And The Winner Is....

What a difference a year makes.

Last year I wrote a blogpost about award season where was working and watching awards shows.

This year, I was the one at the parties and award shows.

I had sort of a “pinch me” moment while backstage at the Independent Spirit Awards. I was uncomfortable…. Didn’t know anyone and the only person I did know…was working with her headset on and rushing around. I watched Natalie Portman, Annette Benning, Mark Ruffalo, the entire cast of Winters Bone, and show host Joel McHale (who is very tall) all walk by. When a waiter came by and offered me an Irish Coffee (Jameson Irish Whiskey was their sponsor) I took it, and sipped down some confidence.

Going to these events is sort of like work.  You get out there and talk with people, put together movie deals and meet those that can make things happen. My mantra was, “this is your year Heidi.” So I put on my party dress with that attitude. I was there to work. (And I was working in 5 inch heels and a nice sheen of new Josie Maran make-up.)

Later that evening I had a wingman, my manager Adam, to the Weinstein Company party at The SoHo House. I was not allowed to be a wallflower, he was working the room and introducing me to friends along the way. Work, work, work…this is work?

As I tried not to spill my cocktail, nor let the backpain that was starting to collect in my lower back get the better of me, (damn heels), Adam was setting up meetings for me to meet with producers, agents, and financiers. We literally worked the room. I saw former colleagues, friends, and old love interests. Work, work, work.

I scanned the room and started noticing patterns. I watched women bat their lashes at males in the room. Actors, agents, producers all sipping their “cocktail confidence” trying to get laid. There were posers acting like they were big shots, slutty actresses trying to book “jobs” on casting couches, and there were big actors wide eyed and trying to figure out where their publicists were. And then it hit me….what was I really doing here? I wanted these people to read my book, make it into a movie, hell, turn my life into a Cinderella tale.

As I clicked my heels together ala Dorothy and watched a cute little brunette, claws out, batting lashes, fixated on Adam, I made my breakaway and found a loan chair to give my feet a break. There I met a wonderful woman *Joan whose husband was “working” as she put it. (This wasn’t Joan’s first rodeo show.) “I hate award season” she lamented. Joan was not only going to this party, but the Oscars the next day. Her husband was nominated.

Sweet, a real insider.

Joan asked me about my story, why I was there, who was I there with etc. Telling her I was a writer was easy, and Joan was happy that I was just a normal, non-poser type, looking for love in a sea of “the enhanced”. Joan began her commentary on the women at this event pointing out bad boob jobs, lip injections, and hair extensions. “It’s all too much” and even their surgeons were at this party. (Really, people bring their plastic surgeons to Hollywood parties? “They are working the room too.” Fascinating.)

After a good thirty minutes of chatting with Joan, who promised to call me later and set me up with a “great guy not in the business”, she clinked my glass and left me to go find Adam.

Adam and I went from party to party, keeping up our “cocktail confidence” airs about us. Work, work, work. I finally cab-ed it home circa 1:00am, my business card holder empty, and a glass of water with a Tylenol as my new drink of choice. I was home.

I woke up Sunday morning and knew I had changed from a year ago. I had grown. Sure there were lessons and “access” I learned from my old job. But I had a new confidence, not alcohol induced, I was a published writer. People wanted to meet me. And I wasn’t in the shadows. I was re-born.

On Sunday, I received tweets from friends on red carpets (ohmiygod, they don’t have lit toilets for reporters at Elton John!) and watched an ex boyfriend perfect his comb-over on E! while mugging in the background. I happily watched the awards with a friend, cooked a fabulous meal and had a relaxed air. My friend turned to me and said, “you’re different”…if only he knew the real truth.

I was a winner too.
*Joan is not her real name, but her husband is now an Oscar winner.