Unscripted - A Blog for Actors - Backstage

Bored... but wait, I DID shoot a pilot, didn't I...?

Does this happen to any other nutbagger but me?  Whenever I feel something is going extremely slow... auditions, fresh-out-of-the-salmon-bag opportunity ... it is, from a supremely objective standpoint, going the exact opposite direction I feel like it is.  Like a boat in a Poe-esque decent-into-maelstrom.

A few moments ago, I recevied email from the ever-wonderful Peter Hurley (ah yes, that guy) with a first-look copy of a pilot that was shot based on his life and trials as a fashion photographer.  Clocking back to Spring of this year -- the exact same day, in fact, that I was chased into Macy's by a small, droll-like bald man asking me if he could purchase me shoes -- I hooked up with magic Hurley and was invovled in the shooting of this project.  Totally forgot about it until twelve seconds ago.

So while I've been bemoaning the economy, the production trickles, etcetera-boring-etcetera... kicking my own butt and waiting for things to pick up... I've shot two pilots, and might just squeeze in a third before Christmas rolls around.  So why do I still feel listless and useless?!  Insert inward growl of wonderment here.

-- Ashley Avis

IMDB Stalking = Agent Meeting

Back on the agent prowl.  I feel like a half-maimed cougar who's had too much brandy, attempting to navigate the forest slightly intoxicated.  "Heeere... (burp) deerrr... c'meeeere (burp burp) deeeer..."

Okay, a little wacky tonight, I apologize.  Thank goodness for Fabulous Manager, who's leading the path with her oil light of genie amazingness and setting up meetings on both coasts.  (Not really)  delightfully, I have to go down to Florida for six days as soon as we begin hunting... but, eh, what can a week hurt.  Two meetings in L.A. toward the end of September, as well one in New York when I get back next week.  Interestingly, the Manhattan office contacted her.  That's never happened before.

Worker's Comp

New lesson for any Union shoot - ALWAYS ask what sort of insurance they have.  You may think they have insurance...it may say in your contract that the production has insurance...but this simply does not mean anything.  I was badly injured on my SAG ULB shoot, and I learned that the only insurance they had was liability.  So that means that anybody who was NOT onset and NOT employed by  the production company was covered in the event of an accident. For instance, if we were filming a high-speed chase and we went off-course and hit an innocent bystander - they would be covered.  But, if the lead actress injured herself doing a scene onset...she's out of luck. 

Near-Death by DELTA.

Yay for windows falling off an airplane.

Just landed in Tampa to surprise my little brother for his 18th birthday, and was thoroughly convinced for about an hour and a half, that -- grand-ass miracle pending -- I was going to plummet to my death in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico.  The effort I made sneaking in my second Personal Item would have simply washed away in carefully airbagged waste.  Sweet tragedy!

I did not die, however [to my lovely Stalker's chagrin] and am presently waiting for good old Polish Mom to pick me up from the Delta terminal so we can doubly confuse and delight the younger offspring in the family.  I can't wait to see him, the rest of my family, and take a much needed break from all of the newly bicoastal traveling insanity... plus my suddenly booming little online business (thank goodness for not having to work in a bar).  There's no better place to escape from the world (read: perpetual and near-ineludable electronic client communication) than a cruise ship.  I'm about to float away for three days via forced relaxation and a plethora of doubly charged Mojitos. 

And -- for goodness sake -- do some reading.  I re-started Look Homeward, Angel (Thomas Wolfe) on the [first] plane today [before] a minor panic attack [via] half-window falling OUT of the plane, and I'm feeling a creative recharge starting.  Excited for rest, and for September in Los Angeles.  If I can survive another Delta-inspired fiasco... is the economy really that bad?

-- Ashley Avis

I Committed

I filmed a scene in a basement where I was trying to find my way out. I had been locked down there by a stalker who believed we were in love.  He had changed my clothes, my jewelry...and had been drugging me for six days.  He had forced a wedding ring on my ring finger.
 
