Cousins Dreaming of Stardom
Anne and Peter were cousins. Both in their early twenties, they introduced themselves as vocal majors with dreams of becoming West End musical stars someday. For Woojin, stumbling into this connection with them was a stroke of pure joy. He led them from Trafalgar Square to a rather upscale restaurant known for its steaks—something like a family-style steakhouse back in Korea.
“I’ve got this.”
“Whoa!”
“N-no, really, we’re fine! How about we just grab some light sandwiches instead…”
Embarrassment and fluster crossed Anne and Peter’s faces. Woojin flashed a gentle smile.
“You sang your hearts out all morning—that takes a lot out of you. You need some meat to recharge for more singing!”
“B-but still…”
“This place looks kinda pricey…”
“I want to treat you guys. It’s cool—let’s go.”
Struggling actors wearing the badge of ‘aspirant,’ practicing on the streets. Their dreams might come true tomorrow or linger unfulfilled forever. Enduring those nameless years to become an actor was the same grueling trial everywhere, borders be damned. Woojin, who knew that grind better than anyone—the endless sweat and tears it demanded—wanted to encourage these two fledglings however he could.
If someone asked why he was being so generous to total strangers, he’d answer: ‘Just because I want to.’
‘Those brutal days grinding as an extra were so lonely. No one reached out to me.’
‘That’s why I want to do this now!’
They settled into the quietest corner booth. Even as they ordered, Anne and Peter couldn’t hide their guilt, eyeing the cheapest options. Woojin took over, picking out the menu himself.
“Thank you, Woojin!”
“Then we’ll happily accept your picks. We’ll become famous artists and pay you back someday.”
Gratitude poured out of them again and again. Anne and Peter were the kind of people who truly appreciated kindness from a random passerby. As they dug into their food, the rapport deepened into lively chatter—like old friends reunited.
“Lily Header’s my role model, so seeing the guy from her video right in front of me? Totally surreal!”
“Michael, John, Lily—they’re all amazing West End legends. And with director Mac O’Brien there too? If it were me, I’d be full just from breathing the air at the door!”
Aspiring actors’ eyes lit up the moment talk turned to performances and roles. Woojin wasn’t the only one; Anne and Peter transformed too.
“I’m an actor too.”
Woojin came out and said it. The conversation turned even brighter. Their attention locked onto him, pulling a natural self-introduction from his lips: a famous Korean actor recognized for his skills, three years into his career with five films under his belt and solid name recognition.
Beyond the surface, he added, “I’ve been through tons of auditions too. Honestly, my whole life felt like one big audition.”
That hit home deeper than any platitude. The moment they learned he was an actor, Anne and Peter whipped out their phones, searching YouTube for his acting clips. Their eyes widened in disbelief. They couldn’t understand Korean, but an actor’s expressions and movements carried raw emotion. One look at the videos, and it was clear: Woojin was a genuine thespian.
And this guy had lived a life of endless auditions?
“You, with acting like this, failed auditions over and over? Dozens of times?!”
“…How many clips did you watch?”
“Haha! You might not believe it, but no exaggeration—it’s all true.”
Their eyes bulged. Woojin continued calmly.
“Five hundred times.”
“……!”
“Wait, what?!”
Leaning forward as if they’d misheard, Anne and Peter stared. Woojin repeated it low and deliberate.
“Five. Hundred. Times.”
No mistake. Their butts nearly lifted off the seats in shock. Amazing. What kind of country was Korea?
“Wah…”
It started as awe, but trailed off. Looking into Woojin’s eyes, the truth shone plain—no lies there. Anne clicked her tongue; Peter shook his head.
Five hundred auditions… Insane tenacity and passion. How did he survive it? Pure wonder.
“Here’s my take,” Woojin said. “When advising someone who wants to act, you can’t just say ‘you’ll make it.’ That world’s too vague for empty hope and fantasy.”
“True.”
“Totally agree, Woojin!”
They nodded. He went on.
“That’s why I only share what I’ve actually lived through. If I pulled it off, others can too—I believe that.”
More nods. He added, “When I started acting, someone told me to set a limit. So I vowed: 500 auditions, then decide. No quitting till then—just keep crashing against it. That drive got me through, and I succeeded.”
Indescribable emotion flickered across their faces. You’re doing great. Don’t give up. Encouragement like that packs real power when it comes from someone who’s proven it.
