Desperate Housewives

I don’t recall the last time I worked on a soundstage on the Universal Lot. I recall Where The Truth Lies when I almost drove through the Red Sea…twice…and then hung out on the lawn of the Back To The Future clock tower. But that’s totally different than working on a stage.

However, I was lucky this time…I immediately found the correct gate and then surprisingly enough, there were plenty of empty parking spaces in the structure–unlike last week on Twins on the CBS lot.

And then the stage was right across the street from the structure. Talk about easy as cake! Although, I do think it’s fun when I can’t find the stage and end up taking a tour of the whole lot before I find wherever I’m supposed to be like when I was on Everybody Hates Chris.

On this gig, the hardest thing for me to find was the bathroom–one building over and down a set of stairs that weren’t very clearly marked. Ah well. Now I know and I hope I get more work on that lot. During lunch, I found the comisary, but didn’t go in. I sat out front for a whole hour while yacking with Jen on my cell phone. Thankfully, craft service on Desperate Housewives kicks ass!!!! The food wasn’t just good, it was plentiful, too.

Anyhow, there were only six extras on the call. That was refreshing. We were all cool people to talk to.

I know a lot of you are reading this in hope of some good gossip or even a spoiler or two, but I’m sorry, I’ve got very little. I spent all but a half hour of my day in holding. All I saw was one character being let out of jail and I don’t really know who she is because I don’t watch the show (Yes, I live under a rock and haven’t seen the number one show on TV).

I know, I know…you’re in the show vicariously through my posts here, but I’ve brought you nothing this time. That’s how I felt, too, during hour after hour after boring-as-hell hour, knowing I’m on the biggest show in the USA, knowing that Jen loves it and was dying for something good and all I saw was about three seconds of action. Sorry. I mean, I didn’t even part the Red Sea, get a flat tire, get rescued by a movie star, wave at tourists on the backlot tram tour, go into the theme park during lunch and go on rides, or get lost on the way to the stage. The only thing I did a little bit of was walking around on their stages, through some of the sets. That was nifty, but still, I can’t pull anything good to post here except that the crew is incredibly nice.

But hey, I might’ve gotten some camera time behind the cop who gets Bree [I think her name is] out of the jail cell where she was talking to a hooker. I could’ve sat in a padded director’s chair with the name ‘Marcia’ embroidered on it, but I didn’t. That’s the closest I got to anything of interest.

Oh, and my voucher [the sort of receipt we’re issued for working] said, ‘Criminal’. It joins the ranks of other bizarre ones that have said, ‘Hooker’, ‘Perp’, ‘Prostitute’ and ‘Dead Nun’.

Update: Yep! I didn’t land on the cutting room floor!

A Virtual Costume Masquerade

So, I’m hanging out with Jason and some friends in the dealer room at LosCon over this past weekend and a man approaches me. He’s got a video camera and wants to know if I’d like to participate in the virtual costume masquerade.

The first thought that went through my head was, “Costume? What costume? I’m wearing a costume? This is a costume?” and I looked down at my get-up.

Pointy, low, black leather boots, red with black alligator print pants, black and white half shirt and a floor-length, black, laced-up, gothic-esque jacket.

While I was still too utterly stunned for words, one of my buddies said, “Costume? That’s her regular clothes!”

And that was so dog gone true!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It took me another fifteen seconds to fully process the whole thing and in the end, I was in the masquerade, but still found it surreal and amusing. If I’d known there was a virtual masquerade, I’d’ve worn something more costume-esque! Or at least geese with stripes…

Oh well. There’s always next year!

West Wing (2)

It had been two years since my last time on West Wing, but I found that not much had changed.

I misjudged holiday traffic and ended up an hour early to the Warner Brothers lot, but I was totally okay with that. I’d brought 5 books plus my palm pilot and keyboard. I was totally prepared.

As I walked through the lot (parking was at Gate 3, but the stage was closer to Gate 7…whatever), I sort of had a little moment…of thanks, even. Because as I walked down the main drag, a golfcart full of tourists whizzed by and I recalled a time long ago, when I’d dreamed of just walking on a studio lot.

