It is half eight in the morning on the Saturday which has followed a week of teching in Kings Theatre, Southsea. A rare moment of quiet.

I am not going to be flippant or attempt to be cool by masking my absolute giddy childish delight at finally performing in a space like this. It’s incredible. The red velvet seats with the gold embellishments, the ornate carvings round the boxes, the way your voice pings back at you from the back of the Grand Circle, the rake of the stage, the busy warren of dressing rooms that lurk behind the picture frame of the Pros … even the smell of the place. This is a theatre. A theatre which for over a hundred years has been a temporary home to countless performers including Charlene Tilton, Dallas’ poison dwarf, if the Panto posters are anything to go by.

They say every cloud has a silver lining. It is also true that every shiny, glittery silver lining has a cloud lurking beneath it.

I’m taken back to a blog I wrote a few months ago when my bloke was on his last tour. I had a few short weeks until he was back again and was bemoaning this odd industry of ours where we pack our chaps off in an unnatural test of monogamy. And now my fella and I have received some fabulous news. Truly fabulous. I do mean that. I could not be more psyched or be prouder or happier or more delighted for our future selves. What’s that you say? You don’t believe me? My smile looks forced? That would be the tell-tale jaw clench drama school voice coaches tried to drill out of me. Ah, sod it. I’m not that good an actress. Though I’m delighted for our future selves my present self has become a swoony, sulky, ‘can’t live without you’ teenage type: My boy got a gig touring the States.

I have been accused of being a soppy cry baby by most of my clan. Things that have made me cry include: adverts featuring attractive children doing adorable things, any TV programme featuring a makeover on a lady with low self esteem and… The Fresh Prince of Bel Air: the one where Carlton was hospitalised and it was Will’s fault because the pills were in his locker and… and… oh… dear… sniffle sniffle sob sob.

So here’s the latest challenge faced by yours truly: a short film audition for which I am required to turn up and cry instantaneously. The crying is integral to the scene and opens the dialogue. It is essential. On the train up to the audition I suffer a crisis of faith and feel hideously inadequate: What if I can’t deliver? Oh dear.

Try now, I tell myself. Cry now. Cue constipation face. No. Nothing. Dry as a line of Coward. Noooooooooooo!! If I was a real actor I could do this, surely.

Tuesday 19 June, 9-11am.
Wednesday 20 June, 11am-1pm.
Friday 22 June, 1pm-3pm.

This is a public safety announcement to residents of North Buckinghamshire. During the times indicated above, please stay at home. Do not make any unnecessary journeys. Do not venture outside. You have been warned; I am learning to drive.

Readers, I got a job. A paid job. A paid acting job. For a year. Excited doesn’t quite cover it. As of August, I shall be touring theatres across the UK and Ireland with ‘Romeo and Juliet’ and ‘Spring Awakening’, thanks to Icarus Theatre Collective.

Everybody has always said I could play a teenager. Pop me in a school uniform and pack me off with my satchel; I’m a shorty with a baby face. I was refused alcohol at Wetherspoons only last Christmas; which I am blaming on the fact I’d forgotten my ID rather than any other reason * Hiccup *

So, having initially auditioned for Juliet and ended up being cast as The Nurse, I’ve had to have a long hard look in the mirror and adjust to the fact that my casting might not be quite as youthful as I thought. Not thirteen anyway. There are clues; the beginning of lines and the increasing amount of salt in my pepper pot which means I’m starting to pay more attention to Davina McColl’s endorsements of ‘grey coverage’. Alas, it appears my Juliet ship has sailed and the role will now be resigned to the list I shall entitle ‘the parts that got away’. Sigh…. Still; no frowns- that ages the face! Besides which, the Nurse is great fun! And I very much look forward to clutching at the nipple of my dug and being horribly inappropriate.

The cherry on the cake, besides enjoying some fantastic Shakespeare and playing to proper houses with dress circles and ice-cream vendors and whatnot: a modicum of financial security. It means I do not have to have ‘that’ conversation with my parents for the next year. Watch as my shoulders creep down by three inches and my neck reappears for the first time since graduation.

It’s the season of student showcases, writes Jo Eames, The Stage’s Head of Events. Performers in their final year at drama school, university or college are taking their talent into the marketplace, demonstrating the skills they’ve acquired over years of training that’s pushed them to their physical and emotional limits.

Make-or-break relationships with agents, casting directors and other industry professionals are being developed. It’s a critical time for anyone embarking on their career as a professional performer.

