About a month and a half into living as a working actress, making a couple of hundred dollars a week and letting my boyfriend support me financially, I finally break down.
There are a lot of things about life as a working actor that break people down. For most people, it's the rejection. It's constantly feeling like you're not good enough. For some people, it's the frustration of knowing that you are good enough, and nobody gives a shit.
I can deal with both those things. What finally got me last night was something different entirely.
In February The Boyfriend and I moved into a gorgeous one-bedroom apartment in Brooklyn. My half of the rent is more than I was paying for my Queens studio apartment, but in February I had a steady job, making enough money to pay rent and keep up with my student loans, and still have money to put away in savings. Good for me.
But now, in this performance job that I ADORE, I'm barely making enough money to pay the rent. It's only thanks to my generous parents, a NY Lottery commercial and the payout from a class-action lawsuit that i forgot to opt out of that I've made it through July.
The Boyfriend, however, cheerfully tells me, "Don't worry about it, baby. I get paid tomorrow." And I love him, but the fact that HE has enough money to pay OUR rent does not make me feel better. WE should have enough money to pay OUR rent.
Nobody ever told me that the hardest shit to deal with in this life was going to be the Financial Aspect of it, and I call Shenanigans.
Why isn't that ever on an episode of Smash? Huh, Telsey? Why doesn't Karen Carpenter have her credit card declined trying to buy macaroni and cheese at a Duane Reade at 2 o'clock in the morning?
So last night I spilled fucking water on my fucking iPhone again. I am the biggest dick on the planet, and no one should ever give me anything worth over $50, because I will ruin it. Spoiler Alert: my phone is fine, I got it in rice right away and it only had a little bit spilled on it in the first place. But in my haste to rip open the rice bag, it exploded potato-chip-style all over the floor of the kitchen, and then I spent the next hour and a half crying. Like, snot-pouring-down-the-front-of-my-face, Irish-funeral-keening. The Boyfriend hugged me as I hyperventilated, and once I'd calmed down I went into the living room and fired off an email to Best Friend Cate.
As previously mentioned, Best Friend Cate is an incredibly talented writer, who moved to Poughkeepsie when her boyfriend got a teaching job there. And she spent the first six months there living much like I am living now. Shitty job, not enough money, being supported by someone else, all the while with all this talent inside her, just waiting to be discovered.
To say her response made me feel better would be underselling it completely.
"You're doing everything you're supposed to be doing," she said, "and shit--you're only in the financial situation you're in because you took a chance on a job that is going to move your REAL career forward... You chose to work in a field where nobody gives a shit about you... You chose this--years of people not giving a shit, and having to balance the non-shit-giving with paychecks so that you can survive until people do give a shit... It's slow. It's called our twenties. We can't all be Lena Dunham.
"BUT look at Christina Hendricks. Maybe I'm biased, since she's the first woman I've ever wanted to motorboat, Vince-Vaughan-style, but she's in her mid-thirties and her career is only now taking off... Total nerd girl, too. She paid her dues. Am I saying it will take you another 8 years to get there? No. But it might.
"I love you. Hang in there. Remember that a big part of this is the transition period. It pulls you under."
Seriously everybody is being so fucking supportive it makes me want to throw up. In a good way.
So here is the part where I try to turn this incredibly depressing blog entry into an inspirational cry to action, whoopie. Perhaps I should include some quote about perseverance or never giving up or whatever. But instead I think I'll end with a message to myself.
Dear McNally,
Calm the fuck down. It's hard. It's supposed to be hard. If it wasn't, everyone would do it.
And yes, that was paraphrased from A League of Their Own.
Stop whining. If you're so worried about money, get a second job already.
Kaboom.
Friday, July 27, 2012
Monday, July 9, 2012
Space Captain: Captain of Space
Yes boys and girls, it's that time again! Rehearsals for Space Captain start this month!
I think it's the funniest we've done. It's based on the old Flash Gordon serials from the 1930s. The really old ones, before the movie with the Queen song.
Space Captain is the fourth full-length show I've done with No Tea Productions, a small New York theater company that adopted me into its ranks three years ago after I played the title role in "Poppycock." (The title role was a woman named "Poppy," get your mind out of the gutter)
My invitation to become a resident actor with the company came at one of the founder's 80's-themed birthday party while doing shots of Jack Daniels and wearing artfully ripped T-shirts, side ponytails and a green fuzzy snap-bracelet, which I still have.
