Hollywood Career Coach Gives Advice on Fake Love Story Turned Real

Help! My fake “showmance” is turning into reality!

Dear Remy,

For the past six months, I’ve been in a fake relationship with a pop star. I’m an actor, I’ve just broken into the big leagues, and suddenly I find myself surrounded by a whole “team”.

You know the drill: press agents, private chefs, and even a beautician. (The first time I heard that word, I thought they were saying “obstetrician” and nearly fainted. But apparently, beauticians are skincare professionals, not babies.)

Remy, have you ever met a PR professional? They’re terrifying. They talk at a speed beyond human comprehension. And my team quickly decided that a fake romance between me and another rising star—this pop singer—would be a great PR move for both of us. So here come the staged paparazzi photos of me backstage at her concert, the fake photos of us boarding a private jet at Austin-Bergstrom, and the cheesy shots of us sharing a Stanley Cup on 5th Avenue. (Two straws, one cup. Wow.)

The problem? Actually, I’m completely crazy about her. For real.

I dream of braiding her hair, buying us matching slankets, and taking her for a ride in a two-person paddle boat. I even dream of building her a cabin in the woods with a recording studio for her, a dojo for me, and a pier so we can go fly fishing.

But here’s the catch: I can’t tell anyone. My PR team has the whole relationship planned out. We’re supposed to “break up” around Thanksgiving (the Instagram announcement is already written, including the font and colors), and after that, I’m supposed to stop shaving until Halloween to convince the public that I’ve “gone off the rails.”

Remy, I’m lost. What should I do? I’m a hopeless romantic and I fell in love with someone as a publicity stunt.

Sincerely,
A leading actor in love

Dear Leading Actor in Love,

Oh yeah. The wild world of PR. I’ve met PR pros before and let me tell you, they can be terrifying, especially when they talk about “strategies” like your beard timeline. But let’s be serious for a moment.

You’re reaching a new level of fame, which of course involves some PR drama. But let’s not lose sight of one important element: your feelings. You’re caught between a rock and a hard place (or, in your case, a private jet and a Stanley Cup). PR can sometimes blur the lines between reality and narrative, but real emotions like yours need their own space to breathe.

The first thing to do is talk to your team. PR pros often see their clients as avatars on their media chessboard, but it’s time to remind them that you’re a human being, not a starry-eyed Pac-Man gobbling up PR points. Be honest about how this fake love affair is affecting you mentally and emotionally. Transparency can lead to a better strategy that respects both your feelings and your career.

Finally, ask yourself: Does this romance have a chance of happening outside the limelight? Does your pop star dream of log cabins and matching slankets? Does she really like fly fishing? These questions are important if you want a real relationship, not just one prepared for social media.

Keep me posted: I hope you find a love that’s more than just publicity stunts and Instagram filters.

Remy

My job is to commit murder… literally.

Dear Remy,

Einstein once said that insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. I’m sure he was talking about murder documentaries.

I loved being a documentary filmmaker: it took me all over the world, flexed my academic muscles (I majored in anthropology at Yale, with a minor in primate evolution), and allowed me to tell unique stories.

But for the past five years, I’ve been dealing with nothing but murder. Every day is the same: drone footage of grassy marshes where a stranger’s shoe was found, interviewing coroners who all use the same haunting tone, and listening to the sad cello soundtracks that now dominate my Spotify algorithm. I even saved the phone numbers of every pathologist from Seattle to Orlando to my contacts.

Frankly, I find the world’s obsession with murder disturbing. It’s as if humanity has become “murder-starved” and I’m the reluctant supplier.

I thought I had seen the light at the end of the tunnel when a former executive called me to ask if I wanted to try something new. But it turned out to be… a podcast about murder.

Remy, help me. Should I continue on this dark and bloody path or should I stop while I still have some sanity? I dream of making a documentary about regenerative agriculture in the Lower Mekong. Who am I kidding?

Sincerely,
Stuck in a dead-end job

Dear Stuck in a Dead End Job,

I feel your pain. Your world is colored by crime scene footage, and I can understand why you might want to film literally anything else, maybe a heartwarming story about alpacas?

But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Murder documentaries are a form of anthropology in their own right. They explore human behavior, social reactions, and even cultural taboos. The fascination with death is nothing new: humanity has been obsessed with it since time immemorial. So don’t be too hard on yourself for being part of this genre—after all, it’s not like we’re putting heads on pikes anymore, right?

Perhaps the problem is not the subject matter, but that it has become so conventional. These stories are not just about crime scenes. What about the lives of those left behind? How do communities rebuild? Are there interesting, untold stories in these tragedies that might rekindle your passion?

Why not take the murder podcast offer, but use it as a springboard to branch out? At the same time, start working on that Lower Mekong project. You never know, you might find a way to merge your two worlds. After all, who says the Mekong doesn’t have its own dark secrets?

Hang in there and don’t declare your career’s death knell just yet.

Remy

Am I too beautiful for my own good?

Dear Remy,

It pains me to write this, because I consider myself far above such things. But I have no choice.

To put it modestly, I am one of the most famous actresses in the world. I have been called a “movie darling,” “Hollywood doyenne,” and even a “national treasure.”

Naturally, when a major studio offered me to make a biopic about my life, I immediately accepted. It would be a crime to deprive the public of my story.

But then came the worst: the casting process. The actresses I was offered were downright insulting. Skinny, eccentric creatures who wouldn’t look out of place selling cleaning products on cable TV, and certainly not starring in a blockbuster movie.

Remy, should I accept that a beauty like mine cannot be reproduced? Should I simply abandon the project and fire my agent (this would be my third this year)?

Sincerely,
A disgruntled dean

Dear Disgruntled Dean

A casting in Hollywood is like a date. Sometimes the ideal partner is not obvious at first glance.

Casting directors aren’t just looking for physical beauty (even though that’s clearly your number one concern). They’re looking for the intangible qualities that make someone like you a true star. It’s not just about finding someone with perfect cheekbones or a perfect smile for the camera; it’s about capturing your essence. Think about it: the way you speak, your unique walk, the way you give that killer look when someone dares to bring you the wrong coffee. That’s what they’re trying to cast.

And let’s be honest: Beauty standards have evolved since you first hit the scene. Hollywood is no longer about perfection. That “eccentric” actress you’ve been dismissing might surprise you with how she captures your inner self, even if she’s not your physical twin.

As for your agent, you might want to slow down the firings. Going through three agents in a year is a red flag, even in this town. Keep an open mind, trust the process (yes, I know it’s a cliché), and remember that a biopic isn’t just about vanity, it’s about legacy.

Remy

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Remy Blumenfeld is a seasoned television producer and the founder of Vitality Guru, which provides career and career coaching to the media industry’s most successful professionals. Send your questions to: [email protected].

Questions edited by Sarah Mills.