I left drama school feeling quite smug. My graduating year had been somewhat of a personal triumph. In fact, my ego was so inflated that my only concern was fitting my head through the door, writes Karla Crome.
June – some fantastic roles with great feedback, a first class Honours Degree (if you please) and a great agent (naturally). Somehow, I managed to wangle these details into every conversation. I'm sure even the milkman could give you an itemised account of my career to date.
However, as many graduates will tell you, leaving drama school quickly evokes some seriously quick withdrawal symptoms. Bye structure. Bye loan. Hello big bad world.
Penniless, my cock of the walk strut descended into a duckish waddle back to my old room in Hertfordshire. ‘Kicking it' with my slightly less hip flat mates (mum, dad and an increasingly mentally challenged cat) was going to take some getting used to. Rent cropped up and I begrudgingly increased my hours at my part time job.
A few unfruitful auditions later I was beginning to feel a bit flat. Just a few weeks beforehand I had been speeding along at 90 mph and I had relished the thought of a lazy, chilled summer. What actually ensued was sitting on my bed for a good month twiddling my fingers and wondering why the RSC hadn't called yet. Time for a pep call from the agent.
I had only been out four weeks and it was already getting to me – how could I keep this up for a lifetime?
‘You're not working, you should be working twice as hard!'
Every minute of an empty day, he ‘reminded' me, should be utilised for furthering my career. Writing to casting directors, reading and seeing plays, reading all relevant publications and keeping in vocal and physical shape.
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