That had seemed so far-fetched at the time, yet at the moment, I was recalling that little-girl reverie, there I was, walking on one of the oldest lots in Hollywood. I mean, the stages there have big placards that say what shows shot there and when all the way back to the thirties. Yeah. And I walked right by stage 24 which now has a placard proclaiming it the “FRIENDS stage”. Yeah, all this was stuff I’d never imagined I’d see and yet there I was.

I am very thankful for my tiny little part time Hollywood job. It puts me in places I never thought I’d be. I’m livin’ the dream!!!

Okay, so I got to the stage and couldn’t find holding. I followed another extra and we wondered together where holding was. I recalled years ago, that holding was in a trailer, but it took one of the crew guys showing us where it was for me to fully realize that not much had changed in the last couple years.

My sojourn trough the wardrobe line was painless. They wanted my green suit. Okay. I put it on.

And then I waited…

I finished Donald Maass’s “Writing a Breakout Novel” and then moved on to Edith Pargeter’s “The Heaven Tree” and my eyes started to glaze over for some reason so I switched to my palm pilot and wrote out some notes for my next novel. Of course half the extras in holding marvelled at my palm pilot/keyboard setup. Another day another dollar…

But then it was finally time to go onto the stage. I was a White House staffer. Immediately through the stage door, there was a row of Emmys. That was pretty cool, seeing them displayed so proudly right there by the door. I’d never seen one up close before. Pretty. Shiny. Gold.

We set up in the lobby. I might’ve actually gotten some camera time. I walked behind the principle actors as they came into the lobby. Nifty stuff.

But the most bizarre thing–one of the many that I also love about Hollywood–was that things aren’t always what they seem. My starting space was literally inside the front door where a security guard pretended to check me in. Now, I dunno why I found this so amusing, but the presidential seal on the floor–which looked to be brass–was squishy! Yeah, I stepped on it and it flexed underneath my weight! So, between takes, while I read more of “The Heaven Tree”, I sort of swished back and forth on the squishy presidential seal while marvelling at how the ‘brass’ buckled under my weight.

I dunno. Maybe I was bored or just easily amused, but that was fun for me.

My next task was doing a top-of-shot cross in front of the actors as they walked down a hallway. I’ll bet I got camera time on that one, too. I mean, I was walking perpendicular to their path while they were talking. I was only there for a split second, but still. I was there. I hope that makes it in.

Actually, speaking of West Wing camera time. I recall recently getting a screen cap of the last time I was on.

Anyhow, after everyone got wrapped and sent home, there were four of us left to do the last scene of the day. At first, I was being sent home, but then the guy changed his mind. It was fine with me because my drive was going to suck no matter what time I got out of there. Plus, I’d already changed into my beige suit.

[Oddly enough, last time I wore the beige suit was on the same lot for Old Christine and to make matters sillier, one of the Grips that I’d talked to on Old Christine recognized me and we chatted for a bit. Hollywood is a very small place sometimes.]

So, during the last scene of the night, I started in frame at the top of it. I hope I got camera time there. I believe the episodes shot that day were 10 or 11 and 13, so I might be in both. That’d be fun.

Anyhow, toward the end of the shot, Brad Whitford looked at us four extras and said something like, “Geez, I haven’t said Hi to the extras yet.” He scolded himself and then introduced himself to each of us four and asked our names, making sure he got them right. That was so freakin’ cool. And yeah, on that show Martin Sheen supposedly does the same thing, but still when the magic moment happened, it was awesome.

Yeah, it was a simple introduction, and I hadn’t thought it would really make a difference in the grand scheme of things, but y’know what…it really did make a difference. I felt better about my role in the production–like I wasn’t just ‘goddamn background’ and that my job mattered for once.

We’re usually so maltreated and condemned because of a few stupid people spoiling it for the rest of us that this one simple little gesture made all the difference to me. In fact, it even improved my performance! Or at least my performance felt more meaningful and I liked that. It was nice.

And I can add Brad Whitford to the list of recognizable actors who’ve spoken to me. I dunno…Add that to the little girl reverie from earlier and this whole background acting thing is astoundingly, incredibly, beautifully wonderful and I wouldn’t trade any of it for the world!

It’s nice to live the dream…and get paid for it.

UPDATE: I found that other scene I was at the top of, but I guess I landed on the cutting room floor. Ah well. 2 out of 3 ain’t bad.

Parking my Viper in someone else’s spot

Yesterday, I was on Twins and a strange little thing happened.