How do you say no to that?
Lindsey and Jeff, the couple that founded No Tea in 2007, are two of the coolest people I know. Their mission statement is to produce quality original comedies that so far have been written and developed by members of the company. I've attended the weekly writer's meetings myself, and wrote a short one-act that was performed by company members as part of a night of scenes resulting from those workshops.
The shows are good. They really are. Not only are they funny, but they're meaningful and original in thought and concept. And the people in the company are some of the sweetest, and most down-to-Earth theatre people I know.
In addition to being invited into the company of actors, after my first show with No Tea, I was even invited to Lindsey and Jeff's wedding!
The most astounding thing about this company is that Lindsey, Jeff, Jeremy (the Technical Director) and all of the other designers and crew pay for everything out of their own pockets. They never make their money back and I doubt they even break even most of the time. And this show is CRAZY AMBITIOUS.
It's multimedia, with video, live action and puppets, and thus much more expensive than any of the other shows they've done.
And so, they've set up an IndieGoGo fundraising page in order to help them make back some of the money that they are already spending to cover the costs of materials, performance and rehearsal space, etc.
I STRONGLY urge you to donate to this campaign. All the time and money and sweat and tears that these people have spent on previous shows have been given freely, just for the love of making theatre. The show will get made whether or not they make their money, but I think they deserve to get a little back.
To donate, visit their IndieGoGo page.http://www.indiegogo.com/NoTeaProductions-SpaceCaptain
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
Squeaking By...
Every time I go use the coinstar machine at the Food Emporium on 43rd street, there is ALWAYS some manager's discarded clipboard on it. Like the people in that neighborhood never have the need to cash in the coins they've been hoarding for months on end in order to get the $65 cash to keep their bank account from overdrawing. So we might as well use it as furniture.
This time though, some guy came in right after me to cash in his coins. First time I've ever seen anyone else use that coinstar machine.
I gave him a little smile as I took my voucher, a kind of, "Glad to know I'm not the only one."
He shrugged.
Friday, June 15, 2012
Leap; The Net Will Follow
Week one of my lack of a Day Job is over, and though I have a start date for the New Job, I have spent the entire week at home, staring at the walls.
Most of the days have been productive. I've been submitting for background work everywhere I see a listing, and working on my website and my reel and my resume and all sorts of productive things. I put up a new Wall of Inspiration, like the collage I had up in my old apartment and managed to save most of.
I've made myself a sizable To-Do list and I've been ticking things off one by one. I've started putting together a database of Casting Directors of projects that I enjoy and would like to be a part of, so that I can start becoming more familiar with the names I see popping up in Backstage and Playbill.com.
I cleaned the CRAP out of the apartment.
I made a list of Open-Mics around the city.
I feel good. Except for at night, after The Boyfriend has drifted off to sleep and I can see my swiftly dwindling bank-account projected onto the ceiling above my bed.
A couple of the days have been bad. My super-supportive Dad, who has been self-employed and working out of a home office since I was in second grade, sent me an email with all the guidelines on How to be Successfully Self-Employed. Number One on the list is: Get Dressed.
Some days I did not get dressed.
I am far too much of an ambitious freak to enjoy a "vacation" of any kind. I've come to terms with this.
BUT today is a GOOD DAY.
Today I know when my first rehearsal is for the New Job, and today I booked background work for tomorrow! And even as I was text messaging Best Friend Jen to tell her I wouldn't be able to come with her to IKEA, I got a phone call and booked ANOTHER background job for Tuesday.
Today I only hit snooze TWICE and am totally aware that I am incredibly lucky to have such a supportive Boyfriend, Mother, Father, Brother, future Sister-in-Law, Best Friend Jen, Best Friend Cate, Ma and Popi and incredible professional colleagues such as Harmony Stempel, (who just mounted her One-Woman show in NYC) to inspire me.
Today is a good day.
