Courting Alex

I wasn’t on the list at the guard shack and I didn’t quite know what to make of that. But I’d driven my Prowler, so I at least looked somewhat important and the guard got his supervisor to okay me. That was really nice. It totally felt like good luck had smiled upon me because it’s next to impossible to get on studio lots without a pass these days.

I parked and went to the stage, glad that I’d have some time to read more of Heaven Tree–which I’d started a few weeks ago on West Wing and was still in my bag. I read another ten pages or so before the AD started checking us in.

I wasn’t on the check-in list, either.

Okay, now I was starting to doubt my sanity. I’d been booked as ‘street atmosphere and art gallery patron’. And that’s what they needed. I couldn’t’ve coincidentally pulled those two categories out of my imagination. Yes, I was on the right stage for the right show.

But I wasn’t on the list and there wasn’t a voucher for me.

That was a big problem. No voucher, no paycheck. Big problem. But the AD told me to hang out while he got it figured out. The best part of that expedition was that a lot of people learned my name. On sets, it’s rare for ADs to know and remember the names of background actors, so I figured I was either in for trouble or a great day.

As it turned out, I wasn’t on the list, there was no voucher, but I had indeed been booked on the show. Whatever. Once we were all sure I was in the right place, I was given a voucher from someone who hadn’t shown up. By this point, I was somewhat late getting to wardrobe.

I’d thought I was in for hell with wardrobe, but they actually fell in love with my clothes. That soooooo rarely happens, but it has been happening more lately and I don’t know what I’m doing now that I wasn’t doing earlier. Whatever. They gave me a different sweater and gushed about my art gallery stuff. (Funny how the shirt they’d liked for the art gallery was a shirt I picked up literally the other day at a thrift store because I knew it’d be perfect for extra work…guess I was right.)

The production needed some upscale cars so I volunteered my Prowler. Remember, I was late, though, so I had to practically run to get my car and then get out of the structure, off the lot, back in through the main gate and over to New York street.

Apparently, no one in New York has a Prowler.

I was apologetically told to go put my car back in the structure and walk back to the set.

Thus, I was even later. By the time I got to the set, the AD had already set just about everyone. He looked at me, considered the scene, scratched his head, then gave me a cross to do when the scene was about half over.

Great! I was in business. There was nothing left to do but wait.

During that time, Jenna Elfman came onto the set. She is sooooooo tall and gorgeous. I’m so jealous… Anyway, as I was standing there in lalaland, I hear that unmistakable voice–one I’d only previously heard through television speakers–say, “Lisa.”

My heart did a weird flippy-floppy thing. Why the hell was Jenna Elfman saying my name? How did she know my name? Lots of people who didn’t need to know my name had learned my name today, but why was Jenna saying my name? I thought I was going to die, but I looked up with raised eyebrows, ready to do whatever she needed.

She obviously wasn’t talking to me and I was glad for it. She did look surprised when I looked up so attentively, but the real Lisa approached and life went on as I breathed a huge sigh of relief.

Coincidence had already been weird that morning, this was weird enough on its own.

We started rehearsing the scene. I waited halfway through and went to do my cross, but Jenna and Hugh (I never learned his last name and I’m sorry for it.) were side-by-side on the sidewalk and skinny little me couldn’t even fit through so I just crossed behind. It seemed to work, but it ‘felt’ wrong, so I went up to an AD and explained.

I knew I was in weird territory, but I carefully phrased my concern, “Could you please let Jenna and Hugh know that there’ll be extras making crosses against them? There’s not enough room on the sidewalk without cutting between them and the camera.”

On the next rehearsal, I was able to get through. It was awkward, but Jenna and I didn’t do any funky dance steps and I didn’t get yelled at afterward, so I assumed all was well.

We shot the scene several times and then it was time to go in for coverage. I waited and read more of Heaven Tree while they got the stuff before my cross.

Okay, now this was a unintentionally big moment…

While shooting coverage of where my cross happens, there was a false start. They were still rolling. Hugh and Jenna were resetting. I was down the block and my cross was at the top of the take, so I literally ran back to my spot.

