"Hollywould-Not"

Convinced that he is an excellent actor, an 8th grade idealist with big ideas believes that he can make it to Hollywood and embarks on a ridiculous but humorous adventure to get "discovered".

           It wasn’t until the end of my middle school years at Mount Piedmont that I had my first big idea. As I prepared to finish the eighth grade, I reflected on all of my dramatic years of adolescence, as if it were so long ago, and realized how much of it felt like a television show. So, naturally, I decided to become an actor. I assumed that it couldn’t be so hard and that I of all people had the life experience for it.

            “You’re going to be an actor?” Kelley asked me with a chuckle. We were eating lunch in the cafeteria with our friends Renee and Josh. In the one year and a half we’d known each other, Kelley and I grew out of our textbook-writing, name-calling antics and became good friends. So when I’d decided to pursue a career in Hollywood, she was the first person I told.

            “Yeah, can you believe it? This is going to be awesome,” I chirped.

            “That’s one way to put it,” Kelley muttered under her breath.

            “What was that?” I snapped back.

            Renee smiled and cut in, “I’m sure you’re going to do great.”

            “No, wait,” I stammered. “What’s wrong? What are you saying?”

            “Nothing,” Renee said unconvincingly.

            “Josh, how about you?” I asked with concern. Josh just looked down at his tray, stabbing at his lettuce with his fork.

            “Listen,” Kelley tried to say nicely, “You can’t act to save your life.”

            “What?”

            Now, I didn’t consider myself the next Will Smith or Denzel Washington, but I was thoroughly convinced that I could become a solid, and possibly award-winning, actor. So it was a bit disheartening to learn that my friends didn’t have the same faith in me. Regardless of their opinions, I had to save my joke of a reputation by the time high school came around. And I knew that becoming a Hollywood star was the best way to boost my cred.

            “You guys don’t understand,” I tried to explain. “In sixth grade..,”

            “We know what happened,” all three of them said in unison.

            “Well, then you know that I’ve dealt with a lot of personal drama first-hand.”

            “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you can act out scripted drama,” Kelley argued.

            “Yes, it does.”

            “No, it doesn’t.”

            “Fine,” I huffed in defeat. “Believe what you want to believe.”

            I stood up from the table in protest and headed towards the parking lot, “I’m going to go follow my dreams, with or without you.”

            “But don’t you have Algebra next period?” Kelley asked, rolling her eyes.

            “Oh, yeah,” I remembered. “Want to walk to class together?”

 

            That afternoon, I told my parents about my new passion for acting and how I wanted to pursue it, immediately. They weren’t thrilled about the idea but decided to appease my demands for their support, assuming that nothing would come of this sporadic life decision. Of course, they probably didn’t expect that I’d do my own research on the Internet. I realized that, instead of gunning for movie roles, I first needed to audition for a teen drama series. So I set my sights on the show Degrassi: The Next Generation.

            “That’s hilarious,” Meredith responded, when I told her about my idea. Meredith, Rachael, and Scott, whom I’d bonded with at that Sharptop retreat the year before, also became good friends of mine, until they transferred schools the next year. She and I constantly watched Degrassi on the weekends, because it felt so similar to our own lives. We felt as if we could relate to the school shootings, gonorrhea outbreaks, anorexia fads, teen pregnancies, and cocaine addictions that the kids at Degrassi dealt with. So on that Monday afternoon, the two of us did some digging in the computer lab and found the show’s casting site. The site allowed fans to apply for the chance of being screen-tested.

            “This one asks which character you are most like,” Meredith read, when we got that question on the application.

            “I’d say Jimmy, except for being paralyzed from the waist down by a rabid school shooter,” I decided.

            “Sounds good,” she said, typing out my response on the screen. We were finally completing the application when Meredith cringed at the fine print. “Oh, crap.”

            “What is it?” I asked, trying to find the line she was reading.

            “You have to be a Canadian citizen to be on the show,” she pointed out.

            “What? Degrassi isn’t in America?!” I exclaimed.

            “I guess not.”

             I was livid, “Damn Canadians! They get everything. First, Avril Lavigne. And now this.”

            “So what are you going to do?” Meredith asked.

            “I’m going to find another way. It’ll come to me, sooner or later.”

 

            Something did come to me, two weeks later, in form of a radio advertisement. I was waiting in my mom’s car, waiting for her to come out of the grocery story, when I heard a booming voice over the radio.