I was instructed to park my car in someone else’s reserved spot. Okay, whatever, as long as I had permission. But I wasn’t assigned a specific spot, I was allowed to choose one myself. Rather than reading people’s names, or the shows they worked on, I just chose the widest space and shoe-horned my Viper into it.

Good golly, I felt bad for taking the guy’s space. His name was Bill something-or-other and he was working on the same show I was. Yikes! When I realized that, I was about to pull out of the space and park somewhere else, but at the same time, I figured that while I was on the stage, if I happened to hear some guy complaining that some asshole had parked in his spot, I could at least go apologize to the poor guy.

And then I thought about it… If I had a reserved spot and I drove, say, a Pinto and someone in a Viper had sniped my spot. Would I be ticked off? I mean, yeah, I was out a space, but there was a Viper in my spot–with my name emblazoned over it. Would that really be so bad?

But what if I drove a Mustang?

A Camry?

Some kind of Porsche?

A Ferrari?

How would I feel about my spot being taken by a Viper?

And then I got to thinking about disregarding what I drove. How would I feel about those other cars being in my spot…

And what if I drove a Viper and found a Pinto in my spot–with my name emblazoned above it!

Good grief, those thoughts fueled vacations from boredom the whole time I waited to do my scene. So many different possibilities! Half of which, I really wasn’t sure how pissed off I’d be!

I never did hear anyone complain about a Viper being in his parking space. Too bad. It would’ve been fun to see how he’d felt.

Twins

This was the very first time I was on a sitcom where it actually shot on the stage…in front of *gulp* a live audience. Every other time I’d worked a sitcom (Macolm in the Middle, Frasier, Old Christine), I was on location.

Anyhow, because the drive wasn’t long, I took my Viper–top down, enjoying the SoCal November sun. Once through the CBS gate, I was instructed to park in the structure, 4th floor or above. Okay, sounded easy.

But I drove around the upper floors three times. There was only one space–it could barely fit a Mini let alone my big fat Viper–so I went back down to the guard shack and asked what I should do. He told me to park anywhere on the third floor. “Anywhere?” I really needed clarification before I parked. It’d suck to come out and find that my car had been towed. He replied, “Yeah, anywhere on the north side. Not the south side where Passions is.”

Okay, that was good enough for me, so I found a nice wide spot on the third floor and put my car in it. I still felt guilty for taking the guy’s spot–his name was Bill something-or-other and he was working on Twins, too–and I worried I’d see the guy when I got to the stage. But then as I got my junk from the trunk and headed down, I realized that today of all days was the best to be in the Viper. I mean, depending on what Bill drove, how pissed off would he really be to find a Viper in his parking space?

I walked to the stage and set my crap down in the audience bleachers, still not knowing there’d be an audience later that night. I waited around to be taken to wardrobe where I somehow ended up first in line.

The casting director booked me as a coffee house waitress and said for me to look ‘geeky’. Well, I didn’t know exactly what that meant so among others, I brought my geese-with-stripes shirt. Of course wardrobe didn’t like most of what I’d brought nor what I’d worn, so they just put me in my most boring–blue sweater and jeans. No biggie. I was comfy and happy although devoid of geese. (I really wanna wear that thing on a set someday!!!!)

I waited what felt like an eternity as all the other scenes were rehearsed. I was only in one–the last one, of course. The crew whipped through everything with amazing speed, although it still felt slow. The best part was getting to watch everything. That was nice. I enjoyed having something interesting to look at while bored out of my mind.

Then, it was finally time to do my scene. The prop guy set me up with a tray, a pen and a order pad. Cool. I’d never been a waitress before. This could be fun, could be interesting…

The AD told me where I was allowed to work and all was well. When the scene started, I sprung into action, taking orders for four people, dashing back behind the bar, dashing behind the set, coming back, taking a couple more orders, then the gag happened and I gasped before following the character off the set.

Not bad. I felt okay about my performance, especially since I was given zero instruction. That either meant I was doing okay or nobody saw me. Either way, I was fine with that.

But then the prop guy came over to me and said, “I have a job for you.”

I was terrified. “What kind of job?”

He grabbed my tray and flipped it over. “Peel off the price tags. I guess the tray’s new.”

We shared a chuckle and I got to work.