…Thus endearing myself to all the ADs. One in particular (the 1st AD, I’m guessing) promptly thanked me from the bottom of his heart.

But I’d just been doing my job. I felt weird being thanked for doing my job. Whatever. That was cool. I was the golden extra during the rest of the takes involving me–there weren’t many–and then I read more of Heaven Tree. (This is why I always carry a decently big purse–great for hiding paperbacks, my palm pilot and a notebook.)

Once the exterior was finished (We were on New York street where Seinfeld used to shoot. Once upon a time, I actually parked my car on that street while it was still dressed for Seinfeld. It has been fun to see it morph since then.), we were allowed a one-hour walkaway lunch as usual when shooting on the lot. I got a grilled cheese sandwich at the commissary. Yum.

Next up was the art gallery, so I changed into my fun outfit. Earthy green and beige, but lots of drama in the styling.

I was assigned a date and then told where to stand. The scene was going to be shot in three or four separate parts. We were right in front in the middle. That was cool.

During the second part, we were given a cross to the opposite side…where we were given certain marks to make sure we were in frame.

During the next part, we were given another cross all the way to the other side past where we were in the first section and then instructed to make our way back around and follow two of the principles to take their place looking at a painting when they left. We landed in the front again.

At some point my date noticed. I had been oblivious because my feet were killing me for having been standing on them all day.

I really took in his observation and realized that it was probably because I was the golden extra. The AD knew he could count on me to cross in the right place at the right time so he used the hell out of me, making me drag my date along. Which worked great.

I explained it in a nutshell while we waited do do another take, “This morning. False start. They were resetting. I ran.” My date chuckled knowingly, then rolled his eyes, “This really is your fault, then. We could be in deep background, with our backs to the camera, but no, you had to go and do a good job. Great. Just great.” We quietly shared the laugh.

Our crosses got rearranged a little as far as timing…And then there was the one where we were supposed to go when Josh Randall sat down…

…but he didn’t sit down.

I was terrified, but quickly faked it and walked through with my back to the camera while pantomime-talking to my date.

It ‘felt’ good and we didn’t get yelled at afterward, so we did it the same way every time. That was fun. The scene was great.

And then we were released. Great experience. The crew was wonderful. They still had another scene to do with Dabney Coleman. Long day for them. I was only there for eleven hours. I wish I could have more gigs like this one. I really do.

Windfall

I believe this is a new television show airing sometime in the new year. I don’t know for sure, though. All I know is that I almost don’t want to post my experience on this show for fear of coming off like a whiny bitch, but I feel some of it was justified. But, I ain’t gonna lie, some of it was also PMS.

I found the location okay. No surprises there. I was early and opted to sit in my car until closer to call time. When I got out of my car, good grief, it was freezing cold outside. I think that was the beginning of my grumpiness, but I didn’t let it hamper my day because I knew the weather would warm up eventually. I grabbed some breakfast and looked for holding…But there wasn’t one. There weren’t even chairs and tables set up around catering. That was weird, but whatever. I ate standing up. No big deal. It wasn’t the first time.

We were checked in and for some reason the PA hadn’t grabbed my voucher from the office. Okay. Fine. No big deal. I stood by and waited in the wardrobe line.

I was playing a waitress. They didn’t like what I’d brought–nothing new there–so I had to change. Once again, no big deal.

We were herded onto a people mover and taken over to the set. We were all a little worried when we saw that our holding was a dirty, empty storefront, but then glad when we were put to work immediately. I personally never went into holding for longer than the time it took me to put down my backpack.

Now here’s where I started getting a little iggy about this shoot. The crew talked down to the extras. Not just me or certain people, all of us. I was placed next to a table as though ready to take an order. That was fine. I nodded, smiled. I was ready. But then the crew decided that all the tables were in the wrong place on the sidewalk. Why on earth should I be standing next to ‘my’ table if it’s going to move and if there are an army of people walking around. I was in the way, so I took a few steps back.

