My first short play, “Company Policy,” was announced as a finalist in the Actors Theatre of Louisville’s National 10-Minute Play Contest. One of 1,300 entries, the winners (including the $1,000 Heideman Award winner) will be announced in January.

*The Heideman Award was established in 1979. Made possible by the late Ted Heideman, a Louisvillian, the $1,000 cash prize is bestowed annually upon the winners of the National Ten-Minute Play Contest (1990 – present). The contest receives more than 1,400 short plays annually and is co-sponsored by Actors Theatre of Louisville and City Theatre in Miami.

Just four clips, but I think they show some range:
- “Glee” directed by Joss Whedon, in which I play a woman auditioning for a community theatre production of “Les Miz,” whose unfortunate song choice is interrupted by the arrival of Will Schuester (Matthew Morrison) and Bryan Ryan (Neil Patrick Harris, who won an Emmy for this episode).
- “Changeling” directed by Clint Eastwood, as the front desk nurse at the mental hospital where Christine Collins (Angelina Jolie) is first admitted and later returns with Reverend Briegleb (John Malkovich) and S.S. Hahn (Geoff Pierson).
- “Desperate Housewives” directed by David Warren, as Nurse Parker, who gets between Susan (Teri Hatcher) and Edie (Nicollette Sheridan) in a hospital tug-of-war.
- “LA Twister” directed by Sven Pape, as Marilyn, a casting director whose handling of Lenny (Zach Ward) soon requires a firm hand.

Click here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ji9yi1Y2AqQ

http://fuckyeahgleesecrets.tumblr.com/post/660987716

Check out this fun link (and ignore the silly name).

Wendy Does Stand-Up

Wendy made her stand-up debut on Rebecca O’Brien’s Stage at Elderberries Restaurant in Hollywood in February.  The evening featured headliner Taylor Negron.  (Wendy appeared with Taylor in eight episodes of “So Little Time,” starring the Olsen Twins.)  Look for more appearances to come.

As I don’t write anything stronger than PG-13 (for an occasional round of violence in some longer pieces), I can confess that I write fan fiction.  I haven’t been doing a lot of it lately, but I am honored whenever work I’ve posted online is read, reviewed, and acknowledged by readers.  It’s great to hear feedback–that’s the way a writer gets “paid” for this kind of writing.

I’ve been nominated a number of times for my work online, and I’ve just received SIX more nominations for four pieces I’ve written under my pen name, Elise Wanderer (Elise is my middle name, and Wendy means “wanderer” in some baby books–maybe not wildly original, but I needed something to go by when I started writing online).

I’m also going to confess that everything I’ve written online has been part of one fandom, the Harry Potter universe created by JK Rowling.  (There was a time, long ago, before the internet, when I wrote Star Trek fiction, but I’m not admitting to that now.  Forget you read this part of my confession, in fact.)

Within the “Potterverse,” I only write about one character, Severus Snape.  And I am one of those weird-os who believe that there is one true match for Professor Snape in the canon of the seven books, though it took me awhile to come ‘round to that way of thinking.  It might be a problem that she spends all seven books as his student (a hindrance to any romance right there) and then dies at the end (sorry, is that still a spoiler? he may not really be dead!), but we fans of this particular pairing don’t let that get in our way.  We simply plunge ahead with finding ways to get Severus together with the smartest, sharpest, most available female in the books who isn’t insane, evil, dead, or really old.

So if you’re curious about it, you might want to start with the first one, which is just a little piece written for Severus Snape’s birthday (which is January 9, in case you didn’t know, and he just turned 50, by the way).  I’ll point you in the right direction, and you should be able to find more if you’re intrigued.

“Letter to My Son” received two nominations.  It’s archived at the Online Wizarding Library (OWL) at this address:
http://owl.tauri.org/stories.php?psid=8395

I haven’t been writing fan fiction for about a year now, because I’ve been concentrating instead on writing original murder mysteries.  My ambition is to become the Dick Francis of the entertainment industry.  I was very sad to read of his death the other day.  For anyone who hasn’t had the pleasure of reading his work, he was a championship steeplechase jockey in the UK who turned to writing mystery thrillers when he retired.  All his books (more than 40 of them) have something to do with horse racing; he made very good use of the environment he knew.

So I have been following his lead, using my own writing to take readers behind the scenes at movie studios and TV shows, the world I know from a long career as an actor.  I’ve finished the first book and am working now on finding the right literary agent to get it published.  The second book is in the works, and it all started with Severus Snape.  Thank you, Professor!  I’m glad you have such wonderful fans.

(ferporcel made this lovely banner.  Those aren’t my legs.  Wish they were.)

