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The Actors' Survival Guide.  Page 1 2 3 4 5 6
 
   
     
 

What Type Of Actor Are You?
Casting Directors, Advertising Agencies, Talent Agents, all want to know one thing: What is your type? How can they cast you? Are you a young father type, middle-aged executive, edgy drifter? Therein lies the key. Knowing your type is essential to knowing what roles fit your "look" best. For instance, I look in the mirror and see Warren Beatty. The mirror sees Ned Beatty. So you've got to know how to cast yourself as the casting directors see you...not as you see you.

Talker
Attends every seminar known to man. Knows everything there is to know about finding an agent, winning auditions, working in LA or New York. Full of free advice. Lives with parents. Sells shoes for a living. Only acting consists of practicing monologue in front of bathroom mirror.

Climber
Has looks, maybe even talent, but expects job on a silver platter. Sucks up to anybody who can provide a break. Flaunts surgically enhanced cleavage, if female, biceps if male. Some flaunt both. Pretty much despised by Ïreal"actors."Usually succeeds.

Artiste
Lives in a loft. Fashionable hairstyle. Pontificates endlessly on the struggles of acting. Gets rent check from Mom every month.

Bragger
Ego: Texas. Talent: Thimble. Makes a big show of schmoozing with director and stars. Always first in line for free coffee. Delivers headshots to director's trailer every morning. Known as "King of the Extras," by actors and agents alike.

Starving Artist:
Has a master's degree in theatre. Works as a waiter. Rents a room by the subway. Puts up with total harassment from yuppie relatives who own their own homes and work nine-to-five and are secretly jealous. Would rather act than breath which is often the case. Lives from audition to audition. Has no life.

Deadbeat:
Lives in one-bedroom apartment with a wall bed. Works out of home doing websites. Lives from check-to-check while he lives for commercial auditions. Survives on care packages. Late 30's, single, no visible assets, except for an '89 VW Jetta.* And a bunch of parking tickets.

*As of this writing (September, 2002,) I just moved up to a
'91 VW Cabriolet.

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I wrote these bits at different times over the years.

Although I write them toungue-firmly-planted-in-cheek (of whoever's hiring at the moment,) it's strange, looking at them, how true many of these things are.

by Richard Bischoff
©2002, Richard Bischoff
 May not be reprinted without permission.

 
 
 
   
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