Wednesday, March 27, 2013

Officially a Mother

Having auditioned for Listen to Your Mother - NW Arkansas last year I felt like an old pro when I got the wonderful call to audition for Listen to Your Mother - OKC. It didn't hurt that my good friend, Heather, was a producer (and no, we being friends did not guarantee me a spot, nor would I want it to). I read through my piece a dozen or so times, tweaking here and there, feeling very well prepared for the audition.

On audition day I picked up my friend, Barbara, who was also auditioning and she admitted she was super nervous. I waved her off, "It'll be fine," I said. "It's very informal, just look at Heather and read to her." We continued our chit chat all the way to Oklahoma City.

After missing my exit, three times (Thank you, Fran, my GPS for getting me back on track, sorry I wasn't listening the first time) we arrived at the audition spot exactly one hour early. Ok yes, Fran told me it was only 2 1/2 hours, even Mapquest confirmed her timeline, but we left early because that's how I roll. I'd rather be sitting there for an hour, than be late.

Barb and I rushed to the bathroom. We were getting headshots, there was hair brushing, teeth checking and clothes fidgeting to be done. That's when the nerves started, but I was still okay. I joked around with the photographer about wearing the same shirt for everything (and I do). Then went into the lobby and joked with Heather's daughter and talked about my love of Girl Scout cookies.

Then I went back to bathroom to recheck my teeth for cookie crumbs... seriously, I love Girl Scout cookies.

Soon, Barb finished and it was my turn. I smiled, put my shoulders back (just like my Grandma always told me) and walked toward the room with confidence, only to have that confidence bounce right off the door jam. Taking a deep breath I remembered the year before when I didn't make the cut, it stung, okay it more than stung, it really sucked, but I was okay (I may have pouted for a week or so, but still, I was okay). The same would be true if I didn't make it this year. It would sting (and I would pout), but I would be okay.

I started reading, the panel laughed when they should've and at the end they had tears in their eyes. Tears! I had made them cry! The greatest accomplishment for a writer is when they evoke emotion in the reader, or in this case the listener. That meant more to me than they probably know. I knew right there I had done my best and had absolutely nothing to be ashamed of, even if I didn't make it.... but I DID!