. It was. The Edison is an old power station converted into a bar. All the old fittings and machinery have been used to decorate the place and a live Jazz band plays. A Green Fairy with electric wings pushes round an Absinthe cart and the cocktails are sublime. We loved it. Though these Kiwis are still getting used to the idea of someone driving off in your car to park it for you.

My house-mates birthday tomorrow. Plan is to drive to vineyards in a limousine. Could be fun.
Pleased to report that Knotsberry Farm was nearly deserted and all the roller-coasters were cleaned up in a couple of hours.

Steel Panther were hilarious. One 15 minute guitar solo that included every famous rock guitar riff ever written, plus Flight of the Bumblebee for good measure and concluded with Guitarist exclaiming "How fucking Awesome am I!" Stage ended up filled with women going crazy and Serena bought a t-shirt. Have learnt that "Appetizer" in L.A means "Mains" for Gareth and that 5 minutes after your parking runs out you WILL be stung.

A reporter from Metro interviewed me over a cocktail on wednesday. Pretty sure I said some dumb-ass stuff so look out for that one folks. Serena has put down her Reeces Peanut-Buttercup Ice Cream and is doing bedroom yoga. I need a nana nap. Sorry for slacking off on the blogging. Hope it's still interesting.

G

Meeting Oscar

Apparently there are quite a few Oscars floating around Wellington but last night was the first chance I've had to get my hands on one. It was awarded for Visual Effects and if you've seen What Dreams May Come you'll know its owner fully deserved it. More on that later.

In between trying not to stress about my call-back and running round and around La Cienega park I've managed to turn in some good tourist time in L.A. Serena and I walked Runyon Canyon, dodging all manner of dog life and seeing our first snake! (about 30cm, no need for panic.) Runyon offers some pretty spectacular views over Los Angeles and is kinda like Mt Eden is to Aucklanders, if Aucklanders all wore basketball shorts and had dogs. We hit Hollywood Boulevard for a dose of tinsletown tackiness, with the Ripleys Believe it or Not Museum surely being the fake plastic jewel in Hollywoods 99c Tiara. Apparently Ripley was a bit of a dude who got around however so hats off to him, but I'd probably give it a miss if I was you. Favorite exhibit was a tie between the human hair lingerie and the two way mirror where you can watch suckers trying to see if they can curl their tongues.

Last night Serena and I headed an hour out of L.A into the Santa Monica mountains with her old friend from Uni to a Black and White Party. We took black figs and feta and I busted out my Chuck Taylors. The house belonged to said Oscar winner and was nestled in the mountains at the end of a long tree-lined cobblestone drive. Walk through the big oak gates, past the fire pit, spa, pool, pool house, cactus garden ... you get the idea. Beautiful place. We drank and nibbled, posed for photos with Oscar and sat down for a table banquet with 30 other people. It was a 32nd birthday. Having us two there made it 32 people. It was meant to be. Later we played the 'guess who I am without saying the actual name' game. Tough game for the out of towners. I'd certainly never heard of this guy The Situation who's named himself that after his own ab's. It was a fun night for all, including this sober driver. One of the lovely hosts is going to bring Serena's bag back into town tonight even. (Serena had quite a good time too.)

Call back audition today could have gone a lot better. Nothing like a second shot at something to really up the chances of cocking it up. The director was there this time. This being a small Indie film it was still pretty low key but his attempts to get me to lighten it up failed I fear in the face of my super-intense trying real hard acting. Great to blow it away after with a walk from Venice Beach to Santa Monica Pier and back with Serena afterwards. She'd been dozing in the car sleeping off all the fun from last night. Venice Beach put on a show to match my first visit, complete with man-in-rug self-blindfolded running around sidewalk like a, well, a nutter and some guy in a pool of blood surrounded by people with a pretty mean looking head wound. No idea how that one will turn out. Best of luck mate. Lunch-time entertainment included an amazing pianist on the sidewalk who got a tip from me for playing an amazing piano version of The Godfather theme. That's crazy rug man doing leg exercises beside him.

