Sunday, July 1, 2012


I have decided that there is far too much legal work in this world...or at least, that I'M doing far too much of it.

I have just spent four straight days at that damn legal office, because no film or TV show had the good taste to cast me.  It damn near killed me.

There is a perfectly good reason why I no longer work 9 to 5, which is; I HATE IT.  I hate the sameness of it, I hate the office politics of it (although given the size of this particular law office, we don't actually have any), and I absolutely hate going to bed every night knowing that I have to go to the same damn place tomorrow.  Now kindly remember that these are not the ravings of a Gen-Xer with a whole different agenda for life.  These are the ravings of someone who out of necessity lived the corporate life for WAY too long.

I love acting, even if it is background work, which, if you are realistic about it, is basically, as I've said before, being human furniture.  Thing is, though, if you're an actor, you can act it.  Even if your day is spent, as so many of mine are, walking back and forth, you can imagine WHY you might be walking back and forth.  You can make a nice little acting exercise out of it to keep your skills working.  For instance, when we're working out on the actual Boardwalk set, remember that I'm cast as lower class.  So put yourself there.  Your life, in the 1920s, is drudgery.  You probably have three or four children, a husband who makes very little money, a house in which you can't afford even the rudimentary labor-saving devices that were available then.   You probably huddle over a coal stove on winter nights, and that's probably what you cook on, too.  When your children get sick, you certainly can't afford a doctor, so you try to cure them with the family remedies handed down from your grandmother...castor oil, mustard plasters, hot and cold compresses.  You don't have pretty clothes.  Maybe you have one dress kept for "best"...and it has to last a LONG time.  You usually only wear it to church on Sunday.  Food is a constant struggle...both being able to afford it and then cooking it on that coal stove.

Now imagine that you get a day when you can go to THE BOARDWALK!  Without the kids!  Look at those lights!  Oh, look at all those rich women in their beautiful clothes, and the men in their elegant suits!  And the shops!  You can't possibly ever think you could buy anything in those windows, but you can look and dream, and it's free!  And maybe...if you've been VERY careful with the housekeeping can buy a piece of saltwater taffy.  Bliss...utter and complete bliss.

And this is what you do with a long, long day tromping up and down with your feet hurting in those goddamn vintage shoes.  And this is how you act.

Love, Wendy


Carolyn said...

Whoa! I've always felt fortunate, but never really, REALLY fortunate until now. Well written! (And you're not even old enough to actually know what you're talking about, so: well imagined also.)

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