I was then instructed to stand by my table again like I was an idiot with a short attention span. I didn’t bother explaining. I just did as I was told and then promptly moved away when the table moved again.

Then, I was wondering if props had either a tray or an order pad for me. We were getting close to rehearsal, so I just grabbed my little spiral notebook and pen from my purse and figured I’d make do. Finally the prop guy brought me pad and pen, that was cool. But he also asked me what I was doing standing there. “Uh…I’m ready to take an order,” I replied, wondering why he’d asked, but whatever.

I stood near the table unless people were around. The same AD gave me the ‘get by your table’ look a few times, but if there were too many people, I didn’t go there.

Finally, I guess he was frustrated with me and he reiterated that I should stand there and take an order, but then said that there wasn’t much else I could do now that all but my table had been moved away. I replied, “I could walk into it.” And he seemed surprised–like how could an extra know to do something as smart as that? I dunno. By this time, I’d had enough of the way I was treated and seeing the way others were treated, too. I just wanted to be done with the shoot.

We did a bunch of takes and then they said we could go home. We all replied, “Yeah right, uh-huh.” To which he said that we would, indeed, be allowed to go home once we got back to base camp. So we all piled onto the people mover and were driven back. Those of us who needed to, changed back into regular clothes and waited at the back of the wardrobe truck.

But no one came.

Apparently, we’d been told that we were wrapped, but no one else had been told that.

They’d decided to use us in the other scene.

Some of us did get to go home, but most of us didn’t. A little communication could’ve helped this show a whole lot. Just because we’re extras doesn’t mean we don’t have the right to know what’s going on especially if it relates directly to us. We’re people too. We understand if you want more out of us. You’re paying us for 8 hours, might as well use us as much of that time as you can. We understand that completely. But if you tell us we can go home, reiterate that–causing several of us to line up other stuff to do with our afternoon–but then tell us we have to work…we’re not gonna be thrilled.

So, I stood around–remember, there were no chairs–waiting until they finally decided to use me. I had to go to wardrobe and get another sweater. That was fine, but by the time I got to the set, things were changing. When I walked in, I followed a PA who told me to go talk to an AD. When I went to talk to the AD and make myself available, he started yelling and complaining and I turned right back to the PA and said, “I’m not gonna walk into that.” He broke in and told the AD myself and another woman were ready to be placed and he yelled back, “I don’t need ’em. Get ’em outta here. Get ’em outta here now. Go. Now.” He waved, shooing us away.

And I really didn’t want to be there in the first place! Especially by now. I was ready to kill someone. I didn’t deserve to be yelled at–especially for following directions. The PA then led me to a room and said he’d get me a chair. The other woman had brought hers from home. I sat on the floor while I waited. No big deal, right? the chair came and all was well.

Except that the room was about 55 degrees. I shivered. We were instructed to ‘stay close’, so I couldn’t go outside and warm up. Finally, the PA took pity on me when the scene changed and put me in. Yeah, it was warmer, but not by much. Thankfully, I was playing a patient, so I just used my shiver and made it bigger.

After that, we were allowed to go outside. Most of us were looking at our watches, calculating when we got there vs. when lunch should be. It’s usually right at 6 hours from call time. Well, 6 hours was in about fifteen minutes.

And what did they do? They finally let us go because otherwise, they would’ve had to feed us.

Nice.

See, I told you I didn’t want to come off as a whiny bitch, but it happened. This was the worst show I’ve been on in a very long time. Yeah, I was PMSing and I hadn’t had enough caffeine, but still, just the down-talking to the extras was too much to put up with. Everything else was completely forgiveable. And the PAs were absolutely wonderful. In general, it’s usually the boredom that makes a show bad. This time, it really was a few key people in positions of authority.

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.

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.

Everybody Hates Chris

For starters, I had a bizarre time trying to get to the stage. I swear it wasn’t my fault. Here’s how it went:

I showed up at Paramount Studios and entered the Gower Gate where a security guard checks people in and issues passes and maps.

