Art Ache
Page 25
But now I need to put some time and effort into keeping my portfolio career alive. My voice-over clients have been very understanding and supportive, thank goodness. I unknowingly timed my life-threatening bout of chicken pox with a very quiet time in the world of voice-overs, although I do have a huge session today.
And the theatre company was very understanding. They used one of the girls from the previous production so their costs and inconvenience were minimised. They even phoned me to request my opinion about a company issue. They were recruiting for a replacement for Pirate Pete and one of the board members phoned, seeking my thoughts on the best person for the job. They figure I’m a well-connected industry member and it’s very valuable to have a creative artist’s perspective.
I endorsed a guy from interstate who really was the only one who had the national profile they were looking for. The company’s criteria were quite specific and according to those criteria the local candidates didn’t fit the bill. Very unfortunate, because there were some excellent local candidates, and employing a local would be my preference. I discussed all this with the board representative. I felt sorry for him, because he was in a real bind. In order to appease funding bodies and various other stakeholders, they needed to adhere to the national profile requirement, even though there was a strong belief amongst board members that a local appointment would be better. I listened intently to the pros and cons and then gave a frank and honest response. Local artists wouldn’t like the appointment, but if the criteria were immovable and they couldn’t go with a local, which I felt they should, then it seemed the interstate guy was the best choice. The only choice, really. He had a proven track record in terms of management, a genuine national and even international profile and considerable experience as a director. In the end, the company appointed him. Octavian. I’m worried what his name might encapsulate. Oh well, it’s just a name. As if I can point the finger.
Regardless of his name, right now, I need to touch base with him. I want to request a slight extension on the commission and to discuss my role as associate artist with the company.
I can meet the commission deadline and submit a first draft within the timeframe suggested, but it will be a shit first draft. It’s much better to address it head on and request an extension so I can deliver a better product. I’m sure he’ll be cool with that. Theatre companies do that all the time.
While Patrick cooks dinner and Jack draws a picture at the table, I send an email to Octavian. I affirm how thrilled I am that he has the position. I want to say that when approached by board members for my opinion regarding the best person for the job, he was my pick, but that would be blatant sucking up. Instead, I reiterate how thrilled I am to be continuing my relationship with the company under his artistic directorship.
His reply is immediate, curt and it floors me. He cuts straight to the chase. He cuts straight through my heart.
Dear Persephone,
I sent correspondence to your agent a number of weeks ago to advise them that I have reassessed the status of your commission. I officially informed them that the company no longer has you under active commission as a playwright. You are free to approach other companies with the commissioned idea, but we advise you will need to approach them as an individual artist and no longer as an associate artist of the company.
Pardon?
I read it again.
Have I just been sacked? Am I no longer an associate artist? No longer under commission? I endorsed the pretentious dickhead and now he’s sacked me!
The email throws me for six. Well, more than six, but I don’t recall cricket commentators ever mentioning an eight or anything higher in their commentary. I had merely been touching base regarding the commission and this is what I get in response.
Why didn’t my agent tell me this? I’m angry. I’m furious. But why is it I can feel a trip to the planet of self-loathing coming on? All those feelings that Marjory helped me through have now gatecrashed my present moment. No good standing at the fence telling them to bugger off. They’re here, they’ve got their Bacardi Breezers and they’re looking for trouble. I need to stand up to those overwhelming feelings of self-loathing but first, I need to stand up to my agent.
ME
I don’t believe this.
Patrick enters from the kitchen.
PATRICK
What?
I’m already on the phone to my agent so can’t fill him in.
My agent answers promptly. I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take it anymore.
ME
Why didn’t you tell me my commission had been cancelled?
Patrick hovers and listens in.
WITCHYPOO
Who is this?
ME
Persephone. Why didn’t you tell me my commission had been cancelled? That I’m not an associate artist anymore?
WITCHYPOO
You’ve been very busy with life issues, illness, divorce, babies, you name it. I didn’t think you’d want to be bothered.
ME
Bothered? You didn’t think I’d want to be bothered? This is my career!
My anger is automatically connecting me to my assertiveness. The boundaries are well and truly being drawn. I think Marjory would call this “honouring myself.” Patrick gives me the thumbs up.
WITCHYPOO
You’ve been busy.