Preparations are under way for tonight's adventures. We will be continuing the theme of All things Tacky and dining at the Saddle Ranch Chop House on Sunset Boulevard where you get a free steak if you can stay on the mechanical bull for an alloted time. Rumor has it you get a free drink if you do it in your bra too, though I doubt Serena will be up for that one. After dinner we're heading over to The House of Blues to see Steel Panther. T.H.O.B is being torn down this year and is a real institution. It looks like a tornado has picked it up from a swamp in New Orleans and dropped its sorry corrugated iron ass on Sunset Boulevard. Steel Panther are a big, glam rock metal band in the tradition of Spinal Tap. They play every monday night. Chicks get their boobs out at these gigs. Though once I again I doubt if Serena ... well, one can only try.

Auditioning for my first vampire on wednesday. Surprised it's taken so long. Skinny, pale intense actor that I am. I'll keep you posted. Of course.

G

All hail Chipotle.

Is there anything better than waking up to the girl of your dreams next to you? I'm a happy man.
Oh, and I've just scored my first call back. The roller-coaster has just started its climb again.

I was very proud of myself getting to LAX on time to collect Serena curbside. Heading back home at 4pm was another matter. While we happily chatted and caught each other up the standstill traffic got the better of one delightful gentleman who proceeded to ram his huge urban tractor into another guys car. I never saw what started it, but after the dude leapt from his car shouting I thought he might have designs on finishing it. Serena and I both confessed to each other later we were both hoping like hell he didn't have a gun in his glove compartment, but also secretly were. However it did mean I could say "Welcome to L.A baby" and feel all cool.

That night I went for Mexican take-out. All hail Chipotle. Their Guacamole is made fresh 3 times a day, corn chips made fresh on-site and a meal that will provide enough for lunch the next day as well, all for under $10. Like most takeaways in L.A there is a full blow-by-blow calorie count on the menu too. It was while chowing down on Chipotle and watching American t.v (which as Serena pointed out is at once entirely familiar) my manager, her second and assistant all rang me for a congratulatory conference call. I have a call-back for the Indie Film. What this means is the Casting Director liked my tape enough to pass it on to the director who liked it enough to want to see me do it in person, meet me and work out whether I'm his guy. I proceeded to get all business about what I do now but Lena was adamant I take a moment to have a toast and enjoy getting my first call back "because it will never be as sweet as the first time." I like her style. I managed to feel great about it for at least 10 minutes or so before worrying again. The call back is Monday. I'll let you know.

Having Serena here means running again. Damn her fitness and self discipline. As always I feel a million times better for having done it though and it gets me out of my head. We managed a food shop at Wholefoods and a walk around the famous Farmers Markets and The Grove which was plenty for today thanks. Bought a bottle of Santa Barbara Pinot Noir and they'll have to do better than that one to come close to a Rabbit Ranch thankyou very much. Much sweeter. Like everything here.

I met a lawyer on the 25th floor of a skyscraper today. She had to take a call from her lawyer during the meeting. "Your lawyer? Must be a tough gig for him." "I'm in the middle of a divorce." "Oh. I'm sorry. Well, you two must be a formidable opposition." "My husbands a lawyer too." "Right." "Pretty L.A huh?"
On the ground floor they drove my car back to me and I gave them my validated parking ticket and went on my way a few steps closer to being able to legally work in America. It's costly, and going to take a bit of organization.

My housemate was going out tonight. Serena politely asked in her Nuw Zild accent if she "was off out?" "I'm all fat?" Asked my slightly incredulous housemate. What followed was a painfully funny scene that could have come right out of Flight of the Conchords as Serena attempted to ford the waters between our accents and cultures to some mutual understanding. I was still laughing at the idea of my girlfriend, upon seeing my new housemate dressed up and off out for the night say "you're all fat." Funny too, because it's the kind of thing Serena might actually think but never dare say.

G

Kick my Ass for a Dollar.

Is there any place on earth worse than an audition waiting room?
If you've never been in one, imagine a doctors waiting room. You've never met the doctor but she is in the next room holding the results of a VERY important test. You tell yourself it's really not that important, but it bloody is. There's other patients in the waiting room too. They're mostly your size, shape and look. In between mumbling to yourself and going over and over what you'll be saying in there (if you ever get in there, it's been 45mins since you arrived) you're all sneaking glances at each other, sizing each other up. Only one of you is going to get good news and you all know it. You're all acting cool but you're not. Even Wolfgang West and the guy from Home and Away are trying to wipe their hands dry on their trousers. Some cute girl comes in and tries to break the ice by cracking a lame gag and everyone tries too hard to make small talk whilst realizing all of a sudden how few of you are actually american. An assistant calls your name and you pass by sympathetic looks and mumbled good wishes into a neon lit cubicle where your casting director for today gives you her fake as shit smile and token small talk. But you'll take it happily and she knows it. There's no camera, it's just a pre-read. Or maybe her assistant is pressing record on what looks like an iPod. But probably it's just the C.D, on a chair, and you, on a chair. A small chair. She's watching you very closely but you just know you're wasting her time. As evidenced by the worst "thank you for coming in, that was great" goodbye and door held quickly open. You're the 58th she's seen today and she's desperately in need of a gin. You bail outside having no idea where you're going but are just happy to be out. And then you start thinking about it...