            “Do you want to be a star?” the radio announcer said enthusiastically.

            “Yes!” I cheered, turning up the volume.

            “Do you think you can be the next big face on television?”

            “Yes!”

            “Are you waiting for that moment to get discovered?”

            “Yes, yes, yes!” I danced around in the car. The announcer went on to inform me about the Starlight Talent showcase that was auditioning for actors in Atlanta. They were going to hold a huge showcase the next month where the chosen few would perform in front of dozens of talent agents from around the country. My mom couldn’t even make it to the car with her groceries before I bombarded her with pleading, begging, and even some fake crying. I was determined to make the showcase.

            After days of begging to audition and even involving my sister Lydia in the process, my parents decided that we would all take a trip downtown and give this audition a shot. So my sister and I practiced our own monologues we got from the Internet in preparation for the big day. Mine was an extremely melodramatic portrayal of a teen finding out about his parents’ divorce. I didn’t know it at the time, but dramatic acting really was not my forte.

 

            That weekend, my family made a trip down to the Marriott hotel, where the auditions were being held, and made ourselves acquainted with the Starlight Talent directors Beth and Melissa. They were both in their mid-thirties and dressed very professionally. But my mom immediately began asking questions and made her suspicions of the company’s legitimacy pretty clear. My sister and I, on the other hand, tried to stay on their good side.

            “So why do you want to be an actor?” Beth asked me from her table, once I’d stepped in the audition room for my session.

            “Well, ever since I’ve been a child, I’ve dreamed of being an actor,” I lied. “I love to act because it’s the best way to connect with people on a personal level. You really send a message to the audience.”

            “Oh, you’ve performed in front of an audience before?” Melissa asked.

            “Yes, I was the lead in a school play,” I lied again, referencing the school play You’re Only Young Once. I actually was in the play but only on stage for just a few minutes. I was as far from “lead” as you could get.

            “That’s awesome,” Beth grinned. “Who are you influences in film and television?”

            “Who are my influences?” I repeated back, trying to think of examples that would make me seem cultured. “Well, Frankie Muniz is great in Agent Cody Banks. He has great range.”

            “Alright, then,” Melissa nodded at my ridiculous answer. “Let’s hear your monologue.”

            For the next two minutes, I delivered my completely unrealistic monologue of shouting and fake crying and concluded with a melodramatic exit from the room. I walked back in, out of character, to see the two women smiling pleasantly at my performance. They were obviously better actors than I was.

            “That was excellent,” Beth said to me, pretending to be very impressed. “We’ll definitely love to see more of you for the showcase.”

            “Really?!” I exclaimed in joy. “Thank you so, so, so much!”

 

            The next day at school, all I could talk about was how much the showcase directors “loved” me. In my defense, I really did believe they loved me. I was so ecstatic, I even reenacted my monologue at the lunch table that afternoon.

            “What do you think?” I asked my friends, who were left expressionless after I finished my monologue. “Okay, say something.”

            “It wasn’t that great,” Kelley said truthfully. The others hesitantly nodded in agreement.

            “You can’t be serious. Beth and Melissa are freaking Hollywood agents and they thought I was ‘excellent,’” I argued defensively.

            “Well, you weren’t,” Josh shot me down. “I’m sorry, man.”

            “Don’t you ever hear those acting audition horror stories?” Kelley added. “They suck all the money out of the kids’ parents and never get them any real jobs. It happens all the time.”

            “So you think they actually lied to me for money?”

            Kelley, Josh, and Renee all nodded in agreement.

            “That’s ridiculous. And I’m going to prove it. I’m going to that showcase and I’m getting an agent. Then, I’ll get a huge role and, when I make a lot of money, I won’t share any of it with you,” I snapped at them, unaware that they were only trying to save me from future embarrassment.

 

            For the next few weeks, Lydia and I practiced our joint monologue for about an hour each day. Beth suggested that we perform together, so that the agents could see us interacting as well as acting. So we chose to perform the Jessica and Ashlee Simpson Liquid Ice commercial and got the script to practice with.

            “It’s liquid,” Lydia said aloud, trying not to read the script.

            “It’s ice,” I boomed with a smile.

            “It’s liquid ice,” we said together, concluding the piece. “Okay, Lydia, you can’t just say ‘ice’ in a quiet voice. You have to yell ‘ice’ with a commercial voice! Don’t you remember the Jessica Simpson commercial?”