The price tags came off easily, but the big, huge, white bar code sticker proved a wicked nemesis as I was running out of time before the next take. In fact the damn thing wouldn’t come off at all!

So, during the next take, I was focused on my “acting” as well as hiding the bar code with either my hand or by keeping the back of the tray away from the camera. Afterward, I was still pleased with my performance and no one complained. I assumed I was okay.

Then dinner happened and I chowed one table away from Mark Linn-Baker. (When I’d first seen him earlier, I had total deja vu and time-warped back to watching him on Perfect Strangers. And I always think it kicks ass to see the principle actors going through the same chow line as the rest of us.)

After what felt like another eternity, my scene was finally called and we were herded onto the soundstage. That was when it really hit me that I was about to perform in front a real live audience. I examined that moment, surprised that I wasn’t at all nervous.

I mean, my background is in live theatre, so this shouldn’t be any different…BUT…I’d only acted in one play, all million others, I’d done sound, lighting, set, followspot, etc. for. No one saw my face except for one time when I was an on-stage followspot operator in costume, but I didn’t have to act. Yeah, I majored in Theatre (Design and Technology) and had to take a ton of acting classes, but still, the last time I’d been on a stage in front of an audience greater than a class of about twenty-five was almost ten years ago. So, why wasn’t I nervous?

Because I was just background. Who cares about background? Besides, I can act. I learned that from my classes. And I knew I’d do a better job if I really thought that no one was looking.

So I wasn’t nervous. A little excited, perhaps, because of the new thrill of doing my first gig with an audience, but that was about it.

Then, the director started moving people into the path I’d used during rehearsal. Oh dear.

Then, I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to do everything I’d done in the rehearsal.

Then, there was no time to worry because the scene started and I had to perform.

Somehow I made my way through to the people whose orders I took.

Then, I dunno what happened. I started sucking. I couldn’t remember if I was supposed to go to the bar or backstage. Good grief! This was a terrible time to be crappy! And I was terrified that I’d accidentally show the damn bar code to one of the FOUR cameras!

I muddled through the first take, horrified at how terrible my performance was.

I figured someone was going to come up to me and confirm that, whether it was the prop guy warning me about the bar code or the AD giving me notes about where not to go or what not to do.

But none of that happened and we did another take.

…Which I flubbed, too!!!!! Oh my goodness, gracious, golly, why the hell was I sucking so hard tonight?

I never did figure out what had gone wrong in my head, although I did notice that when I’d screwed up during the takes, I’d at least been consistent! Perhaps that’s why I didn’t get in trouble.

Anyhow, after a pick-up and an insert that didn’t really involve us extras, we were released.

The Viper was still where I’d parked it. No threatening notes were on the windshield, so I assumed everything was okay. Maybe the guy didn’t come in to work. Whatever. I went home tired, but happy.

Smokin’ Aces

Let me just say that this was one of my most surreal gigs…not in what happened or what didn’t happen, just in the way it felt to be there.

I had a 7 AM call time in a place that even without traffic takes about an hour and change to get to. I left at 5 and got lost in the fog, discovered I was given the wrong address and then finally found my way to crew parking.

…Where I pulled my ’68 Mustang into a space, got out and started unloading my baggage. (I dunno why I felt the need to bring that much crap this time, but oh well.) As I pulled my stuff out of my trunk, the fellow who’d parked his truck next to mine complimented my car. That was a very nice way to start a day. I was quite happy and looking forward to working.

I had the usual sign in, go to wardrobe rigamarole–nothing new there–except maybe that wardrobe liked my clothes. That was fun. I thought I’d end up changing because my sweater was kind of bright, but the costumer just had me put on one of my jackets over it. Cool deal. I sat in holding and waited to be brought to the set.

When the magic moment happened and we all filed into the diner and met the A.D., Steve, who’d be placing us, I was glad to discover that he was the fellow who’d complimented my car earlier. This was gonna be a great day.

Except that this was also one of those calls where I couldn’t figure out why I was there. My look wasn’t quite the same as everyone else’s and it became painfully magnified as Steve put together groups of people to sit in the diner booths. I ended up odd and following him around anxiously because usually whenever I get left out, I get just that–left out and forgotten. I get paid either way, but if I’m gonna get my ass up at 4AM to be somewhere, I better get used at least once!