Most of the days have been productive. I've been submitting for background work everywhere I see a listing, and working on my website and my reel and my resume and all sorts of productive things. I put up a new Wall of Inspiration, like the collage I had up in my old apartment and managed to save most of.I've made myself a sizable To-Do list and I've been ticking things off one by one. I've started putting together a database of Casting Directors of projects that I enjoy and would like to be a part of, so that I can start becoming more familiar with the names I see popping up in Backstage and Playbill.com.
I cleaned the CRAP out of the apartment.
I made a list of Open-Mics around the city.
I feel good. Except for at night, after The Boyfriend has drifted off to sleep and I can see my swiftly dwindling bank-account projected onto the ceiling above my bed.
A couple of the days have been bad. My super-supportive Dad, who has been self-employed and working out of a home office since I was in second grade, sent me an email with all the guidelines on How to be Successfully Self-Employed. Number One on the list is: Get Dressed.
Some days I did not get dressed.
I am far too much of an ambitious freak to enjoy a "vacation" of any kind. I've come to terms with this.
BUT today is a GOOD DAY.
Today I know when my first rehearsal is for the New Job, and today I booked background work for tomorrow! And even as I was text messaging Best Friend Jen to tell her I wouldn't be able to come with her to IKEA, I got a phone call and booked ANOTHER background job for Tuesday.
Today I only hit snooze TWICE and am totally aware that I am incredibly lucky to have such a supportive Boyfriend, Mother, Father, Brother, future Sister-in-Law, Best Friend Jen, Best Friend Cate, Ma and Popi and incredible professional colleagues such as Harmony Stempel, (who just mounted her One-Woman show in NYC) to inspire me.
Today is a good day.
Monday, June 11, 2012
The Day Job
In order to be an actress, you have to work in a restaurant.
Yeah, it seemed pretty ridiculous when I read it back to myself too. But for some reason it's just one of those things that everybody thinks. And for the most part, very true. The amount of people who would ask me as I cleared their empty plates, "Oh, are you an actress?" made me wish the answer was no.
But alas, I am the stereotype. Or at least I was.
How I Got the Job:
Fresh out of college, I worked at a summer camp for the first few months after graduation, while living at home with my parents. I was the musical theatre director for the Queens College summer program, and making about $400 a week, all of which was going into savings upon preparation for moving into my new apartment in August.
And then August came, and I moved in, and the summer ended and I didn't have a job yet. A girl I'd gone to school with worked as a hostess in a busy Times Square restaurant and offered to get me a job there. Two days later I was hired, my first day of training was a double, and I stayed there for 5 years.
5 years is a long time. And I wasn't doing the same thing for that whole time. Sure I started out as a hostess, making just enough money to wrack up a $2,000 credit card bill on monthly MetroCards alone, but eventually I moved up the ranks, and by the end I was a pretty big deal.
But still, 5 years at the same place, doing the same thing over and over again takes its toll. Almost every year I had a night where I threw my hands up in despair, came home and searched CraigsList for a new job. But ultimately, I decided, what was the difference between getting fed up at this place as at any other place?
5 years is a long time. And that same five years has been filled with my trying to build a successful acting career; With rejections and tiny victories. Shows have opened and closed and been cancelled due to lack of funds. I have spent money on train tickets to do film for nothing more than food and a copy that I never saw because nobody ever fucking finishes anything. I realized a long time ago that I do not have the ideal temperament for the life of an actor. I have so many actor friends who float from job to job and apartment to apartment, never really sure of how much money is going to be in their bank accounts at the end of the month and not really caring either way.
I don't do that. I lie awake staring at the ceiling going through elaborate scenarios in my head of What Will Happen If I Don't Pay the Cable Bill On Time. The cable guy comes. He laughs at me. They take away my TV and I forever have a black mark on my Time Warner permanent record and am never allowed the option of DVR service again. Then someone punches me in the face and I die.
5 years is a long time. But in that time, The Job was a stable, unifying thing in my life. I always knew what to expect, I had a regular schedule and people that I could switch with, and managers who counted on me to be responsible to do the right thing. I succeeded, and I climbed the ladder, and I really saw that there might be a future for me in the world of restaurant management. If this acting thing fails, I think I might have a bright career in the Hospitality Industry.
And you know what?
Wait for it...
FUCK that.
A few Wednesdays ago I had an audition. For a job that pays. And I got it. The next day I put in my two weeks.