ME
I’ve been ill. That’s not a crime. It happens to many people. You’re supposed to be representing my career. Representing me. Representing my work. Not belittling, minimising and undermining me, or keeping me in the dark.
WITCHYPOO
Persephone. You can’t have births, divorces, illnesses . . . and expect people to take you seriously.
ME
Yes, you can. What goes on in my personal life is irrelevant. Your job is to represent my professional life. If my personal life impacts my professional life, your job is to manage it. It is not your job to judge my personal life, determine it has come up wanting and then choose not to tell me significant information about my career. I am very disappointed in this level of representation. You’re supposed to be my champion.
WITCHYPOO
When you’ve calmed down, call back and we can talk it through. It was a very weak idea anyway, the one you were writing. No wonder they didn’t pick it up.
I hang up.
PATRICK
Well done.
I have had enough. Enough of the new artistic director, Octavian, even though I haven’t even met him yet; enough of not knowing where my next creative project is going to come from; enough of being treated like crap and not being taken seriously by my agent; enough of being sacked as an associate artist, without so much as a meeting.
I will now have a clause in my life contract that I will not allow myself to be treated like crap by boyfriends, ex-husbands, new artistic directors of theatre companies, theatre itself, and definitely not by agents.
ME
I need to break up with my agent. I need a new one. A decent one. One who’s my champion. My support. My genuine representative. I need a new agent to just ring me up out of the blue and say they’d love to represent me because I’m amazing. I need . . .
My mobile is ringing. Patrick picks it up and hands it to me.
PATRICK
Sydney number.
My reverie is broken. Patrick hands me my mobile.
ME
Hello, Persephone speaking.
WOMAN
Hi. It’s Susan here. I’m a voice-over and acting agent from interstate. I’m currently extending my business to include other states. I’ve heard great things about you. I’d like to represent you.
Is this Candid Camera?
ME
Are you k
idding me?
She sounds taken aback.
WOMAN
Of course not. We’re only taking on a handful of new people and you’re our number one choice for your age bracket. Would you be interested?
ME
Absolutely. I’m currently represented, but . . .
WOMAN
I know. Think about it, check out my website and get back to me. We can talk further. I’d like to work with you.
Is the universe messing with my mind? Did this woman really just ring me and offer to represent me?
ME
An agent just . . .
PATRICK
I heard. That’s fantastic. Flick that other idiot.
ME
But I don’t want to upset/
PATRICK
/are you kidding? You should have given her the arse years ago.
ME
I just need to talk it through with her.
So I ring again, but this time I can’t get through.
RECEPTIONIST
She’s in Sydney.
ME
I just spoke with her.
RECEPTIONIST
She’s not taking calls.
ME
I’ll call her mobile then.
RECEPTIONIST
She’s not taking calls.
ME
It’s very important.
RECEPTIONIST
Send her an email and she’ll get back to you at the end of the week.
ME
I need to talk to her now. Can you get her to ring me?
RECEPTIONIST
I told you, she’s in Sydney.
ME
There’s mobile reception in Sydney. I just spoke with her.
RECEPTIONIST
Send an email.
Clunk. Beep, beep, beep in my ear.
PATRICK
I think you’ve got your answer.
ME
I think you might be right.
We sit together and check out Susan’s website. I’m looking at a new agent’s website while Patrick sits beside me offering support and encouragement. I could get used to this.
Jack finishes his drawing and crawls onto my lap. I smell his hair as I look at the website.
JACK
What are you looking at?
ME
A website for work.
JACK
Nice colours. I love blue. But I like rainbow colours best.
PATRICK
Me too, mate.
The website looks good. She’s professional and organised and even though I’ve never heard of her, she’s been working in the industry for over thirty years and is extremely well-connected.
ME
I’m doing it. I’m going to jump into the wild blue yonder with a new agent.
PATRICK
Mad if you don’t. If you need to go interstate for work, I’ll bring the kids.
I automatically pat my belly.
ME
You’d do that?
PATRICK
Of course I would. You’d do it for me, so why wouldn’t I do it for you? Ring her back.
I do. She answers her phone promptly and professionally. Already, she’s miles ahead.
ME
Hi Susan, it’s Persephone here. I’ve checked out your website and I’m very interested.
SUSAN
Fantastic.
ME
I’d like to meet to go over the finer details, but in essence yes, I think it would be great.
