A few years after I got sober, I had a crazy thought. Why not go back into acting? I mean, wouldn’t that be fun? Let’s have some fun, Sev! Hey, remember good old rule 62, don’t take yourself too damn seriously?
Who knows, maybe I’ll even land a TV show, like The Sopranos. No, forget that one, it’s been off the air since 2007. Maybe I can get a part on The Walking Dead and I can join the list of other celebrities in recovery like Edie Falco and Katey Sagal. I can be of service by being a source of inspiration!
As an actor, I took myself quite seriously, to the point where I got nowhere. I became a professional acting student, from the Method to the Meisner technique. Because I was prone to self-destruction, I dropped out of NYU a semester before I was supposed to graduate. I did have a play produced off-off Broadway, landed an acting agent, auditioned and then hit a horrible depression. At the age of 29, I flew to Los Angeles, determined to become famous, as a screenwriter or as an actor. Hollywood never beckoned me, I just showed up.
There I was in the early 1990’s, cruising up and down Sunset Boulevard in an unreliable Chevette. I had one hand on the steering wheel and the other flipping through a Thomas Guide. With a name like Sevasti E. Zographos, I would have been better off trying to direct some foreign film with subtitles. My Life as a Greek Goat (Baaa), a film directed by Sevasti E. Zographos. Not coming to a theater near you, any time soon.
So what was I doing driving up and down Sunset Boulevard with my headshots and resumes? Why, trying to find an acting agent, of course! That didn’t happen. I shopped at the Ralph’s on Sunset Boulevard thinking that someone might just discover me at the liquor section, just like some hotshot film director supposedly discovered Lana Turner at Schwab’s Pharmacy. The truth was Lana Turner, known back then as Judy Turner, was discovered at the Top Hat Café, located at 6750 Sunset Boulevard. And she was gorgeous and only 16 years old! I was almost 30 years old when I got to LA. At least Turner had luck on Sunset Boulevard. My stupid Chevette broke down on Hollywood and Vine!
Sadly, my acting career never took off. I did get my SAG card, thanks to a small part in Deadly Past which was written by my ex-husband, but that was about it. But after a few years of sobriety and not acting in almost two decades, I thought hey, why not? But what kind of characters could I play at this age? How about the role of Martha in Edward Albee’s Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? Not only she is an alcoholic, which is challenging for a Method actress, but also she is a fascinating character! So I learned one of Martha’s monologues from the play, just in case I needed one for auditions.
Another dilemma that I faced was that SAG had terminated my membership, because I had not paid my dues in years. What about non-union roles? I could rack up some film credits, and then get an agent. That would save me from knocking on doors like a Jehovah’s Witness. I joined Actors Access, and submitted my photos and resumes. Thanks to a subscription on Showfax, I could submit for hundred of roles and all for free! There I was, submitting horrible self-portraits to different low-budget films, TV shows and even (gasp) reality shows. I submitted for characters between the ages of 40 and 60. My photo was awful. I had a very peculiar look on my face—similar to the expression of a Diane Arbus’ subject, specifically, Child with Toy Hand Grenade in Central Park, N.Y.C.
But, I got auditions. Yippee! My first tryout was for a Greek widow in her sixties. No need for my artsy Martha monologue, all I had to do was download the sides online. I dressed like I was going to a funeral, in a long sleeved dress and I drove down to Hollywood. I parked on some side street near Crescent Heights and wobbled across Melrose Avenue in black high heels. I pushed the button, waited until the signal changed, then started to cross the street. Suddenly, a brand new Lexus screeched into the crosswalk and hit me!
I walked away unscathed. Later, safe in the waiting room, I had a thought. If that driver had been going just a little bit faster, I could have been killed. Maybe this a sign from God that I should not pursue acting, kind of like Moses with the burning bush. Instead of prepping for the part, I contemplated Exodus. An Asian kid sitting near me nervously smiled.
“Can I ask you something?” he said.
“Sure,” I replied.
“Do I look Greek?”
“Of course you do,” I lied.
Silence.
“Can I ask you a question?” I asked. “Do I look like I can play a character in my 60s? Be honest.”
“Actually you do,” he said.
If I were God, I would have turned him to salt.
A few minutes later, I was sitting in the casting room. “Please slate for the camera,” the casting director said. Instead of slating, I start speaking.
“You won’t believe what happened to me. A car just hit me on my way over here, as I was crossing the street.”
The casting director said, “Oh, my God!”
“No, no, its all good, I think God was watching over me. It’s a sign!” I said, and I started laughing.
I didn’t get the part.
About a week, later, I land another audition for a film called I Spit On Your Grave: Deja Vu. I pored over the character description. “Beady Eyes: 50 – 70 years old. A woman with beady eyes and a hooknose who has a creepy hyena like laugh. Paddling the streets with her bicycle and all the while ringing her bell, she’s indeed very creepy…and dangerous.”
According to the audition instructions, I had to videotape myself, meaning no help from friends, and then attach the video to an email. I used my iPhone and encountered technical issues (of course) because my phone’s email would not accept a video that was longer than 48 seconds, and the damn audition was two minutes. I finally ended up successfully taping myself, looking and sounding like the Wicked Witch of the West.
My lines were awesome, something like: “Hee, hee, hee. I’ll get you my little pretty. Hee hee hee!” followed by, “Die, child, die! Ha, ha, ha. Hee hee hee. Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil…” I completed the audition, emailed it and immediately got a response from the casting director telling me that I had done great work. I never heard from them again, and last I checked, the role of Beady Eyes went to a woman who was born in 1932. After that experience, I had a thought.
Why don’t I just focus on my writing, getting my novel done and some short stories published? That is another one of my dreams. And writing actually makes me happy! As Martha in Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? said, “And yes, I do wish to be happy.” I haven’t seen any burning bushes outside my window, yet, so I am taking that as a sign to keep writing.
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