It was the summer of 2007.  The recession hadn’t quite gotten started, and the 100-day-long writers’ strike that marked the beginning of a cataclysmic downturn in Hollywood was still just a threat.  I didn’t know it yet, but something else was about to happen to change my life in a significant way.  I overdosed, and things have never been the same since.  I ingested too much Harry Potter all at once, and it launched a writing career.

There was this weekend in July.  I could look up which one it was exactly, but it the precise date isn’t that important.  It was the weekend that “Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows” was released.

I’d been reading the books and seeing the films as they came out, and I had been enjoying JK Rowling’s imaginative and complex world.  I wasn’t a rabid fan by any means, but I know a classic when I see one, and I liked being around for the arrival of something with a measurable cultural impact.  Her basic concept, and the intricacy with which she had constructed it, had that kind of “duh, why didn’t I think of that?” feel to them, and I am still impressed.

I decided to purchase the book from an independent bookstore, but I did not intend to join one of the midnight vigils and snag one of the first copies to be sold.  By happenstance, I was also seeing the film of the fifth book, “Order of the Phoenix” that same weekend.  I purchased the book and started to read.  By page 200, I knew I was in trouble.

It had been too long since I’d read Book 6 (“Half-Blood Prince”).  I couldn’t remember a lot of what had happened before the final book, much less what took place in “OtP,” so I set it aside until the screening.  As soon as I’d watched the film (always a much-abridged version of the books, by necessity), I dug out “HBP” and read it through at once.  I then read the final book.

I laughed that Monday night as I watched “The Colbert Report,” because while watching it I was doing exactly what he had his audience doing: reading the final, just-released Harry Potter book.  I had it balanced on my knees with the TV on, unable to go to sleep.  “Just one more chapter….”

By the end of the day on Tuesday, I had finished.  In the space of three days, I had swallowed the last 60% of the saga in huge chunks.

And now I was REALLY in trouble.

I had come to the end of Rowling’s journey.  It was over.  Voldemort was dead, Harry had been reanimated, Ron and Hermione were married, and all was right with the wizarding world.  But now I needed a Potter “fix.”

I confessed as much to a friend in an email, and she suggested that there was a lot online that I might find interesting.  I Googled “Harry Potter,” and the floodgates opened wide.

As one of the original “Trekkers” in the early 1970s, I had been in touch with other fans of the original “Star Trek” series.  There was no internet then, of course, so being “in touch” took legwork and the cooperation of the United States Postal Service.  There was some fan fiction out there, original writing that used Gene Roddenberry’s characters and the universe he had created to continue and expand the fascination the creator had established.

Getting to it was another matter indeed.  The individual writers were isolated, though some were also (pardon the expression) very enterprising.  Those with access to mimeograph machines–remember those?–created what were called “fanzines,” their own limited-edition publications of collected writings.  If you found out about someone who published a fanzine, you could order your own copy–send a self-addressed, stamped envelope, a check to cover printing costs and maybe a little extra for the work involved, and a letter requesting a copy.  Weeks later, your treasure would arrive in the mail.

I used to own a few examples.  I still have two, though I’m a little embarrassed to share them with anyone.  While I never did order some of the most notorious material, the two pieces I still have are quite shocking in their own right.  They both center on writings about Sarek and Amanda, Spock’s parents.  I’m not going to say anything else (I’m blushing too hard).  I’m just going to show you the frontpiece from one of them: beautiful artwork and excellent writing.  Explicit, but excellent.

Next: Discovering the Potterverse

I am a member of a number of online communities on LiveJournal, my social-networking-site-of-choice.  One of them is called “5_for_five.” Those of us in it have committed to writing a minimum of 500 words a day, five days a week.  We report in every Monday on how we’ve done.  I am very proud to say that I’ve achieved my goal every week since June 2, 2009 (110,445 words as of yesterday!).  It sounds easy, until you try to do it, but it’s the reason I can now call myself a “real” writer.

Five hundred words isn’t a lot.  It is roughly what I’m aiming for in this entry (which will count as my 500 words for Saturday, November 14, 2009).  It’s enough to get across some basic concepts, to start a scene in a novel, to begin a short story.  It’s also just enough to convince yourself that you don’t know squat about putting words together in a coherent way.  It’s enough to stop you from writing, if you let it.  It’s also enough to make you finish a book, remember why you love writing, and gain a sense of satisfaction in manageable increments.

There are two concepts that make it such a great tool.  First, it’s doable.  I can write 500 words in less than half an hour (considerably less if I’m inspired, but I don’t rely on inspiration–I’d never get anything down in print by waiting).  I don’t count editing in my daily goal.  I can’t figure out an easy way to keep track of it or believe me I would!  But if I write a whole new section for something, I’m certainly going to count that.  However, 500 new words is a great daily goal, and it doesn’t have to be all on a single project or one set topic.

