Skip to content
WIL WHEATON dot NET WIL WHEATON dot NET

50,000 Monkeys at 50,000 Typewriters Can't Be Wrong

  • About
  • Books
  • My Instagram Feed
  • Bluesky
  • Tumblr
  • Radio Free Burrito
  • It’s Storytime with Wil Wheaton
WIL WHEATON dot NET
WIL WHEATON dot NET

50,000 Monkeys at 50,000 Typewriters Can't Be Wrong

Author: Wil

Author, actor, producer. On a good day, I am charming as fuck.

Criminal Minds: The Read Through

Posted on 23 October, 2008 By Wil

This is the second of five posts about working on episode four, Paradise, during season four of Criminal Minds. I spoke with CliqueClack.com about some of my production experiences, and I have a gallery of images from the shoot at Flickr. Please note that I’ve done my best to recreate my interactions with the cast and crew, but this isn’t a perfect, literal translation of the entire experience.

About a week before my episode began production, I was invited out to the studio for a table read. This is exactly what it sounds like: the cast, writers, producers, department heads, and other people involved with production get together around a big table to read the next episode on the schedule. This is a great way for the writers to hear if things need last minute tweaking, for series regulars to give some input on the script, and for guest stars to meet the people they’ll be working with. Not all shows do it, but I think it makes a difference.

We did the table read for Paradise during a lunch break while they were filming Minimal Loss. One of the regulars, I forget who, almost couldn’t make it, and Luke Perry was going to fill in for him. I thought that it would have been so cool to work with him, even if it was just a table read, but why in the world would he want to spend his lunch hour filling in for someone else when he wasn’t even in the episode? By the time I was done working on the show, I totally understood. The cast and crew of Criminal Minds made me feel like I was part of their family, and I never wanted to leave.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

I was the first actor to arrive, and I had about fifteen minutes to kill before they broke for lunch. We were going to do the table read in the same room where I had my audition, so I waited around in front of it, and tried not to look like I was waiting around in front of it.

Erica, who I read with during my audition, walked out of a nearby building and over to me. Again, I apologized for freaking her out during my reading, and again she told me that it was okay.

“You’re the first one here,” she said, “so if you want to go grab some lunch, it’s over there.”

She pointed to the catering truck. Over the next week, I’d eat the best food I’ve ever eaten on a set, and if I’d known then what I know now, I probably would have gone over and gorged myself, but at the time, I was too nervous to eat.

“I think I’ll just wait here,” I said. “I don’t want to go inside and be the first kid in the class, you know?” I laughed nervously.

She laughed. “That’s understandable.”

I pulled out my notebook while I waited and wrote down, “I feel like the first kid to come to class on the first day of school. And I’m new. Yipe!”

“So I hear that you’re a writer now,” she said.

“Yeah, I guess I am.”

“What does that mean for you as an actor?”

This is a question I’ve wrestled with a lot, and I haven’t come up with one consistent answer. “Um, I mostly write, and I only go on auditions for parts that I think are right, as opposed to going on everything that I can and hoping that something will stick.”

She nodded, as cast and crew started to come out of the stage and toward the trailer. A kaleidoscope of butterflies exploded in my stomach. This was really happening.

“I’ll see you inside,” she said.

“Awesome!” I said.

A weird and unexpected thing happened over the next few minutes: a whole bunch of people who work on the show walked over to me and introduced themselves. They were excited that I was working on the show! They read my blog! They wanted to say nice things to me! I was totally unprepared for this, and all I remember is trying not to stumble over my words too much while I said thank you.

After a minute, we began to file into the room. The same tables were there, but now there were place cards with names on them. Beneath the actor’s names, their character’s name was written. Production staff had their name and job description, and department heads had the name of their department. I found my name, back in the corner farthest from the door.

Before I could sit down, Paget Brewster walked up to me. Several years ago, Paget and I worked together on a live pilot presentation for a show called Celebrity D&D. It was a pitch for Comedy Central, I think, and it was hilarious. She and I and one other girl were the adventurers. An actor played the Dungeon Master, and lots of improvisers dressed up in silly costumes as they acted out the various scenes and challenges in a short, comedic dungeon crawl. We did it for a sold out theater, and they loved it. It was superawesome, and I was shocked that it didn’t get picked up, while dozens of less-funny, less-creative, totally stupid pieces of crap did that year. I wasn’t sure if Paget would remember me, so I had my “Hey, I don’t know if you remember me . . .” speech all loaded up and ready to run when she said, “Hey, I don’t know if you remember me but -“

“We did Celebrity D&D together!” I said. “I thought there was no way you’d remember that!”