I was thinking today my two least favorite things to do are finding my way somewhere when being on time is really important, and doing an audition. I've come to Los Angeles to do my two least favorite things. A person could get really dark living here...

It's funny how something in New Zealand that feels so wrong can feel so right somewhere else. I'll always remember being snowed in in Bristol, England on Christmas Day and finally realizing why Roast Turkey and Vegetables were apparently the perfect Christmas food. A desperate late night drive-thru McDonalds Hamburger once every five years in New Zealand makes me feel dirty and ashamed. A late-nite drive-thru McD's Quarter Pounder on Hollywood Boulevard in Los Angeles makes me feel like all the pieces of the puzzle have finally come together and I am happy.

So I had a bit of a recce around my neighborhood, which for the record is Miracle Mile. (Pretty apt I feel. I'm gonna need one.)
Turns out I'm just around the corner from all the art museums and The La Brea Tar Pits. The what? I was hoping you'd ask.
The La Brea Tar Pits are a big grass area, which in L.A is unusual in itself. A relief for this Kiwi though. Till i noticed the odd mound of bubbling Tar leaking from the earth. There is a whole lake of the stuff, with methane bubbling up through it. Archaeologists are hard at work in a special area in the middle of the place where you can watch them at it. They've pulled massive chunks of earth out and are slowly whittling away at them finding the post-dinosaur mammalian remains of the animal life that were unlucky enough to wander into the tar and get stuck, and of course the bigger animals that wandered in after them thinking they were getting an easy lunch. There's a rather distressing fibre-glass model of a mother and baby mammoth watching as Dad sinks into the tar in the main lake. So a big Stinky Park of Death. But populated by living families and canoodling couples. Odd.

After doing my first Indie Film audition I had the chance to explore Venice Beach. Imagine the Newtown Cultural festival in Wellington after a hard night on drugs, throw in your mum's hippy friend, a sprinkle of skateboarders, a dash of surf-dude, top with ample hustle and serve to sound of bongos and madman mumble. It's a human zoo. And thoroughly enjoyable. Venice moves at a different pace to the inner city and folk there are damn proud of that. Great bookstores and good coffee. Just watch yourself, you don't quite know what's coming down the pavement at you. But chances are it will smell interesting.

Oscar season is heating up here. Of course. I should have guessed. It must be bigger here than anywhere. Not having an opinion is tantamount to leprosy here I believe. Best get out and see some films then.

Serena arrives tomorrow. I may have mentioned that. Looking forward to being a tourist. I know she is.

Funniest sight of the day: A very cheerful looking fellow on Hollywood Boulevard with a handwritten cardboard sign that read KICK MY ASS FOR $1. WEDNESDAY SPECIAL!!!
He was smiling. Either business is booming or he's nuts and doesn't care. I know what I think ...

G

Me, Meryl and Tricky Dick.

So, I have moved into a room I can officially call my own for the next month. I spent my first evening at home on the couch eating good fresh Mexican take-out and watching Julie and Julia with my new house mate. Well, she fell asleep. It was me and Meryl Streep in on a saturday night. Rock and roll I know.
Here is a clip of my house mate Elaina talking about her book. Excuse the commercial at the start of it ... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h3lCWeakO-0

It's Valentines Day tomorrow, but not for me. I'll be saving up my love for thursday when my better half arrives for a holiday. And on Monday it's presidents day. Abraham Lincoln and George Washington's birthday, which was actually today I think. I can't quite remember what the Nixon impersonator from the print shop told me now, I was too busy staring at his shiny pate loud hawaiian shirt and thinking Presidents Day must be a big day on the calendar for a Nixon impersonator. I was right. He also does the voices of Reagan, Clinton and Bush too, but his looks mean he sticks with Tricky Dick for appearances.