It was the last take in the basement and I had to go to the basement window in the hopes of getting some passerby's attention. Before the take began, I looked at my director. "Can I pull out the boards?," I asked.  "No," he replied, "they'll fall down too easily." "Can I climb on the sink?"  He said, "Yes."  "Can I bang on the windows?"  "Yes."

Senior-itis

Senior-itis is a close friend of mine; it plagued me from junior high until I graduated high school.  On high school graduation day (pictured!), as my classmates cried and took photos and promised never to forget the best days of their lives, I sat under a tree with my friend Jordan thanking the Good Lord that we'd never have to do that again.

I can even remember in elementary school, wishing I was in middle school so I could play in the band....in middle school wishing I was in junior high so I could try out for the dance team....in junior high wishing I was in high school so I could audition for plays....and in high school dreaming of being at conservatory so I could study my craft.  It wasn't until I began at UNCSA that the persistent feeling of needing to be somewhere else left me.  Finally, I found somewhere I belonged. 

...And Thanks For All The Fish!

My job at Unscripted has ended.  I'm proud to have been one of the first bloggers here and that my stay has been so long.  I will miss this community and the experience, but change is needed - happy change - on both sides.  I have learned so much, felt a real growth with my writing and made some wonderful friends. 

September always feels like a new start, so this timing is perfect.  This past summer has been a very strange and wonderful coming-around of sorts for myself.  It's the start of my second decade here in this city.  I am in the black for the first time of my adult life.  Just when I worried I'd never be on stage ever again - I did a wonderful show.  I've had more fun and met more new people than I could have imagined.  I've also reconnected with some long-lost, dearly cherished pals, and I CUT MY HAIR!

Yawn. Double yawn.

That's what I just did. I thought it'd just be a single yawn. Then I was snuck up on by another yawn, a bigger, angrier yawn, a double yawn. That's what happens when you sit on a couch, in front of a computer during a rainy Saturday in Brooklyn. Yawns, followed by a need to take a shower and then go work at a bar for 10-12 hours.

    Lately when people ask me what I do, acting is the last thing on the list, I usually add - "I act when people pay me to do it." Which is somewhat true, unless it's a project of my own or one of my friends. Lately no one has been paying me to do it. Which is problematic. But not in a big, serious way, in more of a 'It'd be nice if people paid me more often to act' kind of way.

Pissed Off, Or: Wisdom Is In The Eye Of The Beholder

As my light continues to fade here... I wanted to take one of my last (for now) opportunities to speak in a public forum to share an important message with all my sisters out there... all the wonderful women of the world.  And that is: Please sit your ass down when you pee in a public restroom.  For the love of god.  It's people like you who spray all over the seat and make a mess.  (You will not get sick and die from a toilet seat, I promise.)  And what's worse is you are also urinating all over yourself and your clothes.  That's just nasty.  I have seen it.  I have even had someone else's spray splatter my foot from the stall next door.  SIT.  DOWN.  Have some class.

And now, with that delicate matter out of the way... I was just reminded last night of one of my favorite theatre stories of all time...

The Wild Card

Like I said I've been busy. Auditions are abound and consistent. I've gotten used to running around town what with all my 'jobs'. And aside from the flat tire I had last week, things have been rolling along.

I've had house guests all summer and will continue to have house guests all the way up through the fall. And with all this spiritual massage work I'm getting done, I feel great! This brings me to my current blog.

They say one of the most important things you must know about yourself as an actor particularly in Los Angeles is your type.

And by type they don't mean what you see yourself as, but what others see you as upon meeting you; your foremost energy, which is why it's so important to have it cleared and focused.

I have been told that I have a naturally authoritative tone in my voice and energy that often teems off of me stronger than my Dior Pure Poison. I'll take that as a compliment. I really just want to be saved!

Just kidding.

I am often cast as the independent woman type. The Lawyer type. The Public School Figure Type. The Business Woman type.The Sexy but tough Bartender type. The disagreeable woman with an emotional catharsis on her shoulder type. 

Every once in a while the quirky med student type and most recently the young female Iraq war vet who can kick serious ass type. I likey.