At The Stage Events, we understand the challenges that a graduate faces as they enter this highly competitive industry. Our next session, Graduate essentials: how to launch your career, has been developed to help graduates get their career off to a flying start.

Dearest readers, It’s been a while. It’s been nearly four years to be precise. Four fun filled and fruitful years have past since I last shared my ‘fresh out of drama school’ whoops and woes with you all.

When I look back at my old musing and scribbles, I smile at my ever-hopeful glee and cringe at my cringiness. When you’re new to the business and things aren’t going exactly to plan, it’s very easy to feel lost when you’re serving your thousandth customer of the day or sat in a call centre booth with your head in your hands.

I once played the bitter out-of work-actress very well. I played her in said restaurants, call centers, soul destroying promo jobs and even dole queues.

Four years later, I feel like the leading lady.

Readers I apologise; I have been AWOL, with less emphasis on the ‘leave’ and more emphasis on the ‘working my behind off’. My behind and several pounds that the gym couldn’t get rid of but the stress of assisting on a fringe show did in super quick time.

Now, I’m the kind of girl that finds sitting watching the telly stressful unless I can do three other things at the same time. If I’m told to sit still and do nothing but “chill out” — well, I want to gnaw my own arm off and use it to do some very productive things. For example use it to batter the person that just told me to “chill out”.

I love being busy and the times when I’ve bitten off more than I could chew have been few and far between (hey, I’m a former fat child!) Nevertheless my friends, I’ve come pretty close to overload these past few weeks and have been suffering with the work equivalent of meat sweats.

Hiraeth Artistic Productions’ skinhead-inspired production of Titus Andronicus is now up and running at The Etcetera Theatre, Camden. And if I do say so myself; its ruddy awesome. Produced and directed by my dear friend and creative visionary Zoe Ford, the show is a collision of NFskinheads and Immigrants in a vengeful turf war which brings Shakespeare’s bloodiest horror hurtling into the 1980s. As the body count piles up with each passing scene there’s dismemberments, beheadings, rapes, murders and tears and depending on your sensibilities; a few laughs.

Unlike the actors, who are still slogging their guts out on a daily basis, now the show is open my workload has eased considerably and I am no longer waking up in the middle of the night worrying where I’m going to find a wheelbarrow of bricks or a severed hand. In case you’re wondering; the brick problem was resolved by some of my most focussed flirting with the builders across the road and the severed hand… well, it’s odd what some people have lying around the house.

Guest blogger Penelope Rodie writes: When I left drama school I knew I would be poor (although I imagined it would be in a really cool, Bohemian way). I knew it would be a hard slog and that work would be sporadic. But what I hadn’t quite prepared for was just how busy things would get.

Now, before you think I’m using this blog as a thinly-veiled opportunity to boast about my successes, let me clarify that this busyness doesn’t always involve much acting. It’s the stuff around it that takes the time.

Within a few months of graduating, I had come to the conclusion that the process of finding work is a full time job in itself.

Add in classes and workshops to maintain and develop skills, as many theatre trips as time and money will allow, keeping on top of what’s going on in the industry and a day job to pay the bills and before you know it you’ve become the kind of annoying person who has to get out their diary just to arrange a quick coffee with a friend.

In the whirlwind of a week before I packed up my tour rucksack we held auditions for Hiraeth Artistic Productions’ upcoming Titus Andronicus, which I am beyond excited to be Assisting on.

To come at the production process from the other angle is definitely eye opening. And being on the other side of the casting table was incredibly useful for me as an actor. As soon as the first actor walked into the room, Richard Evans’ advice made absolute sense. They always tell you the casting director is on your side, not an enemy or a firing squad. It turns out this is true. We have a play to cast and each unfilled role is a problem that needs to be solved. The right actor is the solution to the problem.They want you to do well.

The initial interview at the beginning as we endeavoured to put candidates at ease allowed us to get to know a little bit about the person and just get to see whether or not we were able to interact with them well. This is something that I always fret about as an actor; I should have said this, or that, or the other. The subject matter was of little importance compared to the attitude and energy and listening skills. That being said, those who had read the play (!) fared MUCH better than those who hadn’t; they had something to talk about and have shown that they have prepared and taken the audition seriously.

It sounds basic, but those who chose nice big bold speeches left much more impact than those who chose indifferent pieces. Again, Ginny Schiller’s advice was ringing in my ears: don’t be afraid of the ‘big ones’. There is a reason why they’re considered ‘overdone’; because they’re very good. You won’t get the part because you managed to dig out the most obscure monologue in the First Folio, you will get the part based on your performance; so best make sure you’ve got something good to work with.

