Tuesday, December 11, 2012

Get Your Butt To LA, Part 50: Take My Readers To Work Day.

Silver lining for the people of Syria: you get to be on “The Newsroom” in two years!

And enjoy it. It’s by far my favorite show, written by my favorite-by-far writer, Aaron Sorkin. So when my agent called a couple Fridays ago to let me know I had an audition for it, my wang almost skipped a beat.

And just after I hung up with her, she called again, this time with an audition for a sitcom pilot. Two big auditions, a half hour apart. Game on.

I spent the weekend preparing myself for Big Monday, running the scenes over and over with my friend Ariel. (We coach each other for all of our auditions, and video them so we get ourselves perfect on camera.) And I mapped out what was going to be a tricky bit of execution: a meeting in the Marina, followed by two closely-timed auditions.

When Monday came, I was locked in. The meeting lasted 90 minutes, and then I raced to “The Newsroom” audition, changed into a suit in the street, and headed in. The waiting area was a converted dressing room, with headshots of the entire cast pinned to the walls, along with blueprints of the set. Actors paced as they waited their turn. I was called in, and I relaxed and did my job, doing everything I’d prepared with the awesome but tricky and fast Sorkin dialogue.

As you leave an audition, you’ll always know definitively whether you did well or not. And I felt very good, but there was no time to assess – I had minutes to get to the pilot audition.

My 40-pound right foot came in handy, and I made it to the next casting office with blazing speed, found parking, changed my shirt and put on a tie, using the my car window as a mirror. I took the creaky old-timey elevator up to the office, had a minute to catch my breath, and then was called into the room. This being a sitcom, I charmed it up before I began, making a crack to the casting directors about peeing my pants (it went over well), and knew I was in the zone.

And the next day, my agent called. I had a callback for the pilot, and “The Newsroom” had put me on “avail,” meaning I was one of two choices for the role. I kissed Ricky on the mouth.

The day after that, I did my thing at the callback, felt great but didn’t book the pilot, and Aaron Sorkin wound up choosing the other actor over me. Sure, I was left stranded at third, but I’ll take hitting two triples any day.

And I’ll take a Monday like that any time. And there’ll be many more, and I’ll be on the winning side sometimes, and there’s no better feeling than that. The right thing will happen at the right time. And when it does, you know the drill: champagne for my real friends; real pain for my sham friends.