            “Yeah, but they didn’t yell in the commercial,” Lydia replied. She was only eleven but convinced that she knew more about the business than I did. In reality, we both knew absolutely nothing about it.

            “This is a stage performance, Lydia,” I said condescendingly. “You have to project your voice. Use your common sense.”

            “Don’t tell me to use my common sense,” she shot back. “Mom!”

            And, once again, just like every night, our practicing ended in another fight and Lydia ended up getting Mom involved. Regardless of the downsides, I was determined to continue practicing so that we would impress the talent agents.

 

            It was finally the big day and I was convinced that was Hollywood material. Clad in what I believed was classy attire, with my blue buttoned shirt and black slacks, I entered the glitzy ballroom with my family. It was filled with a huge audience of parents, who were sitting behind a long table of about thirty agency representatives. It wasn’t until I saw these parents that I realized just how many other kids were performing on stage. But I kept my morale up and told myself that I was going to be the star of the showcase.

            When Beth called for Lydia and I to prepare to go onstage next, I stood anxiously by the side of the stage, trying not to look terrified. I watched the girl before me reciting her inappropriate monologue from Mean Girls and, as much as I hated to admit it to myself, she was pretty good. So when she walked off stage, my sister and I immediately replaced her spot. We recited our entire script word-for-word and even flashed a smile with, “It’s liquid ice!” For the most part, our performance went smoothly and was well-received by the crowd.

            After the showcase, the actors and their families became acquainted with the talent agents, in hopes that they would get signed and whisked off to Hollywood. Unfortunately for me, the Hollywood agents weren’t exactly dying to sign me. So at the end of the day, we settled with the alternative: an agency in South Carolina.

            “You were just excellent!” Betsy Booker told my sister with an unusually long smile. My parents, Lydia, and I were standing at the Booker Agency table and they seemed to be interested in signing us.

            “What about me?” I asked, demanding some of the attention.

            “Oh, you were good, too,” Betsy said with obligation. She turned to my mom, “So it’s a two or none deal, huh?”

            “Yes, it is,” my mom said firmly. “We want them both with just one agent.”

            “Hmm,” Betsy sighed, giving me a look of uncertainty. “Let’s do it then.”

            Lydia squealed in delight and I kept my joy on the inside, for the sake of looking professional. We then signed a contract with the Booker Agency and gave Betsy a down payment for the first year. To this day, my mom still won’t tell me just how much we paid her, but I know it wasn’t cheap.

            That afternoon, my family celebrated our big win with a lunch at a Mexican restaurant. Even though my parents weren’t on board with the idea in the beginning, they’d completely let the showcase go to their head and, like Lydia and I, became convinced that we are on the fast track to success.

            “We’re going to get to go to red carpet parties and be in Disney movies,” Lydia said in excitement, completely convinced that this was even in the realm of possibility.

            “I know!” I foolishly agreed. “We’re going to remember today as the day our entire lives changed forever.”

            “And don’t forget, I’m going to be your manager, no matter how famous you are,” my dad said in all seriousness.

            “Of course you are!” Lydia replied. “You’re going to have to handle our money and acting jobs.”

            “Exactly,” I added.

            As stupid as all of this was, it was also kind of an endearing moment. The fantasy acting careers my sister and I thought we were about to have brought our family together again, in a strange way. It gave all of us something to believe in, even though it was never really going to happen. Oddly enough, it was just nice to believe in it for a while.

            The downside of it was that we spent the next four months being strung along by a talent agency that so obviously didn’t think we were all that talented. At least, they didn’t think I was talented. On one occasion, they did send Lydia to an audition for a television spot, but nothing came of it. For each of those four months, I still held onto the belief that something was about to come around. And, surprisingly, something did happen.

           

            It was finally summertime and, in the midst of the acting idea, I had another big idea. I decided to write and direct my own movie. So after writing a script for my short movie Junior High Spy, I convinced about ten of my friends to commit to it during the summer. The movie was about a girl in junior high, played by my friend Rachael, who had to juggle school by day and being an undercover special agent by night. Of course, I thought I was onto something genius and completely original

            So on one hot Friday afternoon, my friends and I met on location, which ended up being my house, to film a few scenes for the movie. Josh, who was just getting into photography at the time, was the movie’s co-director and cameraman. We were shooting a scene that involved Rachael saving the President’s daughter, played by Meredith, from a Russian henchman in the park.

            “How do I speak in Russian?” Scott asked me before we started filming.

