Last year, upon a recommendation from a friend (she is a director who I met when acting in one of her projects), I joined Women In Film.  Since I joined, I have attended a few of their events including screenings, mixers and cultural nights.  I haven’t been able to get myself to one of their 8am Malibu breakfasts, but am hoping to go soon; I hear they are super informative.  I haven’t delved into this organization as much as I would have liked, but as I transition away from my day job into the creative realm, am hoping to become more involved in their group, and learn more about their resources and support.  On my list of things to do with WIF is apply for a mentor in the fall.  I am so curious about how actor/producers can succeed in both worlds, and if both can be a real strength or does it weaken the ultimate goal/focus.

Anyway, last week, in my effort to try and put myself out there, and get back in touch with what is new or interesting in the industry, I attended the Showbiz Expo.  I’m not a newbie, so I knew what to expect–a bunch of booths aimed at actors who might need any and every service (ie. classes, coaching, headshots, reels, etc.).  I decided to take more of a filmmaker approach and spoke with a couple booths that were not as actor focused.  I spoke with a lovely woman at The Scriptwriters Network named Melessa, who briefed me on some of their programs and events.  Yearly fee is $90 (which seems to be about average for these kinds of groups).  I like the idea of meeting other people who are creating work, and have also toyed around with the idea of seeking scripts for myself, instead of writing one on my own.  So I thanked her for her time and said I would join later.

I went by a few other booths, including one that was selling knock-off sunglasses and sheets…what that has to do about showbiz…well…now that I think about it, sunglasses and sheets + Hollywood?  I see the connection; I digress. Then I came to another table that definitely piqued my interest, Film Independent.  I had actually just heard from another friend (an actress from one of my old theatre companies) that this was a great organization to join because they have a ton of events also.  Luckily they were having a promotion if you signed up there, so instead of the regular $95/year to join, it cost me $80.  It was enough of an incentive for me to sign up immediately, and delayed my sign up to The Scriptwriter’s Network (am still planning on joining, I just couldn’t swing both financially at the same time so I took the better deal).  That was basically it for the expo.  There was an area where you could stack up your headshots for casting directors, but it didn’t feel great to me, so I didn’t.  Later in the hallway, I saw a guy sitting on the floor surrounded by various headshots, a woman stood above him and the conversation went something like this:

Woman: In the last workshop I was in the CD kept talking about how impressed she was by me.

Man: Hmm.

Woman: She even marked my resume with the word “Professional”, because I’m so professional.

Man says nothing.

Woman continues: I mean, I could play a lawyer or a doctor or…..

Man: Or a callgirl.

Woman: (Slight pause.) Yes, I guess I could play a call girl also.

And that’s about the time I started tuning out.  It’s moments like these that I hate being an actress or identified with that actress–so eager to please, to get work, that instead of emitting confidence, she is emitting desperation and the person she is speaking to is only oh so ready to pounce all over it.  It’s mean-spirited, and a horrible place to put an actress, and the CD knows exactly how desperate she is, and in this case seemed to be gaining some pleasure from the conversation. He won’t give her a job, but maybe he’ll let her give him a job.  So as I walked away from that scene, I reminded myself that I am a different actress–I am a confident, well-educated, trained, savvy, professional and I need to remember that at all times, because whatever you put out there, is exactly what people will give back.