At one point, he looked directly at me and out of the blue said something like, “Don’t worry. I’ll place you. Probably not until after the first rehearsal, though, so just sit tight.”

The thought that went through my head was, “HOLY SHIT! He read my mind! I LIKE THIS GUY!!!!!” And honestly, it’s rare to work for an A.D. who’s that attentive, doesn’t roll his or her eyes when the extras file in, and is above all at least trying to have fun despite the fact that making movies is serious business and very hard work. Oh hell yes, I was gonna have a great day.

I eventually got placed in a booth by myself and all was well. The scene involved Alicia Keyes and a couple other actors I didn’t recognize.

My remaining dilemma was business…what kind of business did I have by myself? The prop guy gave me a menu. Steve directed a woman acting as a waitress to come take my order. Another waitress came by with a coffee cup. But the scene kept on going and I needed something to keep myself occupied.

I pulled open my purse and started rummaging through. Unfortunately, I hadn’t put much in it and this wasn’t the kind of diner where I could whip out my palm pilot. I settled for my little notebook and pen.

That was what I did for the rest of that scene. After lunch (which oddly featured a bizarre extra singing songs I’d heard a billion times while playing his guitar and I think my ears might be permanently scarred, but oh the joys of being a background actor and being exposed to the surreal) I stayed in holding for about four hours and rewrote a scene of Otherness: Rift.

Right when the end of the day started looming, I got called back in to the set. This time, Steve put me at a different booth, but I did the same business. I was in super-ultra-deep background and the camera probably only saw me for a split second anyway. My tablemate read the paper and I doodled more in my notebook.

And here–in near entirety–is what I wrote during my entire time on set: [I left it stream of consciouness like in the notebook and I also need to warn you that there are several very boring passages, but they accurately show my state of mind, lack of sleep and some of the boredom that frequently goes through an extra’s head if he or she isn’t involved very deeply in a scene or near the camera.]

Smokin’ Aces today. November 15, I think. The A.D.–Steve is hot and likes my car. I parked next to him in the crew parking lot. It’s such a shame that I can’t really work much on Otherness: Rift today. This just isn’t the kind of place I can pull out my palm pilot. Ah well. Hopefully this scene won’t take forever. It’s pretty wide right now and I dunno how much I’ll be used in the rest of it. Still the most important item of the day is that the A.D. is hot. So is the boom operator. He stands next to me at the top of each take. We’re on 6. Now they slightly moved the camera and are still going. Oh boy. It’s roughly 10:30 AM. I wish I were done. Something just went wrong. A waitress missed her cue and now I still have a menu. Oh well. It’s certainly not the end of the world. I’m still writing and having a good time. It’s like these gigs just suck a day of my life into oblivion. I don’t know why it feels that way, but it does. Another take. I keep writing. I’m finally getting bored through lack of sleep. I had tea on the way over here but it’s wearing off. So totally wearing off. Let me ponder [my book] for another moment.

Same day. Later time. Got roped into coming back in here. I guess I wasn’t meant to leave in time to get another scene of Otherness: Rift done. I dunno. I feel like I’m where I need to be. I suppose I could’ve hunted through my purse a little longer on this take so I wouldn’t be writing as much. I can’t believe how bored I am now. I suppose I need caffeine, but still. I’m dyin’ here. I could write another section about how hot Steve is. It’s his blue eyes, hard-working attitude, and his choice in glasses–stylishly wide and I dunno–he’s hot. Simply hot. Steve just told me that one of the waitresses is actually Alicia Keyes’s mom. Little bit of trivia there, huh? I dig it. I still find that stuff fun, but I don’t usually hear it on the set. I ususally hear it later, or I’m the one who’d gotten the little bit of trivia. I could be wrong, but she either got a line, too, or she just had a line delivered to her. I don’t recognize the actors in this scene. They do look familiar, but I don’t know who they are. Side note: Last time I came here to Downey, I was auditioning for Lemony Snickett. That was a while ago. I still think Steve is hot. That’s–he’s–my theme for today. I could write about other stuff, but my brain is mush and he happens to be working nearby. Yeah, there’s tons of people and other things to look at, but the ancient, wilted salad in front of me honestly can’t hold my attention like Steve can. Alicia Keyes’s mom has pretty eyes. They sparkle. The number one reason why Steve is hot is because he read my mind earlier. He knew I was following him because I was waiting for him to set me. He knew. And that was incredibly hot. He didn’t forget about me, either. That was hot, too. Damn, his hotness is easy to quantify. I like his happy personality, too. That’s nice. Otherwise this would feel more like work. Way too much like work. My tablemate is coloring a placemat. Obviously, the camera can’t see us. A grip (I think, but can’t remember which equipment I’ve seen him carrying) originally brought the crayons to me.

