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I step out of my car with my headshots and sides in hand and walk down the block. I look up and see the famed HOLLYWOOD sign nestled in the hills, asserting its presence even through the hazy clouds that have completely blotted out the sun on this gray day. With that sight looming over me, I’m immediately struck by where I am and what I’m doing at that very moment. I’m in Los Angeles, the city of dreams, on my way to my first big film audition. I always was a late bloomer.
If this were a real, honest to goodness fairy tale, this would’ve been the part where I tell you that I packed up my entire life and flew to New York to attend the prestigious Film Institute. There, I was discovered by a director and landed the lead role in an epic trilogy. I would also tell you about my magazine feature as the next up and coming star, whirlwind promotional tour around the world, and my first walk down the red carpet. By this time, I would have also hooked up with the film director who discovered me because we all know relationships between actors never work out and that you’re much better off taking your chances on someone behind the scenes. If this were a fairy tale, that’s what I’d tell you, but when has my life ever been a fairy tale?
All the air whooshed out of my lungs when Chloe Dillon announced sixteen-year-old Sarah Jane as winner of the acting conservatory scholarship in New York City. After I won the adult division, I actually believed I had a chance. Tears of disappointment pricked at the back of my eyes, but I blinked them back as that beautiful, talented child accepted her $31,000 award. I had already googled what it would cost to send myself there if I didn’t win.
It may not be the fairy tale ending I had cautiously hoped for, but I didn’t make out so bad. I’m living the not as glamorous as everyone thinks yet entirely fulfilling life of a struggling actor. I got callbacks from two agencies in San Diego. The one I signed with introduced me to an agent in Los Angeles, who also signed me. For every yes I get, there are at least ten rejections. I may have gotten a late start, but according to my agents, I’m good or else they would have never signed me—and really, that’s all I ever wanted to be.
I continue down Santa Monica Ave and pass a theatre with actor headshots posted in the window. In their eyes are the dreams and the hopes that they, like every other actor, carries inside of them and I see myself in their faces staring back at me. We slog our way through audition after audition, hoping to be one of the lucky ones who gets to make our job our passion, but we know how unlikely it is that it will actually happen.
I found a job working thirty hours per week giving people auto insurance quotes over the phone. My illustrious title is Quote Specialist. I was terrified to work in insurance again and I had a minor anxiety attack when I pulled up to the office on my first day. It reminded me way too much of Silver, but it’s totally different. I just give quotes and send them on their way. If they sign up and get in accident later, it’s not my problem.
My income is sewn together like a patchwork quilt from the call center, what I book between my agents, and modeling. I use that term loosely. Promotional modeling isn’t really modeling at all because I don’t care how you spin it, being paid to look pretty while you hand out key chains in a bar is not modeling—but the pay is decent, the work plentiful and I’m grateful to have it. When I show up for a job and fit into the outfit, I’m grateful for that too.
The glass doors are covered haphazardly with signs announcing auditions for various film projects. I open the door and find myself in a dimly lit foyer with a steep staircase leading to a second floor. I make my way up the creaky stairs and walk down the long dark hall to look for the sign in sheet that will announce my arrival. I sit in one of the battered chairs and read over my sides. One actress is pacing in uneven circles down the hallway, doing the same, and another sits in a chair, waiting her turn. A door opens and a female who looks sort of like me comes out while the one waiting in the chair goes in. That feeling of taking up too much space is still there. I unconsciously suck in my belly and curiously glance at her without wanting her to know I’m looking. I get the feeling she’s doing the same to me. It’s hard not to—after all, she’s my competition.
When it’s my turn, the director comes out and shakes my hand. In I go. I’m not nervous. I’ve practiced my lines, I know them by heart and I feel as prepared as I can be. Inside is a small room with theatre like seating and a small stage at the front. A video camera set up on a tri pod faces the stage, so I immediately know where my mark will be. I hand him my headshot and wait for instructions. I’m told to slate my name, age range, and role first, then they give me a bit of a background on the scene. They have provided an actor who will read with me. After my slate, I walk to one side of the room and wait for my cue. Action... and so I begin. I slip into another character and imagine what I think she would be at each moment. I want this character’s emotions to show on my face and project in my tone of voice. There are two scenes, and I’m glad the director has allowed me to do each one twice. After each scene, he gives some feedback and we repeat the scene with me hoping that I’ve made the requested adjustments. After we’re done, I thank the other actor, and the director thanks me for coming. He says, “I’ll be in touch,” and I wonder if he really means it.
I retrace my steps down the dark hall. My mind is already replaying every moment of the audition in my head, second guessing every choice I made in the scene, every tone, every line and hoping that it was enough. I didn’t miss a single line and I know I did the best I could. Being right for the part is not my decision, but as long as I did my best, I can walk away and feel okay with that. As I exit the building, another hopeful walks in.
I hurriedly make my way back to my car for the long drive back home, already dreading the grind of bumper-to-bumper traffic on highway five. I’ll have to stop for coffee to stay awake, but it gives me plenty of time to think about where I’m at, where I might be going and the people I met along the way.
Callie is young, so she might get another chance, but her mother was furious with Chloe Dillon for selling lies and setting Callie up for disappointment. At her insistence, Callie has to let the dream go for now. For the time being, she’s hanging out with her friends at the mall and focusing on school.
Molly’s one agency call back turned out to not even be a real agency. Chloe Dillon was very apologetic that they were invited after Molly informed them of the disastrous meeting where they tried to charge her one hundred dollars per month to be part of their online talent database. She was devastated but oddly calm about the whole thing. She said she always figured that Mindy would make it and she wouldn’t, so she’d been mentally preparing herself for it all along. She thought for sure her dream was over, but by some twist of fate, there was a casting director at Agency Day who was interested in her for a play he was casting in New York. She didn’t get the part, but he referred her to agencies that were interested so she decided to take a huge leap of faith and move out there. Mindy wanted her in Los Angeles, but Molly was ready to step out of Mindy’s shadow and forge her own path.
“Things really can’t get much worse. I have nothing to lose,” she told us. She really didn’t—and sometimes that’s when change really happens. Molly got a theatrical agent and was cast as the lead in an off, off Broadway play. She’s making peanuts, but it got her into the Actors Equity Association and she can say she’s an actress in The Big Apple. I should be so lucky.
I turn up the volume on my radio to help fight the monotony of inching along on the freeway. I don’t get a free day between auditions and work. I’m exhausted, constantly on the go, and never know exactly when I’m getting my next paycheck, but despite the long drive, I love the challenge of auditions and I even love the little two bit jobs I get doing infomercials and industrial videos that nobody is ever going to see.
The next day, I get a call back, and I’m equal parts excited and dismayed that I’ll have to make the long drive up to Los Angeles again so soon. I’m still in the running, which is good, but I know it’s a long shot. I’m not the only girl hoping for this role. I’ve already been on what feels like a million auditions and if I’m lucky, I’ll go on a million more because we’re all just one dream audition away from our big break that may never come.