            “Just say everything with a ‘z.’ That sounds Russian enough,” I shrugged. We hadn’t even started filming yet and I loved being a director, even if I was only directing my own friends. After months of dealing with agents and bending backwards to impress them, it felt great to be the one in control of the situation.

            “Okay, everyone, let’s quiet down. And … action!” I announced, as Josh started rolling the camera. Rachael and Meredith began their dialogue, when Scott’s Russian henchman character popped in and grabbed Meredith.

            “Hey, you’re trying to take the President’s daughter!” Rachael exclaimed, probably wondering why the dialogue was so ridiculously scripted. “I’m going to stop you!”

            Rachael and Scott went on to act out our choreographed fight scene, which ended with Rachael falling on a high kick in slow motion.

            “Cut!” Josh yelled, just as my phone went off. “Do you need to get it?”

            I checked and saw that it was my mom, “Yeah, I need a minute.”

            “Yonas,” Mom said into the phone, “Betsy Booker called. You have an audition!”

            “What?!” I exclaimed, loud enough for all of my friends to hear. “I got an audition?”

            “Yeah, it’s for a commercial. It’s this weekend in South Carolina.”

            I was bewildered as I hung up the phone. I had finally gotten my first real audition for a commercial. I couldn’t believe it. And, once again, I let it go straight to my head.

            “What was that about?” Meredith asked me.

            “I got an audition! I’m going to be in a commercial!” I exclaimed.

            “That’s awesome!” she replied.

            “Um, don’t you have to go to the audition before you get the commercial?” Josh corrected.

            “That’s not important, Josh,” I said. “When the casting director sees me, I’m going to get the part. I just know it.”

            “How can you be so sure?” Rachael asked me, brushing herself off from the big fall.

            “It’s just a feeling I have. There was a reason I had to wait so long for something to happen; because that something is huge and is going to be my big break,” I explained to her.

            “So what happens if this is your big break? How are you going to do acting and high school next year?” Rachael questioned. It didn’t hit me until then that it wouldn’t be easy to be a Hollywood star and keep my old life at the same time. But I knew that I was going to have to make some sacrifices.

            “Well, if it comes to it, I’ll just have to give up school,” I said with conviction. “You have to follow your dreams, no matter what.”

 

            The next weekend, my mom and I drove up to South Carolina for what I thought was the audition of a lifetime. We arrived at the casting studio and spoke with the secretaries, who informed us that the commercial was a dental campaign for kids. I immediately began fantasizing about seeing myself on television, flashing a toothy grin in a nationally broadcasted commercial.

            I was riding a wave of confidence until I entered the auditioning room, where I found about fifty other kids my age already practicing their monologues. I knew that the competition was tight, but decided that all I needed to do was get one long look from the casting director to be remembered. But, first, I decided to psyche out the other hopefuls.

            “Hey,” I said to two other actors in the room as I sat down. The two of them, a guy with curly brown hair and a tall blonde girl, were trying to memorize the script in the short time we had left.

            “You just getting here?” the guy asked me.

            “Yeah, I don’t really need to be early,” I said confidently.

            “You don’t?” the blonde girl asked.

            “Well, between you and me,” I said in a whisper, “I have connections with the production company. My uncle works here. I’m totally in.”

            “That’s bullshit. If you had connections, you wouldn’t be at this audition,” the guy said.

            “Woah, no need to get nasty,” I laughed. “You don’t have to believe me. I’m only here so that the casting process is ‘fair’ and all. But we all know I’m getting the part.”

            “So who’s your uncle then?” the girl inquired.

            “His name is Leroy Jones,” I completely fabricated. “He’s a business associate here.”

            “Wow,” she huffed, standing up to change seats. “Good for you then.”

           

            About thirty minutes after my arrival, the casting director, who introduced herself as Mrs. Banks, walked in and took a seat at the long table. Instead of a conventional audition, where we entered empty rooms to perform our pieces in, we were instead organized in a long line throughout the room, wrapped around Mrs. Banks at the table. We were to recite our monologue and walk away, making room for the next actor to step up to the table. This was a major problem for me, since it only gave me seconds to make a connection with Mrs. Banks.

            After listening to twenty kids recite the cheesy lines about toothpaste, I listened in irritation, completely convinced that I could do much better. I knew that my audition would be different; my audition would be special. And, before I knew it, it was my turn to step up to the ominous table.