She laughed and said, “I thought the same thing!”

We talked for a minute about actor things. She told me how excited she was that I was there, and gave me the inside scoop on all the different people in the cast and crew, which pretty much came down to “everyone here is awesome and we all like each other a lot. You’re going to have a wonderful time.”

I began to slowly trade my nervousness for excitement. I’d only been there for twenty minutes, and I already felt welcomed, and part of the team.

Paget was called away by someone from production, so I sat down, and opened my script. I looked at it for a moment, and there was a tap on my shoulder. I looked up and a smiling woman introduced herself to me.

“I’m Erica Messer,” she said, “I co-wrote this episode.”

I stood up, shook her hand, and thanked her for hiring me. She said some really nice things about my audition. I wanted to ask her a million questions about writing, but put that shit in check; I was there as an actor, and I could be a geeky writer some other time. (I wrote a little bit about this in a post called changing gears for criminal minds.)

We talked about Floyd’s pathology as the room filled up. I was pleased and relieved to discover that my take on Floyd was essentially in line with hers.

“This is going to sound really horrible,” I said, “but when I was a kid, I was just fascinated by serial killers. I think it’s because I grew up during the whole Night Stalker summer. When I was in my teens and early 20s, I read way too many true crime books, so I think I have a slightly broader knowledge of these bad guys than the average person.”

I don’t recall what she said, but she didn’t look mortified, which I took as a good sign.

“We’re really happy that you’re here,” she said, reaching up and squeezing my shoulder, “I’ll see you later.”

“Thanks!” I said. She walked over to the other side of the room, and I sat back down.

I felt a presence to my right. I looked over, and saw a beautiful woman with incredible red hair sit down.

“Oh my god,” I said. “Robyn Lively.”

She looked at me.

“It’s Wil Wheaton,” I said.

“Oh my god! It is!” She jumped up and hugged me. We knew each other when we were kids. We always seemed to end up at the same Teen Idol things, and I really liked her. She was normal, not into being famous, and was always incredibly kind to me.

“Are you playing Abby?” I said.

“Yeah.”

“I’m Floyd.” I said. “I’ll be your kidnapper and torturer for the next five days and four romantic nights.”

We looked at each other for a second and giggled. Before we could say anything else, someone on the other side of the room called the table read to order, and we went around the table introducing ourselves. I kept it together, and my voice was steady when I introduced myself. We continued clockwise around the table. All the way down, on my left, an actor who I recognized but couldn’t recall in my mental imdb said, “William Mapother, playing Ian Corbin.”

“Hmmm . . . Ian . . . that sounds kind of like . . . Ethan! OMG ETHAN! That’s Ethan from Lost! CREEPY! AWESOME!”

Luckily, these were inside thoughts, and they stayed there. I may have surreptitiously scribbled “OMG ETHAN FROM LOST” in my notebook.

Once everyone was introduced, we began to read the script.

Floyd didn’t make his first appearance for several pages, so I was able to observe the room while everyone else did their thing. The regulars were relaxed, and cracked some jokes. In my notebook, I wrote, “Lighthearted – they do this every week.”

I noted that all of the actors were conserving their energy, reading their lines quietly, while my instinct was to project enough to the entire room. I thought about the differences between us: these guys work 10 to 12 hours a day, five days a week. They’re used to performing for the camera, which is considerably more intimate than what I’ve been used to. For the last couple of years, most of my performances have been on stage, to audiences that average a couple of hundred people. I was glad I picked up on this before I read my parts, because I think it saved me from what could have been some embarrassing over-projection.

The whole thing took about 45 minutes, and when we were done, I got to meet some of the cast who came in after I was in my seat. Kirsten Vangsness and Matthew Gray Gubler, it turns out, are real-life geeks who thought my “I’m uncertain about quantum physics” T-shirt was funny because it’s true. Joe Mantegna didn’t freak out at me when I slimed him – just a little bit – about playing Fat Tony. Thomas Gibson had a disarming kindness that makes the intensity he brings to Hotch even more impressive. I didn’t get to meet any of the other actors before the first AD called them back to work, but when I eventullay did, I wasn’t surprised that they were all as friendly and gracious and wonderful as the people I met during the table read.