SUSAN
That’s excellent. I’d be thrilled to have someone of your calibre. Let’s meet up next week and take it from there. I’ll text you an appointment time.
ME
That’s great. I look forward to it.
SUSAN
Me too.
I can’t believe how excited I feel. How free and fresh and . . .
My mobile is ringing. It’s my agent. My old one. Turns out they do have mobile reception in Sydney and she does want to speak with me. I take a deep breath.
ME
Hi.
WITCHYPOO
So you think the cancelled commission is my fault?
ME
No. I think you should have told me about the cancelled commission when it was cancelled.
WITCHYPOO
Call reception, make a meeting, and we’ll talk about it when I get back. I’m in Sydney. Not that I’m getting any work done, another bloody agent is poaching my best people.
ME
I know. She’s poached me.
WITCHYPOO
You? You’re not one of my best people.
And this is the confirmation I need.
ME
She thinks I am.
WITCHYPOO
I meant Peter and Sarah.
ME
And me. She’s asked me to join her agency.
WITCHYPOO
You?
ME
I guess she thinks I have something to offer.
WITCHYPOO
She’s ringing everyone. She’s desperate, darling.
ME
I don’t believe that. I’ve checked out her website. She represents some great people.
WITCHYPOO
So do I.
ME
Do you?
WITCHYPOO
Absolutely. Peter. Leanne. Lauren. Sarah.
ME
And me. Why aren’t I included in the list?
WITCHYPOO
They’re the top, you’re . . .
ME
See, that’s the problem. You’re supposed to be representing me professionally, yet you don’t even hold me or my work in high regard. You criticise me, intimidate me, and then forget to tell me my commission has been cancelled. I’m sorry, but I’ve decided to go with the new agent.
WITCHYPOO
You’re making a huge mistake.
ME
Maybe. But she’s nice and she’s friendly and she thinks my work is great.
WITCHYPOO
Listen to yourself. ‘She’s nice.’ You’re making a decision based on the fact that someone is nice to you?
ME
No. I’m making a decision based on the fact that someone values me. I’ll have my accountant contact you to organise any outstanding invoices owed to me.
WITCHYPOO
You can’t do that.
ME
Seems I can and I have. Goodbye.
Deep breath as I hang up. Patrick squeezes my arm and kisses my cheek. Jack gives me a high-five.
JACK
Good work, Mummy!
And I have to agree.
Chapter 30
The following day. Morning. Doctor’s appointment.
“What it lies in our power to do, it lies in our power not to do.” Aristotle.
The following day, on a high of positive energy and action, I check out my to-do list. I need to drop Jack to childcare, do a huge voice-over session, then a routine doctor’s appointment, after which I’ll collect Jack and meet Patrick at my parents’ house for dinner.
They love him. Patrick, that is. And Patrick loves them. He hasn’t really had much of a family life and seems to love my suburban Ma and Pa Kettle parents. They’ve all embraced each other like a warm, woolly jumper. It feels good. And we haven’t heard a peep from Patrick’s mum. I’m getting the feeling that she just blows in every now and then, stirs up a bit of trouble and leaves. Oh well, small doses works for me.
I kiss Patrick goodbye as he walks out the door to work, have one of my many loo stops, bundle Jack into the car, drop him off, drive across town to a recording studio and read a pile of scripts selling everything from holidays to land packages to nasal sprays. I feel good. I feel hopeful, like my career has a renewed energy. Like I’m finding another part of my SELF.
Then I stop off for a late lunch and quickly high tail it to the doctor’s surgery for the appointment. Surprisingly, the doctor’s running to schedule. I’ve gone with whomever’s available, as my lovely Indian doctor with the unpronounceable surname is on long service leave.
The physical examination complete, I join the doctor at his desk.
DOCTOR
All seems fine with the baby. Measurements are good. But you seem to have a case of recurrent thrush. I’ll have to send the specimen off, but it looks like that to me.
The doctor looks down his nose, through his half-glasses. He looks a kind man, but I feel uncomfortable talking about thrush with him. Then I feel even more uncomfortable when he suggests I might like to talk to my husband.
ME
What about?
DOCTOR
Well, we will need to test you for an underlying infection.
ME
Oh . . . I have recently had chicken pox.
DOCTOR
Yes, I know that. I mean a sexually transmitted infection.