Stiff Muscles and Bad Nerves

It’s like exercising a muscle after a sprain.  Everything is tight.  You don’t move the way you did before.  You have to think about things that previously were unconscious.

 

I don’t know what possessed me to decide to audition for the playwright’s festival.  Maybe the rekindled desire to immerse myself in theater.  Perhaps a renewed sense of purpose.  Most definitely in part because the actors will be paid.

 

The process of preparing for an audition has been harder than I remember.  Finding the right monologue, learning it, practicing it, perfecting it.  Worrying about whether you have any talent.  Wondering what the hell you are doing.

 

I picked a comic piece.  I’ve practiced by myself, in front of the mirror and in front of the Fiend.  I’ve even subjected some folks at work to it.  No amount of practicing is lessening the feeling that I must be crazy to think I can do this.

 

I remember a time when auditions didn’t have such a profound effect on me.  I would always be a bit nervous.  But when I’m practicing now I’m vaguely nauseous.

 

In all fairness it has been a long time since I’ve auditioned for anything in this way.  I know I will be up against folks who audition as easily as they breathe.  I have a sneaking suspicion it will feel a bit like a firing line for me.

 

I may not get a part.  I may.  I think right now that doesn’t matter.  The largest part for me is doing it.  Exercising the stiff muscle which has not been used for so long. Working through my own fears of failure and embarrassment.  Remembering why I love this and trying my best.