            “Hello, Mrs. Banks. My name is Yonas,” I said cheerily, already breaking out of the instructed procedure. Despite my friendly greeting, Mrs. Banks didn’t bother looking up at me and continued writing her notes.

            “Start now,” she said unenthusiastically, still without looking at me. I was disheartened but still determined to turn things around. I recited my lines with an extra boost of charisma and animation. But, still, Mrs. Banks wouldn’t give me a glance.

            “Thank you,” she mumbled, scribbling down on her notepad.

            “Mrs. Banks,” I tried to get attention. “Hi, are you going to look at me?”

            Suddenly, she sat up and looked at me in utter shock, “What did you just say?”

            “I just wanted to know…,” I stuttered, wishing I could take back what I’d said. “I … I just wanted you to see me. Now you have.”

            “Yes. I have,” she said in disgust, looking back down at her notes. “Goodbye.”    

            My audition was definitely different, just not in the way that I’d expected. It was pretty clear that I was not getting the role, let alone any role from that casting director, but at least I could say I was memorable. In another way I didn’t expect, that audition was a turning point for me. It was in that moment that I’d finally realized I did not want to be an actor anymore. It was like a burst of knowledge suddenly hit me and I could suddenly see the error in my thinking I could even remotely act. Besides, I figured that with high school right around the corner, I’d have enough drama in the coming years. The last thing I needed was Hollywood.

Reviews

[Rainbow Rider]

This is pretty good so far, it has a nice story flow to it, with a good mixture of narrative and dialog. There are a few grammatical and spelling errors, but we all have those until we go back and edit a few times.

I did have a couple of problems with some of the text wording: The first is a technical use of the word Adolesence.

"As I prepared to finish the eighth grade, I reflected on all of my dramatic years of adolescence, as if it were so long ago, and realized how much of it felt like a television show."

I had to stop and re-read this a couple of times, and it still seems confusing for the reader. You have the character reflecting on his 'Years of Adolesence', but your character is at best, age 13-14, which is the very beginning of adolesence. I understand what you are trying to go after here, with the "As if it were so long ago." part, but still it causes the reader to stop and try to figure out how a person could reflect on years of something that has only started just recently in their lives. Maybe just change the word Adolesence to 'Childhood', it would flow through nicely and not take the reader away from the point you are trying to convey.

The second is this phrase:

"We felt as if we could relate to the school shootings, gonorrhea outbreaks, anorexia fads, teen pregnancies, and cocaine addictions "

Maybe I am to old {lol} or out of touch with the current school trends, but I found it hard to be believable that in the sixth and seventh grades, with kids ages 11-13 that these things were so prelavent in your day to day life at school, that the charaters could so easily relate and connect to these things. High school maybe, but in middle school?

The only other thing is a minor name thingy: You quote the Frankie Muniz character name Cody Banks, and then later have a character Mrs. Banks. This causes the reader to stop again and wonder if they were connected, and then realize that they aren't. Its a brief break for the reader, but if you simply change her name to something besides "Banks", you would eliminate the pause for the reader altogether.

Anyway, outside of those couple of distractions to the reading, this is a really good write. I could visulize young Yonas trying to convince the world that he was the next big star, only to realize that his friends were right. The story has great flow, excellent dialog and a nice story line, concluding with a great ending.

Speaking of endings, I think this is the most perfect ending for this part of your story. Great job!

"It was like a burst of knowledge suddenly hit me and I could suddenly see the error in my thinking I could even remotely act. Besides, I figured that with high school right around the corner, I'd have enough drama in the coming years. The last thing I needed was Hollywood."

One last piece of advice, it seems most people on this site will not take the time to read/review this long of a post, don't ask me why, their lazy I guess. But you would probaly get more reads/reviews if you posted this in two or three posts, titled as Chapter One, part 1, part 2, etc.

I look forward to reading more of the memoirs of young Yonas as he goes through life, let me know when you post up some more. Sincerely,,,,Mhk Melvin

[yonasmichael]

Melvin, thanks so much for taking the time for critiquing my chapter! I completely agree with what you're saying, especially with the use of the word "adolescence" and the "Banks" confusion there. I'll work on that!
As for the "school shootings, gonorrhea outbreaks, anorexia fads, teen pregnancies, and cocaine addictions" line, that was one of my attempts at sarcastic humor, but I'm not sure if it translated well onto the page. I'll definitely work on that.
I'm so glad you liked it and that you loved the ending and I'll definitely be posting more soon!