It also doesn’t have to be brilliant.  I can change those 500 words later, delete every last one of them if I want to, but not the same day I write them.  That day, I have to save at least 500 words.

Emailing doesn’t count.  That’s my own rule, however.  My online colleagues trust me to be honest on my word count.

The second reason it’s a great tool is that it’s five days a week, not seven.  Two days a week, I’m free to write absolutely nothing.  There have been many days when I’ve decided this was going to be one of those days and then have gone on to write some not-half-bad prose.  I think that’s my inner child throwing a hissy fit and then doing it anyway, just to spite me.  But I can take a day off without having to explain anything, and that frees me to stick to the overall goal.  If I could get that mentality to work when I’m trying to diet, I’d be as skinny as I think I am sometimes!

Committing to writing 500 words a day means that I have to find time to write, even a little bit, just about every day.  Taking two days off means that I can consciously choose not to write today.  This past Thursday, I wrote 55 words.  That’s all I could manage.  I don’t even remember what they were, but I recorded them, because that was my day off.  However, today I wrote 565 words, and you just read them.  Now, what shall I write tomorrow?

Ah, those pesky little opportunities to get work!  I’ve been updating the records I’ve been keeping over the past 13 years of all the auditions I’ve gone on and all the acting jobs that have come from them.

Many jobs have not come directly from auditions but have been laid neatly in my lap.  I was blessed with a job on the last season of The Drew Carey Show once.  They called my agent, told him they wanted me for an episode that would be filmed in two or three weeks.  They didn’t know yet what the role would be.  It turned out that the episode was about Mimi forming her own all-girl rock band, and I would be one of the members.

When the script arrived, I was a man-hating lesbian with two good solid scenes and a lot of snappy dialogue.  After the first day, the script was rewritten.  I was now a man-hungry straight woman with two decent scenes and some snappy dialogue.  After the second day, they had recast two roles, and I was now a disgruntled band member of indeterminate sexual orientation who was in two scenes and had two lines of dialogue.  Oh, and we were now a free-form jazz ensemble.

Drew gave me an orchid on the day we filmed.

Anyway, I was talking about auditions.  I can chart the changes in the business through these statistics.   First, the number of TV auditions I’ve been on over the years has dropped noticeably.  As reality shows have increased and scripted television (on network TV, anyway) has dropped off, opportunities for guest spots on TV have dipped.  Over the years, I’ve averaged 22 TV auditions per year.  In 2007 and 2008, I had just 15 apiece.  This year so far, I’ve only had 10–and one was for a webseries.  I realize as well that I should start to keep track of which ones are for network shows and which are for other kinds of programming.  Cable TV has become one of the nest places for good dramatic work, but it doesn’t always pay as well (especially in reruns).

Film has dropped of, too, though I’ve been lucky there in getting a lot of chances to work with top directors.  I’ve played with Clint Eastwood (Changeling), Steven Spielberg (Catch Me If You Can), Robert Zemeckis (Cast Away), Paul Haggis (In the Valley of Elah), Judd Apatow (Walk Hard), and I got my SAG card doing Philadelphia with Jonathan Demme.  And while in three of those cases, my stellar work ended up on the cutting room floor, I still had the chance to do the work.  But although I’ve averaged 14 film auditions a year, I haven’t hit that average since 2002.

(left) Not the greatest quality shot, but still one you won’t get to see otherwise; Wendy as the high school receptionist, Lenore, in a scene that was cut from Paul Haggis’ In the Valley of Elah. The character was described in the script as “cheerful, helpful, and dumb as a stump.”

Commercials have been a real kick in the pants.  I was lucky enough to sign with the best team of commercial agents a person could have right after I arrived in Los Angeles.  (How I met them is a story for another time, but they are truly terrific.)  They stuck with me for four and a half years before I started making them any money.

I’ve never struck it that big in commercials, but I have lucked out a few times.  I did a spot for Chex Party Mix once that ran for eight Christmases and was huge fun to see every holiday for all that time.  I did two spots for Jack in the Box, and those of you who live east of the Mississippi and didn’t ever see any of these have been missing out on one of the wittiest ongoing ad campaigns ever designed.  I liked one of the spots so much (one in which I played a rather forceful Russian masseuse) that I put it on my “reel,” the collection of clips of my work that I keep around to show potential employers.

Over the years, I averaged 23 commercial auditions a year.  I’ve had nine this year.  Fortunately, one of them was a promo spot for HBO, which still seems to be going strong, but the opportunities to keep supporting my commercial agents have dwindled significantly.

