Fiona on Fire | ONC 2023

02. auditions

Fiona was sitting in a dingy room waiting for an open audition for a small part in a TV show. A young woman with an English accent was assaulting her with unsolicited advice in between talking about herself.

"You've actually got excellent bone structure but too many acne scars. There's a product I know is good for that. I mean, I don't use it because I haven't got blemishes, but people tell me it works."

She flicked through her phone, clicking and tapping at the screen with absurdly long and sparkly fake nails. She showed Fiona the product. The price was listed below it: £120. She wasn't sure exactly what that was in USD, other than that it was too much.

"I'm only here because I like the show. People say it's too sexualized for a show about teenagers, but I love it. My uncle usually gets me more exclusive auditions."

"Who's your uncle?"

"Oh, you probably wouldn't know him, but he owns a popular fashion magazine. He's got lots of connections."

At last, a woman called Fiona's name with an impatient smile. Fiona stood and followed her into a back room.

A man took one look at her and began to speak about her like she wasn't there, or like she was an object to assess. "Not sure about the look. A bit too average."

"We'll read the dialogue on page five, darling," another man spoke. He began to read a male character's lines in a dull and uninterested tone.

Fiona took a deep breath, trying to remember everything her theater teacher had ever told her and apply it all at once. She spoke the lines with all the conviction she could muster, and then—

"I'll stop you there," the first man said. "Thank you."

That was it.

She walked out in a daze, past the English girl and straight out the door.

For years, she'd dreamed of the sun-soaked streets lined with palm trees or imagined spotting famous people casually walking their dogs. Now, all she felt was insecurity as she passed police telling a homeless man to go back to Skid Row.

This was how it went for the entire first eighteen months Fiona was in Los Angeles. Audition after audition. No callbacks. Some casting directors were outwardly nice, some were robotic and businesslike, and others did nothing to hide their impatience or distaste. Fiona fell into the soul-sucking rhythm of trying to sell herself to people who didn't seem to want her.

She took a waitressing job to help pay half of the rent with her roommate, Erin. Their apartment was cramped, and cockroaches weren't an uncommon sight.

At times, she felt like a fool for moving here and pursuing what should've remained a dream. A passing thought to be scoffed at and discarded. It was impractical, just like her parents had tried to tell her.

She spoke to people around her, at her job and at auditions. They often had similar stories. Most of them had been trying to make it for much longer than her—years—and none of them had succeeded. She wondered how they stayed motivated after so much rejection.

In her free time, she tried to hone her craft, constantly working at her acting. She watched videos of stars and acting coaches giving advice and took it to heart. She tried to improve her posture, her control over her voice, her ability to project and emote authentically. Erin was nice enough to run lines with her when she wasn't busy.

Fiona also tried altering her appearance, as if something was wrong with it. She did her hair differently, wore more makeup, and manicured her nails. Image was important if you wanted to get anywhere in this world.

At the end of her eighteenth month, she booked a commercial. It wasn't what she had in mind, but it paid and got her in front of a camera.

Then she booked another, this time for a cell phone company. It aired nationwide. Her parents called her, ecstatic, and boasted to everyone they knew. The company called her back to film more commercials.

It seemed like the ball was rolling now. She used some of the money she'd made to have professional headshots taken by a photographer. Then she sent these to a casting agent to get her into more TV and film auditions.

One day, she got an excited call from her agent. "I sent your headshot to a casting director working for a very popular filmmaker. They want you to audition."