Mortimer and Sheedy’ with the office address and phone number and she hands them out like Maundy money to anyone who so much as looks in her direction. I’m a little disappointed that her cards don’t simply say ‘I’m AN AGENT!!’ although I guess written down it wouldn’t have quite the same impact as it does when she says it out loud.
Her new clients – Mary the actress (actually her name is Mhari but Lorna has persuaded her to change it, telling her that no one will be able to pronounce it and therefore will never ask her to audition for anything for fear of making themselves look foolish. Mhari, being new to the profession and filled with gratitude for having been given the chance to be represented by the great Ms Whittaker herself, readily agreed and consigned her cultural heritage to the dustbin without a second thought) and Craig the writer – seem sweet and naive enough to believe they have made an astute career move by signing their lives – and fifteen per cent of their future earnings – over to her. To be fair, though, Mortimer and Sheedy, despite being small, does have a good name and if it’s known for anything then it’s known for bringing on new talent. Melanie and Joshua are well respected. The name will look good on their CVs.
I read Craig’s short film script when Lorna is out at lunch one day and it’s really not bad. Plus Lorna, it has to be acknowledged, is like a dog with a bone on the line to one of the script editors at Reddington Road , trying to persuade them that Craig is just the kind of fresh young talent they need to nurture through their new-writers scheme. It pays off. They commission him to write a dummy episode – shadowing a real storyline – for no money, but with all the care and attention given to it as if it was the real thing. If he does well, they might give him a real script to write, one that will actually go on air, that he will be paid real money for – no promises. I have to grudgingly admit that Lorna’s pulled it off on this occasion. It’s the kind of break every inexperienced writer dreams about. I suspect that Alex, though he pretends to turn up his nose at soaps, indeed at TV in general – heaven forbid you actually get paid good money for writing something that will reach five million people – would kill to be given the chance.
Mary is a harder prospect. There is nothing tangible to show a casting director. She has never done anything on tape. Still Lorna pulls favours and gets her an audition for a one-line part in a new fringe play . Nothing comes of it except that Marilyn Carson, the casting director, sends back word that Mary reads well and that she’d certainly see her again for something or other in the future. Meanwhile Lorna advises her to take any old job she can find in any tiny above-a-pub theatre so that people can come and watch her in action. I find myself thinking that’s exactly the advice I would have given her, which is rather disconcerting. Maybe Lorna has found her calling after all. Although what do I know about the way to get a young actress noticed?
Meanwhile, I am struggling to keep up, doing both my own job and the one Lorna so recently abdicated. She can see I’m overworked. We’re still sharing the reception space while she waits for her new office to be painted (baby blue), so there’s no way for her to miss the fact that I have too much to do. Still she sticks to her guns. If I am on a call and one of the other lines rings, she will sit there ignoring it, staring at me as if to say, ‘Well, go on, answer it; that’s your job.’ We desperately need to bring in someone to replace the old Lorna, but no one seems to be mentioning it. I resolve to have a word with Melanie as soon as I get a moment. Of course, I am terrified they’ll bring in someone even worse, although that’s hard to imagine, but I’m going through my usual ‘maybe it’s better to stick with the devil I know’ routine even though the devil
Her new clients – Mary the actress (actually her name is Mhari but Lorna has persuaded her to change it, telling her that no one will be able to pronounce it and therefore will never ask her to audition for anything for fear of making themselves look foolish. Mhari, being new to the profession and filled with gratitude for having been given the chance to be represented by the great Ms Whittaker herself, readily agreed and consigned her cultural heritage to the dustbin without a second thought) and Craig the writer – seem sweet and naive enough to believe they have made an astute career move by signing their lives – and fifteen per cent of their future earnings – over to her. To be fair, though, Mortimer and Sheedy, despite being small, does have a good name and if it’s known for anything then it’s known for bringing on new talent. Melanie and Joshua are well respected. The name will look good on their CVs.
I read Craig’s short film script when Lorna is out at lunch one day and it’s really not bad. Plus Lorna, it has to be acknowledged, is like a dog with a bone on the line to one of the script editors at Reddington Road , trying to persuade them that Craig is just the kind of fresh young talent they need to nurture through their new-writers scheme. It pays off. They commission him to write a dummy episode – shadowing a real storyline – for no money, but with all the care and attention given to it as if it was the real thing. If he does well, they might give him a real script to write, one that will actually go on air, that he will be paid real money for – no promises. I have to grudgingly admit that Lorna’s pulled it off on this occasion. It’s the kind of break every inexperienced writer dreams about. I suspect that Alex, though he pretends to turn up his nose at soaps, indeed at TV in general – heaven forbid you actually get paid good money for writing something that will reach five million people – would kill to be given the chance.
Mary is a harder prospect. There is nothing tangible to show a casting director. She has never done anything on tape. Still Lorna pulls favours and gets her an audition for a one-line part in a new fringe play . Nothing comes of it except that Marilyn Carson, the casting director, sends back word that Mary reads well and that she’d certainly see her again for something or other in the future. Meanwhile Lorna advises her to take any old job she can find in any tiny above-a-pub theatre so that people can come and watch her in action. I find myself thinking that’s exactly the advice I would have given her, which is rather disconcerting. Maybe Lorna has found her calling after all. Although what do I know about the way to get a young actress noticed?
Meanwhile, I am struggling to keep up, doing both my own job and the one Lorna so recently abdicated. She can see I’m overworked. We’re still sharing the reception space while she waits for her new office to be painted (baby blue), so there’s no way for her to miss the fact that I have too much to do. Still she sticks to her guns. If I am on a call and one of the other lines rings, she will sit there ignoring it, staring at me as if to say, ‘Well, go on, answer it; that’s your job.’ We desperately need to bring in someone to replace the old Lorna, but no one seems to be mentioning it. I resolve to have a word with Melanie as soon as I get a moment. Of course, I am terrified they’ll bring in someone even worse, although that’s hard to imagine, but I’m going through my usual ‘maybe it’s better to stick with the devil I know’ routine even though the devil
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