I made the callback. It was a moment of triumph, but I knew the war wasn't won yet.
I soared into the audition room, sat on the floor near the wall (which I'm fond of doing for some reason between spotlights) and eyed the competition.
"That's the competition," I whispered to Mariko, my ever patient friend and audition transportation. I was indicating a small group of ladies who all looked the part. I can take them, I thought, sizing them up.
The directors auditioned the kids first, having them sing a song from the show, then cold read a scene. Once the kids were done, they were allowed to leave and the adults got a crack at it. When they finally called up everyone trying for Nancy, the nerves came back full force as I watched an even larger number of women than I suspected rise and go up front.
The music director handed us He Needs Me, the belting number Nancy performs on an empty stage during the show. It was the musical equivalent of going straight for the throat.
One at a time we stepped up center stage and sang. The women in front of me sounded amazing in a way I knew I wasn't equal to. The familiar sensations rushed through my veins and once again, I botched the first note. Only this time, I didn't recover.
The other ladies were nice, complimenting my singing, but I knew there was no way the music director was going to give me another glance. I was, however, confident that while I didn't out sing the others, I could out read them.
Some directors are looking for a voice. "You can sing?" they say. "Great, we'll work with your acting," whatever it is. Others are looking for an actress and it works the other way: "You can act! We'll work with your voice." Maybe, just maybe, the director would pause to consider after I'd read.
So I sat down and waited to read Nancy.
Mariko and I waited till the end of the night, with all the other Nancy hopefuls, but the call never came. It seems they were looking for the voice and only the voice.
The call came, and I was invited to sing in the chorus. Despite the first triumph, I was crushed by the succeeding failure. I considered once again just saying no thanks and auditioning for a show that didn't require singing-- in hopes of a larger part, something impressive for the resume. That consideration didn't last long. If I was going to kick back at the music that has been kicking my butt for years, the chorus was the way to begin.
And so I accepted. Rehearsals are in full force, complete with music rehearsals in which I feel like a foreigner among natives, but it's the best way to learn.
The woman who won the part I wanted sounds amazing. Her voice just falls out onto the stage in waves and sounds beautiful-- not to mention on pitch. And she's not just a voice. From the little I've seen so far, she's the whole package and will be an amazing Nancy. I do feel little twinge every time she takes the stage in rehearsals, but it serves as a reminder of what I'm working toward.
One of these days she'll see me at an audition and whisper to her friend, "that's the competition."
I hope it makes her nervous.
I soared into the audition room, sat on the floor near the wall (which I'm fond of doing for some reason between spotlights) and eyed the competition.
"That's the competition," I whispered to Mariko, my ever patient friend and audition transportation. I was indicating a small group of ladies who all looked the part. I can take them, I thought, sizing them up.
The directors auditioned the kids first, having them sing a song from the show, then cold read a scene. Once the kids were done, they were allowed to leave and the adults got a crack at it. When they finally called up everyone trying for Nancy, the nerves came back full force as I watched an even larger number of women than I suspected rise and go up front.
The music director handed us He Needs Me, the belting number Nancy performs on an empty stage during the show. It was the musical equivalent of going straight for the throat.
One at a time we stepped up center stage and sang. The women in front of me sounded amazing in a way I knew I wasn't equal to. The familiar sensations rushed through my veins and once again, I botched the first note. Only this time, I didn't recover.
The other ladies were nice, complimenting my singing, but I knew there was no way the music director was going to give me another glance. I was, however, confident that while I didn't out sing the others, I could out read them.
Some directors are looking for a voice. "You can sing?" they say. "Great, we'll work with your acting," whatever it is. Others are looking for an actress and it works the other way: "You can act! We'll work with your voice." Maybe, just maybe, the director would pause to consider after I'd read.
So I sat down and waited to read Nancy.
Mariko and I waited till the end of the night, with all the other Nancy hopefuls, but the call never came. It seems they were looking for the voice and only the voice.
The call came, and I was invited to sing in the chorus. Despite the first triumph, I was crushed by the succeeding failure. I considered once again just saying no thanks and auditioning for a show that didn't require singing-- in hopes of a larger part, something impressive for the resume. That consideration didn't last long. If I was going to kick back at the music that has been kicking my butt for years, the chorus was the way to begin.
And so I accepted. Rehearsals are in full force, complete with music rehearsals in which I feel like a foreigner among natives, but it's the best way to learn.
The woman who won the part I wanted sounds amazing. Her voice just falls out onto the stage in waves and sounds beautiful-- not to mention on pitch. And she's not just a voice. From the little I've seen so far, she's the whole package and will be an amazing Nancy. I do feel little twinge every time she takes the stage in rehearsals, but it serves as a reminder of what I'm working toward.
One of these days she'll see me at an audition and whisper to her friend, "that's the competition."
I hope it makes her nervous.