And there you have it…my time on Smokin’ Aces!!!!

I autographed a robot

Before I explain the title of this post, let me first relay my very first autographing experience:

As half of the Ashleigh Raine writing team at my very first Romantic Times convention a few years ago, I was asked for an autograph. I was beyond the valley of thrilled. The woman was excited, too, as she dug through her bag for…

…???her palm pilot???…

I cocked my head sideways in wonder as she scrolled through her ebooks to find Mesmerized and then paged through to get to the Ashleigh Raine story, Magic In The Works. The whole time I was mesmerized by the magic of technology and calling my writing partner over to…uh…sign an autograph.

I’m still bewildered and amazed that my very first autograph was on a palm pilot. Turned out the woman’s palm allowed notes taken over the screen. I think she mentioned that she wanted our latest work autographed even if it wasn’t out in print yet.

Honestly, by the time Jen and I got through the official autograph signing, we were old pros, but that very first book did feel strange…singing on *paper* of all things!

As an added bonus to our original bewilderment, Jen and I had only scribbled our names on the palm pilot .pdf title page, so later in the conference, we asked for it back so that we could personalize it and stuff. What a way to get started.

…And well, back to the title of this post…

At World Fantasy, David Levine was getting robot parts autographed for a charity auction giveaway and as I was scribbling Ashleigh’s name, Jen’s name and my name, all I could think about was that this wasn’t the most bizarre thing I’d autographed and that it was ironic that other than books, the most memorable things I’ve signed have been purely geeky items and I absolutely love that!!!!

Verbally Sparring with Graham Joyce

I’m still reeling from the experience. He was one of the World Fantasy Convention’s guests of honor, for goodness sake, but that didn’t stop me. No siree.

As part of a giant group, Jason and I were invited out to dinner and drinks. When I sat down, I was between Jeremy of Night Shade Books and Jason, with Graham Joyce and other important people at the table behind me. I was in awe of being invited let alone being there and not told to go sit at the kiddy table because I wasn’t allowed with all the grown-ups.

Anyhow, deep in conversation with Jeremy, the next thing I know, he brings Graham into the conversation.

Now, I’ve seen the guy at a few panels during the convention, know that he’s the guest of honor, read some of the blurbage in the program, but honestly, I’d yet to discover his books and had already planned to go home and purchase one or two.

But when Graham–guest of honor and incredible writer extraordinaire–tells me that he doesn’t think women should write naughty books or have naughty thoughts, I’m sorry, but I gotta say a thing or two about that. (Plus, the sparkle in his eye had me thinking that he was game for a good spar.) We shared a few exchanges in good fun and then Jeremy rescued me. Whew! (Quite honestly, I think I might have accidentally won the sparring somehow, but that wasn’t my intention. A good spar is hard to come by no matter what the topic and who the opponent.)

That was a wonderful, exhillerating little experience for me, but I hope I didn’t piss anyone off. I mean, the genesis of the whole conversation was erotic romance and all the involved parties were married–most with his or her spouse sitting one chair away–but some people get touchy when talking about sex. Funny how in fiction, you can murder millions, but throw in some sex and everything’s in an uproar. I suppose I’ll never understand.

Afterward, Jeremy asked me if I knew who Graham was and if I’d spoken with him before. Yep and nope. I take people at face value. Character or not, if you’re going to smile and joke with me, I’m gonna smile and joke right back. It’s really that simple. I don’t care who you are.

I’m lousy at kissing up.

Truthfully, I once had a job where during my review it was requested that I socialize more, and there was an underlying impression that “socializing” meant “ass kissing”.

I was laid off a few months later. Oh darn. If I weren’t writing, I might miss that job. Hmmm…actually–the job: yes, the people: hell no.

Stay tuned for more adventures. I need to find my notes…

In the mean time, it’s very good to be back home.

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