So I did it. And lived. And actually did pretty well.
So the question becomes, what do I do if I get a part? 🙂
Tag Archives: Fear
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.
In the Dark Hours
In the dark hours our demons come home to roost.
The woman stalked about the house like a ghost, trying to stay quiet enough not to stir the sleeping creatures from their dreams. Pacing, up and down, up and down. Trying to knock something loose in order to slow the spinning of her own wheels.
In these late hours the woman felt powerless to stop the momentum of her ponderings. Her thoughts whirled through her brain like dizzy dancers. Sleep was not a possibility, movement was necessary. So she wandered around in woolen socks, attempting to lull herself into complacency.
The woman’s midnight ambulations caused the timid dog to raise her head with curiosity. She uncurled from her place on the couch and padded to her mistress who was too distracted to notice. The dog nuzzled the woman’s cold hand with her wet nose. Deep brown eyes looked expectantly upward. The woman smiled at the dog and moved to the corner where the winter clothing was hung.
The woman added layers of warmth to her frame and went to the back door. It was a cold, clear fall night. The stars were twinkling brilliance and the moon was a soft smile. The dog followed her out into the backyard and down the hill to the leaf-strewn picnic table. The woman could smell the edge of summer on the table as she laid back on its sturdy wooden top. The dog jumped up beside her and nestled into the curve of her waist.
At first there was the heavy sensation of thoughts like a locomotive out of control. Lost opportunities. Beautiful afternoons. Unintended consequences. Shared tenderness. All blending together into a thick fog. She shook her head, trying to clear it.
The woman closed her eyes and began to breathe deeply, feeling panic creeping into the corners. The air tore at her lungs. She kept breathing and tried to hold the hounds of fear at bay. Her thoughts began to slow until they eventually became discernible from one another once more. She opened her eyes and kept breathing.
The stars shined down. Clouds of crystallized breath formed, dissipated and formed again. The dog radiated warmth. The woman’s internal rhythm of pounding heart slowed to a gentler beat. And in that moment all was still. The woman was at peace.
In the dark hours our demons can be laid to rest, if only for a time.
The Gillman Girl Home for Wayward Creatures and Unwanted Things 