Go Ahead and Audition...It's Your Soul Calling

It's July. It's a pivotal month for the pageantry activity. Drum Corps is in full swing. Marching band is in its beginning stages and winterguards are setting their budget and signing contracts for rehearsal space. Shows are being performed. Shows are being planned. It's a time of year where many performers are making decisions as to whether they will audition in September for a winterguard or November for a drum corps. It's a tough decision on many levels, because not only is a performer nervous about the outcome, they are also entering into a potential contract that involves time and money. The contract they will potentially sign is a contract that will be paid for in sweat and tears. This is a given. This is a fact. 

Why would anyone in their right minds put themselves through any type of audition? They are fraught with uncertainty, intense competition, and possible embarrassment. Any good audition will require large group work, small group work, and individual show and tell. Strangers called choreographers and technicians will be eyeing you. Fellow performers will be sizing you up. Are you better? Are they better? Do you deserve to be in the same room as them? What is their background? OH NO!! They were a silver medalist at nationals last year!! 

The goal of an audition has many purposes and it's a two way street. The organization, dance company, theater troupe, drum corps, or color guard you are auditioning for is looking to see who is not just the most talented, but who best fits the image of the organization. Who speaks their language? Who fits their mold?

I have had my share of auditions in my lifetime and they are nothing short of hellish. I'm not talking about your regular every day hell, either. Auditioning for a performance troupe is the type of hell that makes you long for a tarantula to crawl on your face and lay eggs in your ears. Drum corps, winter guard, guard captain, drum major, music ensembles, theme park, dance company. I've auditioned for all of them. I've basically screwed most of them up and made a damn fool of myself in the process. In one audition for Opryland (a very popular theme park in Tennessee back in my day), the director asked if anyone had any acrobatic experience. I jumped from the seat I was sitting in and yelled, "Me! I do!" I did, too. He asked for me to show my skills. I set it up. I took a deep breath and started may tumbling pass. Round off, back handspring, double full twist. It would be great. Except...I misjudged the distance and double full twisted off the stage and into the pit. Between that and having to sing an excerpt from a Dolly Pardon song (which was more tragic than the double twist), I didn't get a call back...surprise, surprise. No tarantula in the world could have made me feel better after that audition. I simply just prayed for death. 

When I auditioned for the Star of Indiana, I was a bit older and a bit wiser. I had honed my dance and spinning skills. I really wanted to make it. This wasn't just a fantasy. This was a dream. I wanted to march a top 12 drum corps so bad, that I would have done almost anything to march. There were something like 80 girls for about 30 spots. Dance, equipment, choreography, technique, and interviews filled the weekend. I wanted this so bad I could taste it. I believed in my heart I deserved to be there. I was ready for this. I could handle the pressure. I remember having to do each piece of choreography by myself in front of various staff members. I hated it, because although I could do the routines, I could not always remember them. Remembering choreography was always my downfall. I would later learn that it was because I had Attention Deficit Disorder. I couldn't focus. I remember doing the jazz piece for the staff. I knew the routine like the back of my hand. When my name was called and the music started, my mind shut down. I couldn't remember it. I couldn't remember anything. NOTHING! Not the opening pose, not the ending pose...NOTHING! I held back the tears as they gave me another chance. 

I blew it. It was awful and that was just day one. The weekend went on and I spent my time beating myself up and damning myself to ultimate failure. The more I thought about the failure that I was, the more I screwed up. It was an awful audition. I left the camp in Indiana and drove the 6 hour drive home to wait the ever consummate rejection letter. My entire life hinged on this audition, because it was all I had. I couldn't afford to march any other drum corps. Star was it and if I didn't make it, then I wasn't marching. I don't know why it happened and I don't really care, but all I know is that I received a letter in the mail inviting me for the December call backs. You just never know what fate will bring and everything inside me wanted to give up that November day. If I had given up and listened to my head over my heart, I wouldn't have that amazing corps jacket that today is placed neatly in the box for my child to one day pass down to his children and it wouldn't have a World Champion patch sewn to it.

My favorite and most horrific audition though, was for the 1991 winterguard season of the Pride of Cincinnati. Finally. Finally. Finally. It was my turn to perform with a world class guard. I had this wrapped up. By this time I had added a year of drum corps to my resume'. I knew the director, as he at one point consulted with my high school team. I had this. It wasn't a matter of making the guard, but a matter of making the sabre line. I drove to Cincinnati from Knoxville very early one September Sunday. It's important at this point to set the stage. Remember now, in 1991 there were still age-outs and this was my age out year. There were no GPS devices or smart phones. (This is very important to the story).