It was going to be four or five days before I got to bring Floyd to life. I couldn’t wait. I felt like kid counting down to Christmas.

Next: Run Floyd, Run!

Criminal Minds: The Audition

Posted on 22 October, 2008 By Wil

This is the first of five posts about working on episode four, Paradise, during season four of Criminal Minds. I spoke with CliqueClack.com about some of my production experiences, and I have a gallery of images from the shoot at Flickr. Please note that I’ve done my best to recreate my interactions with the cast and crew, but this isn’t a perfect, literal translation of the entire experience.

Working on Criminal Minds was one of the greatest experiences of my professional life. Over the next couple of days, I’m going to publish a series of posts here, in which I will attempt to document, as accurately and thoroughly as possible, what it was like to work on the show. I will begin with the audition.

I wrote a little bit about my audition right after it happened:

When I was in the room, I didn’t think about the people there, I didn’t think about what was at stake (directly or indirectly) and I just focused on the person I was reading with. I didn’t do anything fancy, just gave them my simple-but-deliberate take on this guy.

I felt better than I felt after I sucked out loud last week. I didn’t know if I nailed it, but I’d made my deliberate-but-risky choices, and I’d committed to them entirely. Whether I got the job or not, at least I had that to take home with me and keep in a box on the shelf for the weekend.

A few hours after I got home, my manager called me.

“Well, I have some feedback,” he said.

“That was fast,” I said.

“Yeah, I guess they wanted you to know right away that you’re hired.”

“Really?!” I said. I always say that, even though I know that my manager is never going to call me up, tell me a got a job, and then say, “Ha! PSYKE!”

“Yes, really.” He said.

Now that the show has aired, I can talk more specifically about the audition process. I prepared two scenes, the scene with Hotch where I totally fool him into thinking I’m just a normal, non-killing kinda guy who owns a spooky motel, and a scene where I’m about to do very bad things to Abby.

The audition was in a one room trailer at Quixote studios in Glendale. It was probably 30 by 50 feet, with several conference tables arranged around three sides. The writers, producers, casting people and the director were all behind one of them. The size of the room could have made it very intimidating, but everyone in it was friendly and welcoming as soon as I walked in. I should note that auditions are not as frequently like this as you’d think.

The audition scenes were very short and fairly simple, and I’d been able to memorize them[1]. After I said hello to everyone, I put my sides in my pocket, and began the first of the two scenes. They weren’t taping the audition, so I was free to move around and, as they say, “use the space” as much as I wanted.

In the first scene, I was friendly, I was concerned about these two people, and I made a genuine effort to be helpful, because that’s what I figured this guy would do if he was interviewed by an FBI agent. I felt the scene went well, and my Spidey sense told me that the other people in the room were pleased.

We moved to the second scene, where I do Very Bad Things to Abby. It was different in the audition draft of the script than what we eventually filmed, but the essence of the scene was the same. I was cruel, I was sadistic, and I enjoyed her suffering.

There was much less dialog in the second scene than there was in the first. I think it was just under a page and a half. I figured that this scene would really live in the gaps between the words, so I took my time when I performed it, and didn’t rush my reactions. Because I didn’t have the sides in my hands, I could move around a little bit, and I could be physically menacing.

There was one exchange where I ask her, “Are you ready?” and she doesn’t respond, so I ask her again, a little more forcefully. When we got to that part of the scene, I looked at Erica, the casting associate who was reading with me, and asked her the question. In my mind, I was planning some very awful things. I mean, I was disturbingly committed to this character. I could see the things I was planning to do. I could feel the excitement and satisfaction. It really lived in me, and I could tell that it made her uncomfortable. As Floyd, I enjoyed the hell out of that. It turned Floyd on. When she didn’t answer, I took a couple of steps toward her, crouched down close to her, and leaned in, so she was forced to look at me. This was an incredibly risky thing to do, because it nearly broke an unwritten rule about auditions: actors can interact with casting, but only to a point. But at that moment, I had let Floyd take over me.

