Little Seams of Big Dreams

Just like that, the show I’ve worked on for 6 months is now over. When I first tried out for the musical Miracle on 34th Street, I had no idea what was ahead of me. I was prepared to play in an amazing ensemble, as I always do, for a stellar show, and just be forever grateful for the inclusion. That is, if I was cast. In fact, for auditions, we have to fill out a form that includes a question asking what part you are trying out for. Some with little knowledge of the show they are auditioning for might answer “any”. In that spot I wrote “townsperson”. I chose a song from a show that is very near and dear to my heart for my audition piece. My voice did not waiver and my diction and projection was on point. So much so, that they asked me to come back the next day for callbacks. I was familiar with this from so many shows I had done in the past. Callbacks for this particular show included dancing. This (and script reading) was the main purpose of being called back. I gladly accepted, although fearful of how I would manage the dancing with the numerous health issues I had been experiencing that year. I remember getting extremely dizzy with all of the turns during the dance portion but trying very hard to hide it. After the dancing, I was handed a photocopy of a few scenes to read. And the part highlighted was Doris Walker.

Doris is THE female character of the show. Even at that time I had no idea how main a role hers was. But a woman sitting next to me looked over and said “nice!”. Enter the nerves. A rise of fear and excitement lifted through me but I told myself to not allow it to un-nerve me. Miraculously it did not take hold. I have always doubted myself for fear of being arrogant or cocky or just plain mean. But at this moment, not only did I not allow it, I forced the confidence to overcome me.

I had to get out of my head all-together and focus on the lines. This woman had gusto. What someone would now refer to as corny or cheesy lines, were the persona of this character and the show in it’s entirety. From an early age I was drawn to watching old black and white movies and this was exactly one of those. The characters may have been over the top, but they oozed manners, poise, and class. Doris, was the epitome of all of these things. At times she was short and rude responding to the men that outnumbered her in world run by them. I wasn’t sure if this was all my own interpretation, but that is what I envisioned, and what I went with. To me, she was strong, independent, and tough as nails.

Having never really acted before, I was always happy to be the shiny observing wallflower. But amazing things came through me at this audition. Though shaking slightly, I presented and projected exactly what I had read in these scenes for “my” Doris. It seemed to be effortless and flow. It felt as she was meant for me to play. I had played one other speaking role in my life. But it had been long before in high school and not even a quarter of the lines, songs, and depth of character that this role called for.

So, I read aloud with one little girl. Then a man. Then two more girls and a distinctive jolly fella who I already saw as an endearing Santa Claus complete with a familiar voice from my childhood. He was perfect. Again, through all of this, I could only focus on my deep breathing, yoga stretches, and staying out of my own head in the down time. I literally stood in another room in my “triangle” just to relax. One little girl interrupted my relaxation techniques asking if it was yoga. Little did I know this little girl, one that I read with, the only one who spoke to me off-stage, would play a pretty important part.

After reading, they asked me to sing once again. I truly assumed that I was there only to give the appearance of a fair fight to someone else. This couldn’t be real. They don’t want me. The music was low. It was so very low. I had only ever sang Soprano, and the highest of those for most of my musical career. They had me singing with one other girl. It was quick and chromatically strange, but extremely interesting. Then, the last to leave, I went home.

I’ve always lived in a world of self-doubt that I created for myself. Which is the very reason I gave up many years ago. On the drive home, I told myself that it was a fantastic experience, and to leave it at just that. One truly, outstandingly, amazing experience. In fact it was so magical for me that it gave me determination. Upon arriving home I immediately messaged a friend claiming, “I will have a lead role someday, I guarantee.”

But I had no idea that someday, would be THAT day.

I called my mother, and then my sister. While talking to my sister, the other line beeped. Call ID said that it was the music director of the theater and I was more than excited to accept a nice small part around the size of my last one.(adult ensemble in a kids show) But then it happened. She said, “We would love if you would be our Doris!”. The adrenaline and tears broke simultaneously. All I could reply with was “seriously?” She followed with, “will you accept?”. Then as oh so true to me, I made some dopey comment similar to, “well, YEAH”.

This was six months ago. From that point I dove in. I spent the next six months researching the show and I did not stop. The second that I received the script, the memorization began. I highlighted and recorded my own voice as the other characters so that I could listen on repeat for-ev-er. I listened and spoke with those recordings every single day until the week of the show’s open. I would not allow them to regret their decision of taking a chance on and choosing me. I did not miss a single rehearsal. I have been so grateful every single day that I was given the chance. It was a risk for them for sure. I virtually had no experience being in the front of the stage. Even though at a young age, Broadway was my dream, my little doubt world told me to not even try. I’d always rather think “what if” than deal with the rejection. I mean, why set yourself up for disappointment. I would sing and dance my ensemble parts and observe the other scenes from backstage. I would awe and envy their courage and talent. I would marvel at and thrive off of the audiences reactions wishing that I would someday get the chance to stir the emotions of a crowded room. But I was never ready. In fact I truly believe that I was meant to experience pain first. Because pain is what I used. Pain is what I thought of in the back of my mind that drove me to experience the emotions of my character. It drove me to prove that despite my physical short-comings and lack of experience that I could do it. And that I could prove others wrong.

I still won’t say that I was “amazing” and the end to all who have ever played that character. That is not, and will never be me. There are things I could have done better. But I learned and experienced so SO much. I never knew I had such a large vocal range for one. Every song for the character was low Alto, one reaching an E3. I loved the people I played alongside and the experience, for many reasons, will never leave my memory. If I never get the chance to stand alone in the spotlight again, I still will have been blessed.