However, I am always hopeful.  The next great job could be just an audition away.  Every time the phone rings, it signals possibility….

The audition was in September, and it was for a nurse.  I’ve played many in my time.  My mother went through all the hassle of earning a nursing degree and still works full-time in the same operating room she began in more than 30 years ago (the name of the place has changed many times over the years, but she still drives to the same complex of buildings).  She’s my technical adviser, especially when it comes to pronouncing the names of drugs or medical procedures.

She wouldn’t get to be one on this, though, as the film takes place in the 1920s, and the institution is a county mental hospital.  It was apparent from the script pages I was given that there were a number of nurses, and the dialogue here was for several of them.  I broke it into three chunks and asked if I could read each one a slightly different way.  The casting assistant put me on videotape, and once I had done it, I then tried to put out of my mind the fact that I’d auditioned for a Clint Eastwood movie.

Almost two months later, I got a call from my agent, confirming that I had been cast.  I was playing the Receiving Nurse.  They sent the script; I read it, and I was blown away.  It’s an incredible story, and the screenwriter,  J. Michael Straczynski, did a terrific job of telling it.  (This turned out to be a great thing, as we filmed it while the 100-day writers’ strike was going on, and he wouldn’t have been allowed to do any rewrites had they been needed.)

But I didn’t see my part anywhere in the script.  The pages they had sent for the audition were taken directly from the script, and all the roles of nurses were simply designated as “Nurse.”  When I arrived in the set, I asked the 2nd AD, who told me to memorize all the lines (even the ones I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be saying) in order to be ready for whatever our director decided.

Mr. Eastwood is famous for finishing ahead of schedule and under budget, so I was prepared when my start date kept getting pushed up.  In the end, I don’t think I had more than a couple of days’ warning.  Suddenly, I was on the set, meeting the director, rehearsing with Angelina Jolie, and happily working.  A friend of mine, Dale Dickey, was also working when I arrived, playing one of the crazy patients, and I started bonding with some of the other nurses, as well.

I worked the last six days of the shoot, ending two days ahead of schedule in early December.  (The finished film made it to Cannes the following spring–talk about a fast turnaround!)  Because I was there on the final day of shooting, and was, in fact, in the very last scene we shot, I got to attend the wrap party and be part of the cast and crew photograph.  (I’m still trying to get a copy.)  The whole experience was a pleasure.

And don’t try to read anything into the mystery novel I completed recently.  The characters, situations, and plot of the movie that takes place in How I Wonder Who You Are is purely fictitious.  Though everything in it could have happened….

In my living room, I have a dish filled with name badges from many of the roles I’ve played over the years.  I’m not always able to talk the props department out of parting with them or there would be more.  (I don’t, for instance, have the nice gold metal one I wore to play a prison guard at Alcatraz on the series Dangerous Minds.)

Many times, these badges are worn by nurses–I’ve played a lot of nurses in my time.  (Ironic, as my mother happens to be a real nurse.)  Some favorites have included various nurses on Ghost Whisperer, including one who helped Melinda (Jennifer Love Hewitt) give birth to a litter of naked cats in a dream sequence.  I have one from a psychiatric hospital in the film Good Burger, one I wore in a couple of episode of Desperate Housewives, and one I wore as a home health nurse in a quirky little film called Love Comes to the Executioner.

The badge I wore as a hotel worker in Krippendorf’s Tribe identified me as Kim Gravnik; rumor has it that was the director’s sister’s name.  I have a badge from one of the many cafeteria ladies I’ve played, Miss Poupiepenz, who worked in food services on Sabrina the Teenage Witch.  I’ve even got the badge I wore in my first-ever union movie, the memorable classic, Mannequin II: On the Move.

I have a badge with a very unattractive period photo of me that I wore to play the receptionist at the Pan Am Building in Steven Spielberg’s Catch Me If You Can; in that scene, I got to play with Leonard DiCaprio.  I also have a badge I wore for six weeks, playing the bank manager who is taken hostage by a team of robbers that included Sean Patrick Flanery, Dean Cain, Andy Dick, Luke Wilson, and Drew Barrymore, in Tamra Davis’ Best Men.

I didn’t wear a badge to play the nurse who helped lock up Christine Collins (Angelina Jolie), the same nurse who later saved her from electroshock therapy, in Clint Eastwood’s Changeling.  In that film, I wore a family heirloom instead: a Red Cross watch on a retractable chain that belonged to some distant relative.  I’m not sure I had anything at all to identify me as the nurse who wheeled Steve Martin to an unexpected prostate exam in Father of the Bride II.

My “name badge roles” haven’t always been prominent appearances, but each badge in that jar holds good memories of an interesting project and amazing people.  I treasure my little pin-on collection.