A Struggling Actress

Hi. I'm Leanne. If you can't tell by the title of this work or the photo above, I am a struggling actress. I used to be just struggling, but then I actually booked a few gigs here and there. Let me tell you about my most recent one.

I was an extra for this upcoming Paramount show called The Offer, starring Miles Teller and Matthew Goode. It was brutal. We had to stand outside in forty-three degree weather for about six hours. I was wearing a skirt and tights. We wrapped at around 3 AM. Like I said, it was brutal.

However, I did have a good lunch break (the film bros call it lunch, but it was actually dinner). I hadn't eaten a single thing since breakfast, so I was pretty delirious as we approached the 9 PM meal.

I had steak, brown rice, chimmichuri sauce, and a lot of vegetables. Since I hadn't eaten all day, the abrupt and dramatic shift in my blood sugar made my brain all wonky. I started laughing uncontrollably and oversharing to the people sitting next to me. Consequently, the guy across from me smirked and blurted out "I could see you starring in your own show."

I couldn't tell you this guy's name for the life of me. But, for the sake of this entry, we'll call him Cody, because he seriously looked like Cody from the Suite Life of Zack and Cody.

Cody made my night. I live for compliments, and validation is my best friend. It's the only thing that keeps me going. That and jealousy. Is it healthy? Probably not, but I don't care.

So, you can imagine how I, a struggling actress, felt upon hearing those glowing words escape Cody's mouth and part the red seas of my ketosis-induced delirium.

Suddenly, the night sky was colorful, the stars were brighter, the air was warmer, and my indigestion wasn't as painful. My faith in humanity was restored, and hope for my future was replenished.

I walked back onto set with a new mindset. As I stood outside of the theater and watched the main actors dance through the same scene over and over again, I couldn't help but cry. Not because I was freezing or because my loafers were a size too big or because I definitely wasn't going to get more than one second of screen time out of this tramautizing work day, but because I was genuinely happy regardless of the pain and desperation.

The world the cast and crew had built was beautiful. It was an incredibly sophisticated, thoughtful, and transformative set. Even though I was mostly uninvolved, being taken out of reality for that one night was so cathartic. It was the closest I've gotten to the feeling I have been searching for since childhood.

During my junior year of high school, just as all of my classmates started to apply for college, I decided I wanted to be an actress (it was a dream I had since I was five, but I had never acted on it -- no pun intended). I wanted to skip college, but my parents made me apply anyway. They supported my dream, but I wasn't allowed to opt out of college -- that would be too risky. Clearly, they weren't so sure I'd be able to pull it off.

In this phase of pre-adulthood, family dinners and reunions were always troublesome. All of my relatives would ask me about my plans for the future. I'd tell them I was going to college, but then I'd break the news to them that the diploma is just a backup for what I really want to do.

Upon confessing that I want to become an actress, I'd get the same obnoxious responses.

"That's really hard," they'd tell me.

"One in a million," they'd say.

"Like, as a side job?" they'd ask.

Nonetheless, I stayed strong and remained proud of my passion. The more doubts they had, the more I wanted to prove them wrong. And, surprisingly, the more negativity I received, the more I felt like I could do it. There's something invigorating and empowering about believing in something that nobody else believes in. Like, the fact that I believed in the career so deeply felt like a sign that it was meant for me. And, being the only believer made me feel like I could see something they couldn't see.

However, when they asked me why I wanted to act, I could never put my reasoning into words, as I couldn't even understand my motivations myself. So, I tried to answer like how I thought other starlets would answer: for the fame... for the money... because it's fun! But no response ever satisfied me. I couldn't put my finger on it. That is, until one night -- I had a mental breakdown about my future, and my sister popped the revelation-inducing question.

"Do you want to be an actor because you don't like reality?" she asked.

Until that moment, it was always hard for me to explain the way I felt about acting. But suddenly, my dream was clear. Ever since I was a kid, the things I saw on TV or in movies were consistently better than what I saw or experienced in real life. So, I wanted the TV and movies to become my life.

I assure you that I don't have a bad life at all -- I have perfect parents, a perfect sister, and perfect best friends, and I'm so grateful for my comfortable life circumstances, as I know that a life like mine is rare. But, clearly, my outlook on life hasn't been the most optimistic.

I've never truly felt comfortable anywhere. Pre-school terrified me, I was bullied throughout elementary school, middle school was constant agony, and high school completely destroyed me. I've been in college for the past three years, and the only thing that's gotten me through it is the idea of graduating and finally being able to act full-time. I've even taken the maximum course load each quarter just so I can get out a year early.

As a constantly uncomfortable and anxious person, stepping outside of myself and escaping reality has been my only form of complete and authentic relief. No amount of therapy, drugs, or meditation can snap me out of reality as well as acting can. That's why I fell in love with the art, and that's why I've been so hopelessly devoted to my dream.

The scene is the only place I feel completely safe and comfortable expressing myself and my emotions. When the words are written for you, you can embed your own intentions, values, and meanings between the lines without actually saying anything explicitly about yourself. It's like letting it all out for everyone to see without actually showing anyone anything.

Now that I'm finally making TV and movies my life, I'm excited to use acting to experience new worlds, speak my truth, express my emotions, and do things I've felt too afraid or out-of-place to do in real life.

The past four years have been hard for me. Rejection is second nature to a struggling actress, but I'd be lying if I said it didn't take a toll on my self-esteem and self-worth. So, when Cody told me he could see me in my own show, it was like he was performing electrical cardioversion on my fatigued heart.

I will never forget the horrid night I had as an extra for The Offer. The treacherous experience reminded me that I'm not doing this for the unstable income, the rare screen time, the dangerous fame, or the tedious fun. I'm doing it for myself. It's not just something I want -- it's something I need. And hopefully I can make a long-lasting career out of it.

I don't know what the future holds, but I have a really good feeling about it.

Who knows... maybe Cody is a psychic.