Woojin’s heartfelt advice might’ve been exactly what they’d longed to hear.
“One thing I’m curious about now.”
“Shoot!”
“How do auditions work in the West End?”
Woojin’s sudden question. He’d already urged them to chase their dreams relentlessly. Now, for the practical side. To give advice that truly helped, he needed to know how it aligned with Korea’s system.
“Well, West End… auditions get posted first.”
“Makes sense—postings start everything. Then what?”
“You send your profile and demo tape. There’s usually a specified song.”
“Right. If they call back, you go in person.”
Seemed no different from Korea. Anne and Peter shrugged like it was standard. But Woojin saw otherwise.
“That’s… it?”
“Huh?”
“Send profile and demo, wait for contact. That’s the whole process?”
Huh? They looked puzzled. What else was there?
Woojin smiled faintly. “No big meaning—just seems too ordinary.”
“Ordinary?”
“Yeah, no personality. Just a demo and profile… How many apply per audition?”
“Uh… Last one we did was The Prince of Egypt earlier this year. At least 900-to-1.”
Before Anne finished, Woojin jumped in. “Bet 90% of those 900 did exactly what you did: profile and demo. Nothing more.”
Ding. Their eyes widened for a new reason.
“In Korea, audition culture’s evolved. What you described? Already outdated there.”
His soft yet firm voice opened their ears wide.
“Back then, actors chased postings in person. That meant agencies scouted new faces for rookies to chase.”
“Oh? And now?”
“More aspiring actors, fewer rookie slots. Algorithms shift naturally. So now…”
Woojin’s eyes gleamed. The know-how that earned him the joking title ‘Audition Master’ from Seong-o spilled out.
“You make them come to you. Producers won’t hunt new faces. Why? Amateurs swarm for any scrap of chance. No need to seek when they flock.”
Logic they’d never considered—but spot-on. Mild shock rippled over Anne and Peter.
“Yet a new face makes them come? I’d cast that rookie. You two?”
“Obviously…”
“Hire on the spot!”
“Exactly. That’s what I learned from 500 auditions. 90% of applicants show the same prep, same analysis, same acting. Auditions aren’t them competing—it’s the top 10% battling. And even there, you need what sets you apart.”
Their hearts pounded. No one had ever dropped practical gems like this. Film, drama, theater, musical—any aspiring actor would get it instantly.
From the start, stepping from practice rooms or school into the real world. You know the basics: shoot profile pics, make demo reels since no credits yet—pay for acting footage or student shorts. Build that, then hit commercial or indie auditions. Standard path.
Everyone knows it. But how and where to start? No one teaches. And it all costs money. Pro profiles from top studios? 300,000 won minimum for two concepts. Student shorts? Hundreds-to-1 competition now.
Most juggle jobs to chase dreams, so shelling out cash ain’t easy. Mess up the shoot? Money down the drain. Time slips by in hesitation. A year, two, three… Then it hits: ‘This was the way.’ ‘Wasted time overthinking.’ ‘Why didn’t I know sooner?’
Woojin lived it. His era wasn’t rookies chasing producers—it was making producers chase you for edge. Trial and error only way to learn.
Wish someone had spelled it out early… That’s why he was breaking it down for Anne and Peter now. Sharing what he knew that could help.
“Demo and profile? Great. Add one more.”
“What?”
“Performance video. Film your street busking and send it with the rest.”
“…Ah!”
That method! They’d been trapped in the mold. Told profile and demo? Sent just that. No unique edge. Realization—and a sigh—escaped them.
“You performing tonight?”
“Yeah, gotta!”
“Where? Same spot?”
“Yep, always there. About a month now.”
Woojin made a fun proposal.
“How about switching venues this time?”
“Where to?”
“Center of Trafalgar Square.”
He continued, “If you’re game, I’ll film it. Shot tons of personal audition reels—practically an expert.”
He held up his camera with a grin. They bowed repeatedly in thanks. Then Anne ventured, “But Woojin… we’re grateful, really. Just curious—why go so far for us?”
Peter swallowed hard.
“Because I want to. If it feels too much or burdensome, grant me one favor. Call it even.”
“Deal—what?”
“Anything we can do!”
Woojin grinned slowly. “Teach me.”
“……?”
“Singing.”
A desire gnawing at him throughout his West End stay: ‘I want to learn to sing.’
Not a bad trade, right? His final words drew wide smiles across Anne and Peter’s faces too.