There was one auditionee who literally blew my mind with how amazing she was. Like, she was fantastic. Her monologue made hairs stand up on the back of my neck and brought tears to my eyes. Without a doubt,she was one of the best auditions of the weekend and a funny, genuine and clearly passionate woman to boot. It breaks my heart to say she wasn’t cast. There just wasn’t a part for her in this particular play, with this particular line up of actors.

This, though of little use to her right now, was rather heartening for me as an actor. On those occasions where you know you’ve given your all and you feel you really got on with the casting director and you tear your hair out with audition post mortems to try and understand why you didn’t get the part; sometimes it really is a case that you don’t fit with the rest of the puzzle this time.

Once again this missive comes to you from the back of a van.

This time, the van is on route to Berlin. We have had a whistle stop tour of France and are now on the German leg of Dreampark’s run of ‘Welcome to London’; a TIE English language piece in which I am doing some of the least subtle acting you will ever see. My cockney policeman is a kneebender, my TV presenter is a flurry of hair swishing vanity, and my hippy is decidedly (and quite suspiciously) spaced out. It is absolutely brilliant fun.

One of the chaps in the cast is a touring virgin and those of us that have seen our fair share of high school gymnasiums and been round the block a couple of times (not like that! Cheeky!) have had to let him know that this is not your typical tour. Quite frankly, we are being spoiled rotten. The workload is super light; we have three days off when we reach Berlin this evening. We haven’t had more than one show a day. We are staying in 4* hotels. With complimentary bathrobes. The sun has been shining for every single get in and get out. This is a company of happy actors.

Only as an actor would you spend your morning as a teddy bear and your evening as a whore. Last Friday I had not one, not two, but… not three, not four…. But five shows. Five.

I slept well that night.

My day began with a double bill of Around the World in 80 Days, playing Jean Passepartout in an infant school in Edmonton: I knew that French degree would pay off one day. a pit stop for lunch was followed by a cuddly sing-a-long playing Eddy in Teddy Does Sports Day. And before the school day was over, I was three shows down and motoring it down to Battersea to pour myself into my corset for Red Riding Hood at Nabokovs Arts Club. Phew. I am almost certain this is what Dame Judi was up to fifty years ago!

Now for the absolute highlight of my week. No, dare I say it, 2012. I dedicate this blog to The Nabokov Arts Club: Fable.

My boyfriend has been away on tour. It’s not a long tour. In fact he’ll be back for keeps next weekend. Until his next tour that is. I miss him a bit. Not too much mind. But a bit. I’m keeping busy.

This isn’t the first and it won’t be the last time a tour has come up for us, but I’ll confess — every time he auditions for a really long stint away the bad little girlfriend sitting on my shoulder secretly hopes he doesn’t get it. Naughty, unsupportive little shoulder girlfriend!

Acting is definitely a tricky profession in which to cultivate a nice healthy relationship (mine’s nice, if a little unhealthy, thanks for asking.) I remember having a blazing row with a chap at university who categorically stated, with cavalier disdain, that being a professional actor and having a long term relationship were irreconcilable. At the time, filled with romantic optimism, I threw his words back at him and flounced off convinced that he was a loveless cynic. Having been an actor now for what feels longer than the two and a half years it actually is… I still think he’s wrong (the loveless cynic!)

But his argument may have had a couple of valid points.

My name is Gemma Barrett. That’s Gemma like Bond girl Gemma Arterton and Barrett like the shoes, homes and sweeties. Apart from with an ‘e’ instead of an ‘a’. And this week I have been learning ‘how to nail my audition’ with affable casting director Richard Evans, courtesy of The Stage Events at their first ever expert-led master class session.

About 35 of us gathered at the Prince of Wales Theatre on Tuesday morning, with participants hailing from all the corners of the UK, for an interactive workshop and Q&A to find out how we could maximise our chances when we get in that audition room, and how to keep the casting director onside.

Well I don’t know about you, but I’m rather grateful HMRC were striking yesterday. And even happier they’ve given us two days leeway on this blasted tax return. God bless the angry call centre strikers and down with the privatisation!

For all the good technology is supposed to do us, it amazes me how much of a hassle these things can be. You trawl through the correspondence to find your online ID at the beginning of January, you can’t find it so it has to be posted to you and then you load up the whole thing again only to discover you don’t have your password and HMRC don’t have your email address so that’s going to have to be posted to you anyway… Urgh. Do I sound stressed? The old Elite fags are wearing out of batteries at an alarming rate so I can only assume I must be.