Description
Ten minutes.
That’s all I had between make-up and filming. I usually took this time, be it ten minutes, fifteen or sometimes only thirty seconds, to grab some water or rehearse my lines in my caravan. I shouldn’t have strayed from routine.
Ten minutes. That’s all it took for me to destroy every bit of success I’d achieved in the past fifteen years.
I’d only been eight when I’d written out Ruby’s Master Plan:
Move to New York.
Get an acting gig.
Make money.
I’d ticked them all off by the age of eighteen.
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