Pot of tea with ex-pat Kiwi, night out watching loud bands and drinks with a fantastic Kiwi actor whose going great guns here. That was my weekend. I learnt where I can find good coffee, how to tip, and that being in successful films with Oscar winning actors does not mean you're loaded. Acting is a nerve-wracking career fraught with insecurity and poverty occasionally upset by the briefest of periods when you're flush, working and on top of the world. Even if you're working with George Clooney.

I have been diligently following who has been picking up the parts I've been auditioning for and found that I am on the right track and only lacking a good haircut, biceps and some notable American work on my resume. I'll start with the haircut I think.
I have a couple of auditions after Presidents Day. One for a Scottish C.I.A agent. Thats right, Scottish. Just when I thought I was getting my American accent down pat and it's all There's a Moose running Loose in the Hoose. I'm counting on the popularity of James McAvoy and Ewan McGregor to help me sidestep the bicep problem, and channeling the spirit of New Zealand's own resident Scots actor Eddie Campbell who used to stand in the wings before a performance of Flipside:The Men of the Rose Noelle whispering "I am a white hot acting machine" in his rumbling, 2 pack a day, meat pie and coke accent. I've since been told he does this before any show he's ever in. I guess when you're a deserter from the Royal Marines it must pay to remind yourself what the hell you're doing there. Mind you, they'd never think to look in a theatre either I imagine.

I'm happy to report that Meryl Streep is pretty darn good as Julia Childs. Just when you think she's overcooking it (ha) she does something so profoundly real and heartfelt you forget you're watching a performance. Film's a bit trite though. Just a trifle. (ha.) (That's me laughing at my own cooking puns for those who don't know who Julia Childs is. I didn't either. She's America's Alison Holst. Kinda.)

An American asked me today why we have the Queen on all our currency. I couldn't really answer. Why do we? I mean, I know there's some official reason, like we're still part of the commonwealth as such, but is that just the rule is it?

And something that caught my ear and made me laugh. As I was having a drink with a friend, at the table next to us, someone said Kiwi so we both cocked our ears and overheard a table of locals arguing over what a Kiwi actually was. One was determined to prove it was a carnivorous parrot, and another swearing it was the fruit. "you know, KIWIfruit. They just call them Kiwis over there." I decided not to interfere. I figured they'd never believe shy wingless nocturnal bird with whiskers anyway.

G

Forward Momentum

Well it's been a quiet week. Too quiet.
After the initial flurry of excitement and activity in week 1, week 2 has ground to a halt. Not an audition in sight, manager not answering my calls and it rained for two days. And so it turns out being an unemployed actor in L.A turns is just like being an unemployed actor anywhere. Empty days stretching out in front of you, texting people for coffee and the inevitable psychological battle to remain positive in the face of downward spiraling hope. I have given myself the odd talking to and worked on my accent, done some exercise and even considered writing again. However none of that helps one feel like they have any kind of forward momentum. On the plus side I am catching up on a lot of films from the lap-top.
The monotony of the week was broken up yesterday by a photo shoot for some new headshots. (See new profile pic)
These were taken by Deidhre Fahey in Valley Village in the most amazing house where she lives and works. It smelt of maple syrup. Deidrhe has platinum blonde hair, is around 60 and a native californian. She ditched her boyfriend in her 30's because of one phone call from her high school sweetheart and 'soul-mate' Mike. That was him out the front raking leaves. They've been together ever since. She was telling me all this to try and get me to RELAX as I apparently looked mildly terrified in every shot. It's true. Most of them look like I'm either going to cry or I'm just looking forward to getting out of there. Both of which are also true. She was great though. And I did get some okay shots I can use. Spending your career learning to NOT look down the lens and pretending to be other people makes it difficult when asked to stare down the barrel and just 'be yourself'. But like she said, we can fix pimples, the odd hair, change the color of your clothes and skin tone in the lab but what we can't do is give you a personality. A good photographer can help a subject reveal theirs. I'm glad that's over. We'll see what the manager says...

The coffees and drinks with ex-pat Kiwis begin today. Looking forward to some company. I'm meeting a Kiwi actor who's done very well for herself over here on Friday so looking forward to hearing her war stories. Serena comes over next week giving me the perfect excuse to be a tourist. Look out Disneyland, The Lakers and Vegas! I have an audition for a small Indie film on monday, which given my FIlmography may be right up my alley. Though, surprise surprise, the character is a cop. I have at least three cops in my family that I can think of, so the potential should be in there somewhere. Somewhere ...