Well, there were two other extras in front of me and they weren’t exactly the sharpest tools in the shed…or at least they hadn’t done this too many times before and the guard got a little restless. She made the assumption that all three of us were going to the same show despite my totally 1983 wardrobe. (Then again, it was Halloween and I’m sure she’d seen weirder stuff on non-Halloween days, too)

She was a pretty tough cookie so I didn’t argue when she drew out the map to Stage 23. I needed to go to Stage 17, but I wasn’t about to say that. I figured I’d just follow the other two and 17 would be somewhere close.

Nope.

I walked around and around and around. Usually, when I go to Paramount, I enter through the Lemon Grove gate. I know my way around better from that side. This kind of reminded me of when I was on Old Christine at Warner Brothers not to long ago–I know the lot from every other entrance but the one I came in through.

Finally, I stop a security guard and he points me past the water tank. Duh. I felt like such an idiot for forgetting there were more stages on that side of the lot…

I get over there and find 15 and 16, but where the hell is 17? I find New York Street where we’ll be filming, but still I had more wandering before I found Stage 17.

The highlight of my impromtu tour was passing down alleyway after alleyway that were most certainly used during the filming of Angel. I recognized so many places including the Angel Investigations building facade on the backlot across from where we were shooting.

I finally come up on Stage 17 and go through the door. The sets are all empty. Where is everyone? I walk all the way through the building and out the other side. I figured I’d see either a group of extras or someone who could tell me where check-in was.

I turn down another dark alleyway and happen to peer in some of the windows… There were ancient generators and a lighting control board from eons ago. See, back in the day, light boards weren’t computerized consoles like they are now. Lighting control was done by numerous huge levers–kind of like old-school breakers except bigger.

I passed four windows’ worth of these huge throw switches assumedly attached to old dimmers, but I couldn’t see inside any of the panels. I was totally in awe. Once upon a time, I was a Theatrical Lighting Designer, Master Electrician, Light Board Operator and Lighting Equipment Repair Technician, so seeing how it all used to be done was fantastic. There were sections chained off as though a tour runs through. I gotta look into it because that stuff really floats my boat. I could geek on it for hours.

I wander back to where I started at Stage 17 and there’s a table set up. I’d finally found check-in. But I was about an hour early (I’d stupidly misjudged traffic) so I had to wait. No biggie. At least I knew where I was supposed to be now.

Background pinball is background pinball. The most exciting thing about the shoot was a bus in motion. Uh-huh. Oh boy. I wish there was more to report, but the only other excitement I had was when the costumer absolutely loved every inch of clothing I’d brought. I was stunned. This is a period show, 1983, and the costumer was actually excited to have me. This was the first time ever on a period show that there was no sigh, “I guess what you have will work” or without even looking in my garment bag “What size are you?”.

Oh yeah, and this was also the first show where I got to be the token white girl. It was fun. I hope I get to do more.

UPDATE: All that and a couple of screen captures to boot!

I just interviewed for reality TV

I don’t really know why I went, but that’s nothing new. I go with my gut and trust my instincts on stuff and I’m rarely steered wrong. At this point, it was just for the experience, the adventure.

Truthfully, it was even smaller than I’d expected. The show is web-based, so it’s not like any of this town’s big names are gonna show up. Sure the exposure is big–being on the web and all–but it depends on the traffic driven to the site. I mean, there are no guarantees.

Besides, they may not want me anyway. I’m in SAG. I mostly did this to see what it’d be like, not to promote books although it’d be a good by-product. Plus, I’m on the cusp of getting published, so this would be an interesting time to invade my life and splash it all over the web. Hey, could be fun.

To start, there was an eight (or more, I didn’t count) page questionnaire to fill out. Then, a little bit of waiting while they got themselves figured out better. (I was only the second one they’d interviewed) Once I got into the final room for the interview, it went well. I don’t know how good my chances are and I also don’t know if I really want to be in the show.

