That was my mantra and that’s what I would repeat over and over until it was my turn. It was all a matter of showing these people what I was capable of. This was the place I’d gotten myself to mentally when I’d snagged role after role at CCM. As I sipped my vanilla latte, I talked myself through the beats I needed to hit in my monologue from Hatful of Rain and the breathing techniques that would carry my voice to the high note in “Life of the Party,” the song I’d chosen to sing.īy the time I arrived at the rehearsal studio, I’d talked myself into a serene state of mind. I got up early that morning, wanting to take my time and hit Starbucks before my ten a.m. I’d managed to book a hotel room on Priceline located only five blocks from the rehearsal studio where the auditions were taking place. I couldn’t get over the bustling streets and the feeling there was so much going on in such a small radius. New York City in June was crowded and hot and wonderful. I promptly threw away everything in the pile I was sorting through and opened my laptop to see about that plane ticket. An opportunity had fallen into my lap and it was time to jump. Surely, there were questions I should be asking, but I was still all kinds of flustered. “Thanks, I’ll keep my eyes open for it, Mr. I have your e-mail address, and my assistant Debbie is going to send you the details of the call on Wednesday.” “Come with a song, a monologue, and wear comfortable clothes for the dance audition.
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