A Day in the Life: The Audition Grind

an average day at the office

As a very young, struggling actor just starting out in the business, the first thing you learn is that your job is not to act. Acting is a job perk. Your job is to audition.

Five hours a day, Monday through Friday, auditioning is just like having any other job, with one exception. You don't get paid.

So here's how it works. Over the weekend, you log onto that handy dandy Backstage account you paid a $160 yearly subscription to, and you schedule your week ahead. Scour the site for non-union open calls, and send out your headshot and resume to several projects, hoping you can get an appointment for later than 10 a.m.

Several hours later, you have your entire week planned. You know which auditions to go to, which 16-bar-cuts you're going to dazzle them with, and hope to God you make it to the callbacks so you can do that awesome monologue you've been working on.

The week at the office begins.

Monday morning alarms are set for 6:00 a.m. This gives you an hour and a half to do your hair, throw together your audition bag, get something good to eat, and try not to let the vampires of despair get to you before the audition begins.

You head out to the train with a cup of tea, vocalizing ever-so-subtly as other passengers roll their eyes. You arrive at the audition studio when it opens, at 8:00 a.m. and write your name down on a list with fifteen other girls who have been here since six. Those are the dedicated ones.

5:00 a.m. at Chelsea Studios, lucky enough to be allowed to wait inside for the building to open.

You take as long as you possibly can to put on makeup that makes you look alive. When you've finished, you settle in and wait for at least an hour until the audition monitor shows up to take your headshots and resumes, which you have fifteen copies of in your bag.

It is now 10:00 a.m. and the audition is finally beginning. The entire production team has finally shown up, they're all sitting behind their nice white table with a fresh cup of coffee in their hands, and they are ready to crush the dreams of the 300 girls sitting in the holding room.

The Cinderella Nonunion National Tour had over 300 girls in line before 10 a.m.

A lot of work has gone into this final moment. You've already spent hours on your hair and makeup. You've spent hundreds of dollars on headshots and resumes. You've spent years putting together your gargantuan audition book of music.  And you've agonized endlessly over which outfit was right for this audition.

And now, you walk in with confidence, smile at the directors, point out your cut with grace and charm, and SING.

"Thank you."

Less than a minute later, you're back outside with the other girls, praying that they liked you, knowing that they've probably already forgotten.

Now you're off to your day job, to make barely enough to pay your bills so that you can get up the next morning and do it all over again.

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It's the best job in the world. It's the hardest job in the world. Not everyone can do it, but everyone sure tries. It takes a heart of steel to get through the endless rejections, and high endurance to get through the physical and mental stress of running around from place to place each day.

But it just takes one. One director. One day. One song. One moment.

And that's what keeps you going. Knowing that one day, you're going to be the one they call for that job. And you're gonna book it.  And then everything you've been through up to that point will seem silly, because you've finally got that job.

For a little while, anyway. Then it's back to the audition grind all over again.

Love Always,
Little Me