Righto off to trendy West Hollywood cafe Urth for coffee with a Kiwi.

G

Go Saints.

The start of a new week and hopefully a fresh round of auditions.

This past few days has been all about finding new digs as I have to leave my current situation this weekend.
It's been fascinating and tiring driving around L.A meeting potential house mates. They have been coming in all shapes and sizes.
I'm pretty sure I'm going with Elaina, a 32 yr old Noo Yawka who writes childrens books. She's been in her apartment 11 years and has seen housemates come and go. She's cool with my short term situation and having Serena for two weeks in the middle of it. I think it beats the Yoga-mad cat lady who had partitioned off half her kitchen and liked my aura.
It'll mean leaving the leafy vibrant West Hollywood for jumble-sale Little Ethiopia, but good to see another side of the city.

Last night I went to a SuperBowl house party and enjoyed "Noo Guy" privileges. This meant good viewing spot, beers and being told I had a cool/cute accent. The New Orleans Saints, who had never been to a Superbowl before cleaned up the favorites the Indianapolis Colts. Few too many Colts fans at this particular party to jump for joy, but I was stoked to see the underdogs, post-katrina and all that climbing the U.S Sports Mt Everest.

I'm in talks with T.Ryan about fixing up his 1967 Volvo. I've been enjoying the relative luxury of a brand new Toyota that talks to me and tells me where to go, but it's been costly. Better to have wheels. Non powered steering and Air-Conned or not. It was his birthday the other night and we went bowling with his brother and girlfriend. Just like bowling in N.Z except a two hour wait and guys high-fiving and pretending to root the ball-dispensing machine, and everything generally 15 decibels louder. Oh and everyone's drinking light beer. I guess when you have to drive miles to get anywhere and you need to be constantly watching your carb intake ... well, I had to just keep my kiwi bogan mouth shut about that one. This is L.A.

Getting new head shots done this week, L.A styles. Whatever that means. I'll let you know.

G

Yielding and the Crap Detector.

Another day, another couple of auditions. This is pilot season.
At some point a couple of years ago, I realised I was giving far better audition by not caring so much or trying so hard. I'm relearning that lesson again. Thankfully a bit quicker this time.

Looking at where I had to get to for this mornings audition last night, I caved and booked a hire car with GPS for a week. Bliss. A little voice pops up while I'm trying to remind myself what side of the road to stay on telling me I should think about turning in a minute. Bless its little computer socks. To arrive refreshed, on time and awake to an audition helps. I'm gonna stop calling them auditions. I don't know what they are. It's like a scan. Like being walked through a "crap" detector, except you can't hear the alarm going off, only they can. I could do hundreds of these and never hear anything. In fact, that's likely to be the scenario. I know this, but dammit if I just can't shake a habitual optimism that says somethings going to happen.

Dinner with Kiwis last night. Numbers are assembling for the All Whites vs Mexico game at the Rose Bowl next month. Excellent.
Good to feel part of a wide eyed clutch of Kiwis in the same boat. Stink to fill in audition sign in form and next to 'name' is 'are you currently legally entitled to work in the U.S.' A big NO in that column must really put you to the top of the list

I have nothing on tomorrow, so planning to take my car somewhere where I can go for a run without having to stop for lights every 5 minutes. Like Venice Beach or Griffith Park. A good friend suggested I find something other than acting to occupy myself "so I don't go all nutty." Hmmm gonna have to work on that one. Without my vege plot to tend ...

Hope everyone is well. It's always sunny here. I've kind of only just noticed. But no one has clothes lines. The washer takes 5 Quarters. So does the dryer. Everything takes quarters. Damn quarters. I boil the pot on the stove for my 'bagged tea' cos no one has a jug in California. Cos no one has tea. A double shot small latte from starbucks is the closest i can get to a flat white so far. And $40 filled the whole tank up in my car! Oil crisis? Sheesh, Try living in Auckland. The water level in the loo is really high and I keep bumping into people on the street because the drive on the right rule seems to apply off-road too. Figured that one out finally today. Yield means Give Way, and at a 4 way intersection, you yield in order of who got there first! ha.

