Here at Mollygood, we're in the business of people at the top of their industry (occasionally we're in the business of people at the middle of their industry and we suppose, oftentimes, people at the very bottom of their industry, but that's not important right now). Our eyes so often on the pinnacle of "the biz," it becomes easy to forget that for every successful actor pissing away his glory days in cookie-cutter discotheques with sycophants who hate him but hate themselves more, there's dozens of fresh, talented actors outside the club chomping at the bit to be preyed upon by yes men. So we've tapped our good friend, "The Actor," to report anonymously from the front lines of the quest to get big, thereby reminding us all that celebrity is easy, acting is hard.

There are a few spots around town – several in midtown on the far West Side – and at various universities throughout the city, where the normal auditions I go to are held. I'll sit in a waiting area until someone comes out and gets me, at which point I go inside and see two or three people that are all my little brother's age sitting behind a plastic table with a bunch of papers on it and a stack of headshots. Then I do my thing. They say thanks and I say thanks and that's that.

Generally, "my thing" is preparing sides, which means memorizing short pieces of text from the script for the project itself. This can suck because my reader (the non-actor in the audition with whom I read) can skip lines or get lost, and if I'm really lucky the lost reader will then be convinced it's my line and I'll know it's theirs. Then we'll have this great moment where we're both staring at each other, waiting for someone to talk, both thinking, "This asshole…" and it's by far the most honest thing in whole audition.

Sometimes I'm asked to perform a monologue. For those, I'm talking to someone about something life or death except that person isn't there and I'm staring at a mark on the wall I picked and pretending this imaginary person is reacting to what I'm saying. And then I'm reacting to said nonexistent person's reactions. Glamorous, right?