It's not the title role in Evita; I don't even know if I'll be making enough money to live. I don't know if I'll have to get a part time job to still make rent and pay bills and eat everyday. But I don't care. Because though in the past 5 years The Job has been a shining star and the only stable thing in my life that I had besides my boyfriend and my cats, there has been many a time when I've looked at a casting and said, "I can't audition for that. It rehearses on Saturdays. I WORK on Saturdays."
From now on, for as long as I can, I am a full-time actor. If I have to do background work every day off I have for ten hours, a donut and a $75 check that doesn't come in the mail until 6 months later, it will be worth it just to say that I am doing what I want to do.
I have had a great time at my restaurant for the past 5 years. I've made wonderful friends and learned lovely lessons and pigged out on some serious chicken parm...
But I'm out.
Yeah, it seemed pretty ridiculous when I read it back to myself too. But for some reason it's just one of those things that everybody thinks. And for the most part, very true. The amount of people who would ask me as I cleared their empty plates, "Oh, are you an actress?" made me wish the answer was no.
But alas, I am the stereotype. Or at least I was.
How I Got the Job:
Fresh out of college, I worked at a summer camp for the first few months after graduation, while living at home with my parents. I was the musical theatre director for the Queens College summer program, and making about $400 a week, all of which was going into savings upon preparation for moving into my new apartment in August.
And then August came, and I moved in, and the summer ended and I didn't have a job yet. A girl I'd gone to school with worked as a hostess in a busy Times Square restaurant and offered to get me a job there. Two days later I was hired, my first day of training was a double, and I stayed there for 5 years.
5 years is a long time. And I wasn't doing the same thing for that whole time. Sure I started out as a hostess, making just enough money to wrack up a $2,000 credit card bill on monthly MetroCards alone, but eventually I moved up the ranks, and by the end I was a pretty big deal.
But still, 5 years at the same place, doing the same thing over and over again takes its toll. Almost every year I had a night where I threw my hands up in despair, came home and searched CraigsList for a new job. But ultimately, I decided, what was the difference between getting fed up at this place as at any other place?
5 years is a long time. And that same five years has been filled with my trying to build a successful acting career; With rejections and tiny victories. Shows have opened and closed and been cancelled due to lack of funds. I have spent money on train tickets to do film for nothing more than food and a copy that I never saw because nobody ever fucking finishes anything. I realized a long time ago that I do not have the ideal temperament for the life of an actor. I have so many actor friends who float from job to job and apartment to apartment, never really sure of how much money is going to be in their bank accounts at the end of the month and not really caring either way.
I don't do that. I lie awake staring at the ceiling going through elaborate scenarios in my head of What Will Happen If I Don't Pay the Cable Bill On Time. The cable guy comes. He laughs at me. They take away my TV and I forever have a black mark on my Time Warner permanent record and am never allowed the option of DVR service again. Then someone punches me in the face and I die.
5 years is a long time. But in that time, The Job was a stable, unifying thing in my life. I always knew what to expect, I had a regular schedule and people that I could switch with, and managers who counted on me to be responsible to do the right thing. I succeeded, and I climbed the ladder, and I really saw that there might be a future for me in the world of restaurant management. If this acting thing fails, I think I might have a bright career in the Hospitality Industry.
And you know what?
Wait for it...
FUCK that.
A few Wednesdays ago I had an audition. For a job that pays. And I got it. The next day I put in my two weeks.
It's not the title role in Evita; I don't even know if I'll be making enough money to live. I don't know if I'll have to get a part time job to still make rent and pay bills and eat everyday. But I don't care. Because though in the past 5 years The Job has been a shining star and the only stable thing in my life that I had besides my boyfriend and my cats, there has been many a time when I've looked at a casting and said, "I can't audition for that. It rehearses on Saturdays. I WORK on Saturdays."
From now on, for as long as I can, I am a full-time actor. If I have to do background work every day off I have for ten hours, a donut and a $75 check that doesn't come in the mail until 6 months later, it will be worth it just to say that I am doing what I want to do.
I have had a great time at my restaurant for the past 5 years. I've made wonderful friends and learned lovely lessons and pigged out on some serious chicken parm...
But I'm out.
Peace.
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