Well, the time is coming folks. My birthday is around the corner, and I will officially be O.A.F. True, I feel like that every year, but this year I feel like I really am getting old.
On the plus side, I do feel like I have accomplished some things since my last birthday. I wrote four books, had a Christmas story released, and signed a contract for a new series. But there is always that little voice in the back of your head that says, But you wanted a literary agent by this birthday. YOU FAILED! MWAHAHAHA!
And it’s true; I wanted a literary agent by this unnamed birthday, and that didn’t happen. Though there are some potentially promising emails that have arrived. Not that that really means anything.
I’ve also recently been told that I was too old for an ensemble part in a show. I’ve heard too tall, to curvy, too soprano, but too old is a thing I haven’t been told since I aged out of Annie auditions. Truth be told, I really don’t think I’m too old at all. It’s more like too tall with a side of big boobs, but whatever.
But with the agent thing and the too old for ensemble dilemma, I have to remember something my mother told me: It all depends on who shows up.
You may be great for Maria in Sound of Music, but if Julie Andrews shows up, you aren’t going to get the role. It’s just that simple.
If a pack of four girls who look like they’re nineteen can be in the show, you’re right, I do look too old. I look like a woman – not an old woman – but still a definitive woman. And that’s okay.
Same with agents. I recently exchanged a pleasant string of emails with an agent who truly liked my writing but had a book about high school theatre already on his list. I’m really grateful for that interaction, because it reminded me that it really all does depend on who shows up. They might love my YA Fantasy, but if J.K. Rowling shows up, she’s going to get the contract. It has nothing to do with me, and everything to do with who else is in the room or rather the query inbox.
So going into my O.A.F. birthday, as terrible as it sounds, I hope I can end up in a show where the chorus girls don’t look like wee babies and end up in an agent’s inbox who hasn’t heard from J.K. Rowling lately. And who knows? Maybe in a few birthdays I can be singing “The Ladies Who Lunch” while the chorus girls work a hell of a lot harder than I do for less recognition, and I’ll be the new J.K. Rowling of the book party.
In the meantime, I’ll just keep trekking on. I may have big boobs and no agent, but dammit, I’m a working actor and a published author. And that’ll just have to be good enough for this O.A.F chorus girl.