It’s funny. I thought I’d feel something about whether I wanted to do the show or not, but I left feeling middle-of-the-road.

Maybe that’s from my experiences with rejection letters lately. I don’t get my hopes up about things I can’t control. And today’s experience was reassuring proof of that.

I also thought I’d get nervous, but once I was in the building, my nerves never frazzled. I wasn’t relaxed, but I also wasn’t frozen in fear. Very strange.

As I sit here blogging, I’m still trying to make sense of the experience and even theorize whether or not I’ll get on the show, but I’m a complete blank.

Of course in my own little world, the show should be all about me, me, me because I’m wonderful.

But I also happen to live in the real world–which is a whole lot bigger than my own little world–and I understand how this Hollywood stuff works!

I was asked about how I write erotic romance and whether I had any strife in my family. Mainly, I think I was essentially dubbed ‘The chick who’s livin’ the dream’ and filed away.

Whatever. The experience was worth more than the price of admission and that’s what’s most important. And certain aspects of the adventure will definitely show up in the next book I’m writing. Oh hell yeah.

Life is good…very, very good.

My First Walk On The Red Carpet!

Last weekend, Jen and I did a booksigning at a gothic book shop called Dark Delicacies. I highly recommend going there if you’re ever in or near Burbank, CA. The shop is wonderful (And my opinion isn’t biased because of the thank you gifts they handed out to the authors. The shop really is fantastic and I’ll be doing a lot of Christmas shopping there.)

Anyhow, one of the gifts was tickets to the premiere of ‘Doom’ with The Rock.

Oh hell yeah, I was wanting to go. I’d never been to a premiere before. Jason balked citing too much work to do, but his best friend Eddie agreed to go with me…even though it rained all day.

Once at Universal City Walk, we had some time to kill. Eddie hadn’t realized what I’d meant by ‘premiere’ and ‘red carpet’ until we walked by the front of the theater and saw all the hullabaloo set up. He turned to me, “Is that where we’re going?” I thought, “duh”, but said, “Yup!” and then we grabbed dinner at a crepe shop.

We still didn’t now exactly how this whole premiere thing worked. I mean, there were fences and stuff around the red carpet and because of all the plastic to keep out the rain, it was hard to figure out where we were supposed to go. But we did have tickets, so we walked up to one of the security guards.

I came dressed for rain. I didn’t want to mess around with an umbrella so I wore my knee-high silver vinyl boots, violet snakeskin vinyl pants, green sweater and metallic blue vinyl jacket…oh, and a metallic brown vinyl hat. I really didn’t care what I looked like. The rain had seriously been coming down all day and the last thing I wanted to do was go see a movie while being wet and freezing. Due to my vinyl outfit–and the rain tapering to a drizzle–I weathered quite nicely.

The security guard looked the two of us up and down and was ready to tell us to get lost. (I don’t blame him one bit!) When the guard asked if we needed to go to will call for tickets, he had that ‘get lost’ edge in his voice still. But then Eddie whipped out our tickets and the guard’s song changed to, “Yes, sir. Right this way,” essentially. It was actually pretty funny. We had orange tickets while just about everyone else had blue tickets. I never did figure out what the difference in colors meant.

Anyhow, that guard pointed us toward another 5 or so guards who succintly stated, “Go to your left,” when we got to the infamous red carpet. To the right were all the photographers and at some point the important people. To the left, there was a crowd of tourists and gawkers held back behind the fences. Eddie suggested he hold up his jacket while shouting, “No pictures!” and running me in. I reminded him that it was already too late. They’d seen us and knew we were nobody…unless someone mistook me for Jennifer Beals–which does happen sometimes–but I doubt Jennifer Beals would go to a movie premiere while wearing as much vinyl as I was. She’s got class. I, however…

Anyway, after our stroll along the soggy red carpet (which, BTW I loved just for the sake of getting to walk on THE red carpet no matter how water-logged it was) we got into the theater lobby where we met about fourteen more guards and were given the cavity search. They pointed us up a set of stairs.

