Audition season is over.
Onto training season.
Trying to finish up winter sewing projects
so I can close up shop for the summer,
in a manner of speaking.
And then...an audition notice pops up...
- one of my fave musicals of all time
- one of the first shows hubby and I saw as a couple
- one of my audition go-to books for new material
There are only two characters in the musical: a man, and a woman.
You can guess their relationship.
The man is cast.
But the woman is not!
The show is in June.
This is very late in the season for her not to be cast.
This is the kind of last-minute clean up job I am best at.
AND this is a DREAM role for me.
SO I'M FREAKING OUT OF COURSE.
I didn't KNOW I was freaking out, until I started to get distracted on the phone with hubby...called twice to confirm an appointment time...started bringing the book around with me everywhere to mine it for the perfect two minutes of music for the audition...and singing my face off at every quiet moment of the day. [think of the children; those poor, poor children.]
As I was singing through every minute of the show,
looking for that perfect two minutes that I:
- could relate to as a person
- could portray as an actress
- could sing easily when nervous
- could read young in a small audition room
- could do all that and still show my vocal range
- could do all that and show I know this show and will be extremely dedicated to it,
The story is about an actress [duh] who is struggling with her identity as she starts a relationship with a man who becomes a famous author. His world takes over hers, and she does not want to be:
"the girl, stuck at home in the burbs, with the baby, the dog, and a garden of herbs..."
So of course, I start to cry.
And want to immediately drop the children off at my husband's office and drive directly to NYC and stalk a couple of agents who would see me.
But, I love my life.
I would not trade my family for anything.
But the show, and those words, are still me. A large part of me then, in 2002, when hubby and I got tickets to it in the early days of our relationship. It signaled a piece of art we could agree upon: contemporary music, a unique direction and storyline, something new, but still good old, musical theatre. And the words are still a small part of me now.
That run-away-and-go-on-tour part of me does not seem to go away.
Usually a day or two - even a girls' night out - will quiet it for a few months.
But the beast must be fed.
AND I MUST. GET THAT PART.
[audition is next Tuesday night.]