“Are. You. Ready?” I said, Floyd’s pure evil flowing freely through me. She shook her head, and I saw tears forming in her eyes. As Floyd, that was awesome. I forget precisely how I reacted to it, but I let the moment linger, and then the scene was over.

“Very nice,” said Scott David, who is the casting director (and, coincidentally, one of my favorite casting people in the industry. He’s up there with Tony Sepulveda.)

Scott turned to the director, John Gallager, and said, “Would you like to see anything else?”

“No,” he said, “but why don’t you tell Erica something nice about yourself?”

The entire room laughed, like a huge release of tension. I was thrilled that I’d been able to create that moment. I smiled at her and said, “I’m really a nice guy! I’m a total geek, I have two kids, and I’d never hurt anyone, especially you.”

She blinked back tears and joined in the laughter.

I thanked everyone in the room, and Erica walked me out. As soon as the door closed, I said “I’m really sorry. I couldn’t have done that if you hadn’t given me so much to work with.”

“Don’t be!” She said. “Thank you!”

I walked back to my car. I felt good. I felt satisfied. My job as an actor is to go into that room and make an impression. I was pretty confident that I’d done that, and that the impression wasn’t “oh man, Wil Wheaton sucks!”

On the way home, I deconstructed the experience. I owe a great deal of gratitude to my friend David Lawrence for inspiring me to take such a big creative risk in the audition. David Lawrence is playing Eric Doyle on Heroes this season. He plays a very creepy, very evil, very bad man. Kind of like the character I played on Criminal Minds, maybe without the raping and torturing.

David had his Heroes audition right before I had my Criminal Minds audition. David and I rarely talk shop about acting, but when someone you know is on a show like Heroes, you kind of want to know how it all went down, you know? He told me how he created a very lucid reality in his head for his reading. He’d seen and felt what it was like to control people, and let that inspire and guide him through his audition. I thought about that level of total commitment a lot while I prepared my Criminal Minds audition. When I saw that I wouldn’t be stuck in the obligatory audition chair or tied to my sides for the reading, I decided to commit to the role completely, physically and emotionally, in ways that usually aren’t possible in auditions. I took a huge creative risk, and it paid off.

I’ve written extensively about how I believe actors have to find a way to enjoy themselves whether they book the job or not. I guess it’s kind of twisted to say that I enjoyed myself by being such an evil man, but committing to something completely, and refusing to look back until it was all over, was tremendously satisfying.

I would soon find out that I had the job before the door had closed behind me.

Awesome.

Next: The Read Through.

[1] We call this being “off-book” and though it’s not required, I prefer to be as off-book as possible when I audition, so I can make lots of eye contact and give something that’s closer to a performance than a reading. Sometimes, though, this just isn’t possible because there’s a lot of material or real life doesn’t give me enough time to rehearse it enough to feel like I can do it without referring to the sides. It can also really suck if I’m reading with someone who isn’t giving me anything to work off of, so even when I am off-book, I usually keep my sides in my hand.

Reminder: I’m on Criminal Minds tonight

Posted on 22 October, 2008 By Wil

Tonight at 9pm et/pt on CBS, you can catch my episode of Criminal Minds, Paradise.

A serial killer who disguises his victims’ demise by creating car accidents to mask their earlier deaths is the subject of a BAU manhunt, on CRIMINAL MINDS, Wednesday, Oct. 22 (9:00-10:00 PM, ET/PT) on the CBS Television Network. William Mapother (“Lost”) and Wil Wheaton (“Numb3rs”) guest star.

I worked with William Mapother and Robin Lively for much of the story. You can read an interview with William, but be warned that it’s a little spoilerish. Also, the Criminal Minds Fanatic blog has some pictures and a huge pile of spoilers.

I kept a production diary when I worked on the show, and after it airs tonight, I’ll start posting it. I think it will eventually run four posts, after I cut it up. Here’s a spoiler-free excerpt:

We did the table read for Paradise during a lunch break while they were filming Minimal Loss. One of the regulars, I forget who, almost couldn’t make it, and Luke Perry was going to fill in for him. I recall thinking that it would have been so cool to work – even in a table read – with him, but why in the world would he want to spend his lunch hour filling in for a series regular? By the time I was done with my episode, I totally understood. The cast and crew of Criminal Minds made me feel like I was part of their family, and I never wanted to leave.

