Overslept. Ran to my storytelling class at 10 AM, with neither orange juice nor green tea, nor a drop of coffee in my bod. Had a Ricola when we had a break. Plan had been to get up early, work slowly on my layered make-up, so that by 1 PM, when I was to meet my director at the house to shoot my stylized audition piece, at least I'd have that much ready. It was not to be. For a moment, I debated not going to class. Girrl, what are you thinkin'? It was one of the best classes yet, and had I missed it, I would never have known. Our teacher had us use some great prompts to write the bones of a new story, based on one we had begun last week. Well, now I have two new story bones. And a lot more work to do to flesh them out. And, I got to hear four tellers tell in class, and each one was brilliant in their distinct way.
I left class at noon exactly, having apologized to my teacher in advance that I would have to do so. I got home early enough to finish the make-up, throw on the wig, design some sort of disheveled look - a silk blouse with faux silver and ivory cameo pin, and a pashmina scarf as shawl - for a woman in Virgina in the 1860s, and gather my wits. I typed up my short scene, used large fonts, printed it out, just in case I panicked when the camera started rolling. My director worked on re-staging my living room, added amazing lighting, and all went well.
Now I await the clip I briefly reviewed and selected (you know, on that tiny screen that pulls out of the video cam?), to be sent to me, then I will upload it to a private YouTube site, and hope the casting folks in L.A. like what they see. I can't disclose the content, but I'll say this - it's in tune with Black History Month.
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