You know what they say about women with short hair?

"Our woman is aged 35 - 40, she is attractive but interesting looking with a nice smile." This is the latest casting breakdown I received from my agent this morning. It's for a TV commercial for an insurance company. This is all fantastic feel-good news: my agent thinks they (I know it should say he or she but there's two of them) can sell me as attractive, and it's for TV insurance advertising which means good money if I can get it!

I called my agent back to confirm I'd be attending the audition. I appreciate that they give me the illusion that I have a choice, that there are so many acting jobs out there that I might actually be minded to say, you know what, I'm not sure about this one, I think I'll pass on it...

"Oh hello, do you still have your really short hair?" "(Pause) Yes." What I really wanted to say was "Well no actually, I thought just for a lark I'd grow it down to my buttocks in dreads and not tell anybody!" But the thing is, my agent, they're kind of busy, so I kept it to myself and thought I'll put it in my blog instead - where at least irony stands a chance of being appreciated.

"Oh good! I just thought I should check because you see the casting director asked specifically about your short hair... she says with short hair it'll be easier to put a bald cap on it."  Maybe, 5 years ago, when I embarked on this acting journey, I would have blanched or inhaled deeply, or even cried. But 5 years on? "Well, I don't care what they want me to do as long as they pay me good money." "Oh good girl." (It sounds patronising but I was talking to Belinda who is like the world's Mother and totally unflappable and coming from her it's not patronising. So please don't feel offended on my behalf.)

Here's the thing that you have to come to terms with as a jobbing actor (as opposed to a high profile actor who is specifically requested for roles, as a way of "selling" the project to producers), actually it's a list of things, and if you can't get your head around it, then you should go and do a normal respectable job that isn't over subscribed. Like accounting.

1. Everyone in the business hates actors (especially if they are ex-actors themselves.)
2. Art can on occasion get you noticed and open some doors, but not always.
3. Art as a rule will cost YOU money and not earn you ANY.
4. There is nothing wrong with earning a little bit of money to pay bills and you know, do stuff, like eat.
5. There would be no day time TV for duvet days if everyone refused to do commercials.
6. Attending auditions is good practice (for the big one)
7. Any sort of acting is good practice (for the role of a lifetime)
8. Going to auditions keeps your agent happy (even if you don't get the job)
9. Many of today's big stars started off doing commercials
10. Many of today's top directors started off shooting commercials.

So I am going to attend that audition looking attractive but interesting (as opposed to?) and deliver whatever they want from me with gusto and enthusiasm. Because this is the path I have chosen. And even if I have to remind myself sometimes, the fact is that I really do love it, even after 5 years, even if I'm not a household name YET. (Notice the pig headed blind optimism? If you don't got it don't even try it...)

Stay tuned...

Me and the Vampire, we're like one degree of separation...

For whatever reason, I've only recently become aware of HBO hit series True Blood, set in the deepest of the Deep South, and following the adventures of Sookie, a telepathic waitress played by Anna Paquin (Remember the little girl who won an Oscar for Jane Campion's The Piano? Well, her.) and her rather dishy lover Bill Compton, who happens to be a vampire. (Yes really. With retractable fangs and everything.)

Bill is played by British actor Stephen Moyer. Stephen studied at LAMDA and one of his tutors there was Brian Astbury... who also happened to be one of my tutors at East15. And there's our one degree of separation!

I often fantasise about appearing on a US hit TV series. In the meantime, I get to go to auditions like the one I had yesterday, for a corporate video. (For those of you who are not in the Industry, a corporate video requires the same amount of filming as a commercial but because it is not broadcast, the actors only get paid the shooting fee, which is a lot less - at most 20% - than the usage rights for broadcast....)

But I'm a trouper. If your agent sends you to a casting, you go, whatever the part, whatever the gig. Because every casting is an opportunity to get on people's radar. So off I went to the casting studio, braving the cold and the rain and arrived to find a waiting room drowning in actors and mountains of bags and coats. It looked like those pictures of the Eurostar terminal last Christmas. It smelt of wet clothes and wet leather. And that indefinable film that always hangs in the air whenever actors gather in numbers: I call it the smell of desperation.

I wasn't desperate, just a bit miffed that the 3 other castings taking place there were for 2 feature films and a commercial for Microsoft. Why not me!!! The answer was staring me in the face. More precisely, I was doing the staring.

There was a posse of young girls wearing more make-up than Jordan (they always do!) chatting away excitedly about their recent and current film roles. It turned out that they were all ex-classmates and going up for the same title role in this big feature. (No corporate videos for them then...)

There was a rather bloated and ragged looking older woman who occasionally sniffed the contents of a small glass capsule (probably lavender essence or something to clear the sinuses). She kept blowing her nose and sighing. In between the sniffing and the blowing and the sighing, she was going over her script. (No corporate video for her either...)

There were 20-30something women with long hair and lanky men who were called in to audition in pairs for a big American brand. You could smell the money.

And then there was me and one other rather snooty girl who from the moment she strutted in looked down her nose at everybody. I know enough now to read it as nervousness and insecurity. As it turns out, she was called in right before me.

Even though I am not a teenager, or an old hag, or sport long hair, part of me was still silently screaming "Why not me?" "Pick me!"

Anyway, it was a nice audition. Nice people. We had a laugh. We had a chat. I hope I get it. It's always the way, no matter what the job is, once you've auditioned for it, you feel like the part is well... part of you, that it's yours, like a birth right.

Of course, the right approach it to take each audition as it comes, and then forget all about it. But I'm too sentimental, I get attached.

So bite me ... I hope I get it.