I’m really proud of this episode and my work in it. I felt great when we shot it, like I’d done what the script demanded, and everyone seemed very happy with the quality of the work.

So, of course, now that the show is airing in 10 hours, I’m terrified that I’m going to suck. Sigh.

Oh, and a warning to people who haven’t seen the show yet: I’m sure there will be spoilers in this post from our dear friends in Canuckistan, who saw the show last night.

so fucking special

Posted on 21 October, 2008 By Wil

I hope this makes my fellow Gen Xers as happy as it made me.

Damn kids today: When we saw this during October, it usually meant that something wonderful, like a It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown was about to start. When we saw it in December, it usually meant a Rankin/Bass special was about to transport us to a land where Bumbles Bounce. If your parents didn’t get the TV guide, seeing this was like finding a treasure map, and the few seconds of darkness between its ending and whatever came next, always felt like an eternity.

Like the sound of a 56K modem connecting, it’s a familiar and visceral reminder of a time that’s long gone. I don’t know about the rest of you, but it makes me incredibly happy, like finding an old friend.

Ohh! I had to edit and add this comment from reader Magic_Al:

“To a kid, this was the television equivalent of gift-wrap. You hope it’s going to be a toy but it could turn out to be a sweater.”

Absolutely, Magic_Al. That is the perfect way to describe it. I wish I’d thought of that!

in which wil repeats some advice for actors on auditioning

Posted on 21 October, 2008 By Wil

Though I’ve written and performed hundreds of hours of sketch and improv comedy, worked on tons of the VH1 “I love the last five minutes” shows, and every episode of What I Learned From the Movies . . . , the belief that I am not funny and can’t handle comedy persists in Hollywood. This means that there’s an extra step in the audition process for me when it comes to comedies, because casting directors won’t let me read for their producers without seeing me first.

It’s a little frustrating, because I believe that my 30 years of acting experience and resume should count for something, but I’m a professional, I understand their reservations, and if the project is good enough, I’ll suck up my pride and do it, well aware that there are hundreds, if not thousands, of actors who would do anything for the same opportunity that I would never dream of complaining about in a public forum like, say, a blog.

Yesterday, I had one of these auditions, for a pilot that had one of the more charming scripts I’ve seen in a very long while. I didn’t know about the audition until I was in Oregon, so my manager FAXed the pages to me (how quaint! I’d left my computer at home so I wouldn’t be tempted to work while we were /away.) It was pretty straightforward, so I did most of my preparation while Anne drove us from Ashland to Sacramento to catch our flight home (this makes more sense than trying to fly into Medford. We’ve done the math.)

I felt confident and prepared, and when I did my song and dance for the casting people, I didn’t stink the place up. I got the feeling from them that I’m not the guy, and I probably won’t be brought back for the producers, but the casting people were awesome, and created an environment where I felt like I was playing in front of the home crowd. I gave them my take on the character, got out of there before I could say something stupid, and really enjoyed myself.

This is something I tell actors all the time: you have to find ways to enjoy auditions, and as hard as it is, as counter intuitive as it is, you just can’t make success or failure about booking the job. You have to make success or failure about enjoying yourself. You’ve got to enjoy the process of creating the character, preparing the audition, and then giving the people on the other side of the desk whatever your take on the character is. You absolutely can not go in there and try to give them what you think they want. The way you stand out, and the way you enjoy it whether you are hired or not, is to take the material, prepare it, and find some way to make it your own. Even if you don’t book the job (and the ratio of auditions to jobs is something like 20:1 for successful actors) you’ve been creative. Casting people will recognize that, and even if you’re not right for this particular job, they are more likely to bring you in for other parts, because they’ve already seen you take a creative risk.

This dovetails with some advice one of my acting teachers once gave me: auditioning can’t be the only place an actor has to get the creative monkey off his back. Acting workshops, live theater, sketch and improv shows, and other non-competitive performing environments are vital creative outlets for actors who wish to retain any sort of sanity. Having these places to perform does more than keep your skills in shape; it should take some of the importance away from auditions, letting you get out of your own way so you can enjoy the process.

  • Previous
  • 1
  • …
  • 380
  • 381
  • 382
  • …
  • 764
  • Next

Search the archives

Creative Commons License

 

  • Instagram
©2025 WIL WHEATON dot NET | WordPress Theme by SuperbThemes