Then another guard yelled at us, telling us to stop and wanting to see our tickets again. (Judging by the looks we kept getting, I think the guards thought we were vagrants or something. We didn’t really fit in with the people who were already in the theater. As more arrived, everything normalized, but still, at that point, we were too odd-looking to be there.)

We got sent to two theaters before getting to sit down. If I’d chosen to dilly-dally, I could’ve waited to see The Rock and the rest of the cast, but there’s a weird feeling on the other side of the red carpet.

Yeah, I’d already seen The Rock when I was on Be Cool, but there’s also a sort of different feeling that I hadn’t expected once I’d walked the red carpet and entered the theater lobby. Like the fans and gawkers were all outside and everyone inside shouldn’t gush or drool or whatever over the cast.

I’d assumed once I’d gotten into the building that I’d hang around and watch the stars arrive, but the whole feeling changed once I got my free popcorn. It was like I was supposed to be blase about being in the midst of stars.

Well, as blase as I could be while wearing that much bizarre vinyl.

The energy in the building was nifty because it was the premiere and we were all seeing the movie before the general public. I never did figure out what the orange vs. blue tickets were about.

The movie wasn’t bad, wasn’t good. I’ll admit that it’s been years since last I’d watched someone play ‘Doom’ the video game upon which the movie is based, so perhaps I was a little removed from the movie, but in general the entire experience was absolutely fantastic. I really had a great time. Unfortunately, I didn’t have tickets to the afterparty, but oh well. Maybe next time.

web woes and happy endings

I spent a large portion of my weekend grumbling at my computer. Sure, there’s a beautiful placeholder up at www.rinaslayter.com, but for some reason, the website I’m building behind it is aggravating me.

See, I’m not a programmer. I really don’t know how to build websites. I use ingenuity, patience and determination to figure stuff out and have mostly learned enough to be dangerous. When my other two websites were handed to me [www.fictionados.com and www.ashleighraine.com], the hardest stuff had already been done. Yeah, I went in and tweaked some code, but the rest has all been duplicating and modifying pages, not building them from a blank screen.

I’m adventurous. I love a little [or a lot] of challenge, but I’m experiencing frustration at the current creation of my website. The sad part is that I’ve got a ton of text formatted and ready to go. All I gotta do is drop it into a site, but if that site won’t come together…well…you understand my frustration.

I did get the homepage together. It’s mostly empty, but all the links work. I did get one subpage together. It’s got my bio on it and all the links work. But as for the aforementioned stack of content ready to drop in…Absolutely nada.

Yeah, I probably bit off more than I could chew in thinking I’d have the thing together enough to input text, but that has NEVER stopped me before. I always think big.

And I usually make my goals.

One of my prior employers was called as a reference. He said, “Rina often bites off more than she can chew, takes on huge projects and when they get into crunch time, she works her ass off to make sure they’re done on time.”

And that is so true about me even though up until that point, I’d never realized it. I don’t think I’ve EVER missed a deadline. If I did, it wasn’t a big enough infraction that I remember it right now.

My background is in theatre. The show must go on. That’s where I learned to be early on a deadline. My lighting designs were always turned in a week early, hung as soon after that as possible and my cues were always written and loaded into the light board before technical rehearsals. It made for a better show because the hard part was done and I could focus on editing, tweaking, making the show truly shine. [sorry about the bad lighting pun]

I’m just glad the only deadline for my website was my own personal goal. If there’d been an outside force asking for the site, I doubt I would’ve gotten any sleep at all last night!

Oh well. I’m happy with my progress and look forward to my next head-banging, hair-ripping-out, grumping, tea-drinking-marathon installment of work on my website because I can’t wait to toot my horn about it being up and running!!!!!

I gotta get used to this whole horn tooting thing. So I’m starting small.

…But after I go on a week’s vacation to stay in haunted California hotels…

See ya when I get back! Maybe I’ll have rinaslayter.com up shortly afterward. Or at least that’s my personal deadline.

Thankfully, “shortly afterward” is a vague amount of time!!!!!!

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