Hey you actors, you'll love this. This is a blog from a tv writer telling us how impossible it is to get work in this town...

http://kenlevine.blogspot.com/2010/02/guys-are-not-going-to-want-to-fk-her.html

G

Nikolai Guzov and the Ups and Downs

4.10pm and enjoying the safe-haven of home after a big morning.

I haven't written for a few days because I haven't wanted to bore you with the negative ramblings of an out of work actor.
Suffice to say my confidence took a bit of a dip and that of course Serena did get some of those ramblings anyway.

Feedback from my first audition was that it was pretty average and that I seemed too concerned with my accent and offered no interesting choices about the character. Words every actor loves to hear. My enterprising agent rang to tell me and to set me up with a russian acting coach to help me find my mojo again. I rang Nikolai and the only time he had available was 8.15am the next morning over the hills and far away, with my next audition the opposite direction in the afternoon. Naturally. And when you're taking the bus, that's a 6am start ladies and gents. (Those who have lived with me, shut the hell up, I can see you smirking!)

Nikolai Guzov (http://guzovactingstudio.com/index_files/Page370.htm) is a busy man. He sees a lot of actors. He was brilliant.
He sized me up pretty quickly and told me he had nothing he could teach me about acting in 45 minutes. But he laid out for me how auditions work over here, what I was doing wrong, and how to approach them from here on in. What follows is Nikolai's advice in a nutshell. This will get a little boring for the non-actors, you may wanna skip a paragraph here ...

NIKOLAI SAYS ...
In New Zealand there are how many actors? In your city?
Gareth - "Ummmm... 300 registered Equity members. Probably 200 in Auckland, when I go for a role there's probably 30 submissions. The A-list maybe 10-15 actors. 5 recalled tops."
Okay. Listen to me now. There are 300-000 actors here. Maybe 15-000 have representation. 3000 actors seen per project.It's a cattle market. Do not expect to be treated with any kind of respect. There are 50 other guys who are as good as you, and look like you or better looking. Let it go. You have an advantage with a manager. In the horse race you have a jockey riding you, that;'s good. Casting directors are filters. Shit filters. They have no power, but think they have a lot. You are in their element, their office, you have to make it your element. Your space. You are trained and accomplished, but this is american t.v now. You have broken your script up into beats, no no no. There are no beats. No objectives. This is all to complicated. This script is all information to get across. Process on the lines, don't pause and think. It's not film. Verbs. What are you doing here? Reprimanding him? Good, Just do that. Nothing else. Engage the casting director. They're a weird bunch. They may be a 50 year old gay man, or a 26 year old hottie. Either way, bring them ito the scene, Reprimand them or whatever, and they will forget about your accent or what they're having for lunch. Simple simple simple. There is one turning point in the scene. That is your beat. You are thinking too much. Let it go. Most U.S actors are into their 'method' and bring pre-meditated performances. Don't fall into this trap. PLay verbs, strongly, and stay relaxed and open to surprise yourself. Make it real for yourself, it will feel real for them. A lot of Kiwi's and Aussies learn their lines. Fine. But hold onto the script, don't let them think this is your polished final perfromance. It's just a read. Don't look for any chemistry or anything from the Casting Director. They aren't actors. Play strong verbs, make them your scene partner. Most of all, this is just a pre-read. It's to see what you look like, whether your voice matches your look, whether you're complete rubbish or not. If you score in all those things and are even a little bit what they're looking for then you get a call-back to prove it wasn't a fluke. Then you give them acting. Let it go.

So, there's a stream of consciousness of what I have running round my head. Phew!
So the afternoon, sure enough, surrounded by guys mostly better looking and bigger built versions of me I took Nikolai's ideas into my pre-read and was 10 times better. Got told I was a lovely actor and had a great accent by weird casting directors. All I needed to bounce me back up to full confidence. well ... that a great pep talk/email from Serena. I'm taking her advice too and just knuckling down on my accent work and remembering what my first auditions out of drama school were like. Terrifying!

I remember when I first started working in front of the camera, how I enjoyed feeling like I was back at square one. All the theatre work stood me good stead but it was a whole new ball game. I'm reminded of that feeling now. I know I have the goods, the work I have done stands me in good stead. I'm just learning to play a whole new ball game. It's going to take a bit of mastering it before I can really apply my skills.

Right, I have to scripts to not overwork, a pilot to read socks to pull up and dinner with some kiwis in a few hours.
Sorry for boring the non actors and for the overly liberal use of the comma, I just can't help myself.
Thanks for staying with me.

G