En-title-ment issues

In which our Diva probably should have done better than that pun

Oops, nine days since my last post. I'm basically over being sick, so I think I'll blame the Olympics. Who wants to blog when they can watch Evan Lysacek? (YAY LOCAL BOY YAY!)

In the midst of the sick, I had a very busy January, and one of the projects I shot during it was Ken Cohen's Tasting the End, which is slated to be released this spring. When I auditioned for my role as a home hospice nurse, the title on my sides was Smelling Anosmia. By the time we shot, that had been truncated to Anosmia, which was evocative but perhaps a bit literal? With the new title, Ken has hit on a memorable ring, and I can't wait to see the finished film. I've done several offbeat comedy projects lately; this one probably fits most properly in the "black comedy" category. I shot one day on it, and had a great time.

Movies commonly go through several title changes even after they're wrapped, for a variety of reasons. A little birdie told me last week that business wheels are turning behind the scenes, and there should be release news on Cyrus before too terribly long. Since a comedy by the same name got a fair amount of attention at Sundance, I'm guessing that news will come with a new title. I'm curious to see what it will be!

And then there's Raymond Did It, the first feature from horror writer/director (not to mention comics writer and RPG designer) Travis Legge, which I'll be shooting in Rockford this summer. One of my audition sides came with the draft title The Revenge of Ray-Ray still attached, but Travis had moved on to the punchier title by then. It's already getting attention in the horror blogosphere, and you can get in on the ground floor of support and news at its IndieGoGo page.

Looking forward to that one, as I get to play my own age for a change -- the mother of a teenager! Plus, how can I not love the first-ever design for a real movie poster with my name on it?

Nature has her say

Woke up about 4 am to what sounded like a semi-nearby explosion or crash. Turned to hubby, whom it had also awakened, said "WTF?" Briefly considered looking out the windows to see if someone had driven a car into a house or if there was smoke rising somewhere, then decided I didn't want to leave my nice warm bed and there'd be sirens if it were something like that anyway.

Which there weren't, because generally people don't call the police or fire department for earthquakes.

In all the places I've lived and visited, I've been present for exactly two earthquakes. Both were 4-point-something, within the last five years, in Illinois. Gotta love our crazy planet.

So, we have earthquake instead of Snowmageddon 2. We shoveled about 6 inches last night to keep it from getting out of hand, which of course means there's barely another inch this morning. Mind you if we hadn't done that, Murphy's Law dictates there'd be another foot or something, so I'll deal with my sore back and the fact that we're not shoveling it today in the sunshine.

Meanwhile, I'm still steadily getting better from The Ick, and have a couple new projects in the pipeline that I need to post about. Soon, I promise!

Just breathe

Quickie post, as I need to get to bed. I'm still trying to get 9-10 hours sleep (or at least being in bed; I tend to lie awake a lot on this particular antibiotic) until the rest of the ick clears out of my chest.

And there is plenty of ick -- I made it through Monday and Tuesday by the great good fortune of their both being short shooting days for me, and kept getting worse until I landed at the doctor's office Thursday morning with a verdict of bronchitis, laryngitis, and sinus infection. Yay me?

Five days and lots of pills later, I'm about a thousand percent better but still barely talking almost normally and feeling pressure with every breath. Scary. Especially with an opera concert this Saturday night (thankfully, I'm only singing in one relatively easy ensemble number) and a long shooting day tomorrow, playing a home hospice care nurse in a quirky little film called Anosmia.

My relationship with my instrument -- my body -- begins with two things: My spine and my breath. Most of the techniques in my actor toolbox that get used the most have breathing at their core. Heck, when I was a kid, I had a recurring nightmare about drowning. So it's always scary when I can't breathe as freely as I'm accustomed to, especially when it lasts for any amount of time.

I marked through rehearsal tonight and managed to hit all the pitches, so I should be able to pull off Saturday night more or less sounding like I should, even if it feels all wrong. But I'll be much happier when it feels right again.