The Times is speaking with nominees for the 78th Emmy Awards, to be presented on Sept. 14 on NBC.

Long before she became a first-time Emmy nominee for her role in the Apple TV horror-comedy “Widow’s Bay,” Dale Dickey waited tables, parked cars and donned a purple Barney suit at children’s birthday parties to pay the bills.

“I’d be crying inside Barney’s head thinking, please, I just want to act!” Dickey, 64, said of the many years she spent as a struggling actor in New York and Los Angeles.

It took her years to land an agent because she didn’t fit the “standards for great beauties,” as she said. She never stopped auditioning, though, and held out hope that she would land a great role, even as she drove delivery trucks full of tofu sandwiches and balloons.

That perseverance led to a big break from Sean Penn in the 2001 thriller “The Pledge,” a recurring role as Patty the Daytime Hooker in the NBC comedy “My Name Is Earl” and small but memorable roles in major shows like “True Blood” and “Breaking Bad.” In 2011, she won a Spirit Award for her supporting role in the Debra Granik film “Winter’s Bone.”

With nearly 150 acting credits to her name, it’s hard to believe that her “Widow’s Bay” character, Rosemary, is the first series-regular role of Dickey’s career. “Widow’s Bay” is nominated for 19 Emmys, including a nod for best comedy and another for Matthew Rhys, who plays the lead role of Rosemary’s boss, Tom Loftis, the town mayor who is constantly irritated by Rosemary’s cigarette smoke and her inability to deliver information without including some (often hilarious) bit of gossip.

In an email, Rhys said that Dickey “never missteps.”

“She’ll consistently throw good your way,” he continued. “The hardest part is not laughing.”

The show’s creator, Katie Dippold (“Parks and Recreation”), said she knew she had found Rosemary the second she saw Dickey’s audition tape, which was a scene in which she tells Tom about a sea hag.

“She was constantly making the crew break on set,” Dippold said. “The more desperate Matthew was to get the information he needed from Rosemary in a scene, the more Dale just took her time.”

In mid-August, about a month before the Emmys, Dickey talked in a video call about her long journey to Outstanding Supporting Actress in a Comedy nominee. These are edited excerpts from the conversation.

What were you like as a kid growing up in Knoxville, Tenn.?

I was the child who wasn’t going to do the makeup or the lipstick or the curled hair, but my mom supported me either way.

You started acting in local plays as a child in Knoxville, but no one in your family was a performer. What drove you to act at such a young age?

Knoxville had a thriving arts community, and most of us were in ballet classes. The university in Knoxville had a really fine theater program, and my mom took me to all the productions. The first time I was onstage was at the age of 9, and I ended up working a lot there as a kid. Once I got into it, I never wanted to leave. It just sunk into my bones.

You studied theater at the University of Tennessee and headed to New York City after graduating. What were those years like?

I was there for about 11 years, and I struggled. I could not secure an agent. I wasn’t pretty enough or weird enough. I just kept plowing along. I got to know all the casting directors; I went to all the open calls. After moving to Los Angeles from New York, I don’t think I would have kept going if I had not gotten the support from casting directors that I did. Along the way, each job gave me the courage to keep going.

What were your first impressions of Rosemary?

I read the script and thought it was the funniest thing I’d read in forever, and I also saw the elements of the scare coming in. Rosemary is a very grounded person, and those are the roles I love. Over the years I’ve grown into playing what one agent used to call “crusty roles,” meaning tough, sarcastic curmudgeons, and they always smoke.

I love that Matthew’s character is always so exasperated by Rosemary. It’s hilarious.

It’s such fun to annoy Matthew.

In an email, he said: “No one can do a screen cough like her.” I never thought a smoker’s cough could be such a source of humor. Did you practice it?

The cough was part of my audition, because she’s coughing throughout everything. It’s sort of her bit. I know a smoker’s hack and how to make it comic. Nobody wants to show too much smoking onscreen, so we try to make it where every time Loftis comes in, she’s putting a cigarette out. The coughing is great fun.

We don’t know much about Rosemary’s life outside the office. Did you or the writers come up with any sort of back story for her?

We talked about the fact that Rosemary has had a lot of odd jobs, sort of like Dale did. She probably owns a few rental properties on the island, and she hangs out at the bar a lot. Maybe she’s been engaged a few times, but it wasn’t going to work out, so she’s a free spirit.

Is there anything about shooting Rosemary’s genealogy monologue that might surprise people? You’ve said it was 11 pages of dialogue, right?

I exaggerated. I went back and counted the pages. It was nine. There were two parts of the preparation. One was learning the words. I knew if I had them backwards and forwards, I’d be OK. But then I’m adding 10 slides with family trees on them. The prop people were great. They sent me home with the slides a few days before. But then we realized that with an audiovisual machine, everything is upside down. We thought it might be impossible to film, but they figured out a way to cheat it.

Look, I am the most wrinkled woman in Hollywood. I wear my wonderfully weathered face proudly. What I didn’t realize until I watched the episode was the lighting. I’d forgotten about the lighting with audiovisual equipment and how bad it is for anybody. But on this face? That was a shock. But then I realized Rosemary doesn’t give a [expletive], so it was fun.

You told Vanity Fair, “Botox is not for me.” How have you managed to stave off the pressure when it comes to erasing lines and wrinkles and so-called imperfections?

One of the best compliments was when one girl said to me, “Thank you for making me believe that I don’t have to be a Barbie doll to be an actor.” I learned to accept this crazy face a long time ago. I’m attractive in my own way, but not at the standards for great beauties. I’m proud that I’ve stuck with that and let my vanity go. I get wonderful roles.

And now that Knoxville kid who refused to curl her hair and put on lipstick is going to the Emmys.

My nomination was so completely unexpected. It makes me feel good that my peers thought, Hey, she’s been doing this a long time — why don’t we throw her a bone? I am doing the glam. I have stylists. My mother is smiling down that I’ll be wearing beautiful things.