Auditions started at 9 a.m.sharp! I left around 4 in the morning, which was plenty of time to get there. I was very excited and very confident. I honestly believed I had this one. The universe I would learn, had other plans for me and a very twisted sense of humor as well. My first error of many was that I was directionally challenged  There was no GPS and this girl couldn't read a map. So...I had to trust the directions that were given to me over the phone; except for one tiny problem. In the process of transcribing the directions, my A.D.D. kicked in and I inverted the numbers of the exit to the rehearsal site from something like "28" to "82." Let's just say that as I drove past Dayton and saw signs for Columbus, I started to think that somehow I might be wrong, since the guard had "Cincinnati" in its name. The next problem was that I was running out of gas. Mom and Dad had given me a Chevron credit card. That was great...in Tennessee. Funny how Chevron wasn't really popular in Ohio at the time. As I drove on fumes, trying to figure out where in the hell to go, I made a stupid choice. I randomly asked a stranger for directions and begged him for gas money. He gave me gas money, for a nice lift back to Cincinnati.  No I wasn't raped and my body wasn't thrown into the Ohio river...it was stupid none the less and really freaky. 

I made it to auditions...two hours late and now completely rattled. I got there just in time for weapon technique, which I totally rocked at. Sometime around lunch we were asked to show a few special skills. In the process of the "special skill" portion of the audition, I hit my head with a rifle. Blood poured out of my head and on to the floor. Holy Mother of God! All I could think was, "What have I done to piss off the winterguard gods today! What?!?!!!" Hospital bound and on my way out of the gym, I clung to the door as the staff drug my blood soaked self out yelling, "PLEASE DON'T CUT ME! I SWEAR I'M NOT SOME SPAZ BASKET CASE! PLEASE OH PLEASE! I'LL DO ANYTHING!! " (This might be a bit of an exaggeration, but it's how I like to remember it)

Having missed most of the day and barely making it back from the emergency room in time for the final announcements, I dragged my embarrassed, bandaged head, defeated soul back to the floor. I blew it. It was over. I had nothing left to give. My age out year and I would never walk down that tunnel of the Dayton arena. When I was interviewed I was asked how I thought my day was going. My response was a simple laugh, with a simple answer, "Are you kidding? It was awful!" Then I asked if I could borrow 20 dollars to get home. 

Surprisingly, I made the guard and I was told by Ping that he liked my never quit attitude. I still think I owe him $20. 

Here's the thing. If it's in your soul you have to audition. Don't worry about your talent level. Don't worry about your failings. Don't worry about the outcome. Some of the most important moments of my life came from auditions and the lessons I learned because of them. Because of learning to audition, I learned how to interview for jobs and outsell the other candidates with barely a thought. I learned how to assert myself at professional conclaves and parties I didn't want to be at. Auditioning in the performing arts gives you strength to know that you can handle just about anything. The fear you overcome is more than most people have to overcome in a lifetime. Chances are, you will at some point question your ability. You will believe you aren't as pretty or thin as the other performers. You will see someone better than you. You will want to leave. You will want to give up. It's important to know though, that one mistake and one weakness doesn't damn you. Any organization worth being a part of will be looking at you in a 360 degree view and they don't expect perfection.

If there is any question in your mind as to whether you should audition for a guard or drum corps next season, then that is the one sign that should tell you that your soul speaking to you and telling you to go for it. You have to audition, because if you don't you will always wonder what the outcome could have been. What's interesting and what you must remember, is that you as the performer really don't know what the organization you are auditioning for needs. You might just have that one thing they are looking for that no one else has. You might have the look or the spark or that one skill. Maybe, just maybe, all you have going for you is a positive attitude and never give up personality. I'll tell you that from a person who has run more auditions than she can count, I'll take the positive, humble attitude over the arrogant, know it all on most any day. I'll teach you the rest. So give it a shot. Go for it. Audition. Screw it up. Fail. Fall on your face. Hit your head with a rifle. Forget the routine. It's all o.k., because if you want it bad enough, the universe will find a way to give it to you. I promise. So go ahead. Your soul is calling.