You think your kid is talented (what parent doesn’t, right?).  Maybe talented enough to make a career out of this music or theater thing.  But those careers are pretty unstable, aren’t they?  There must be a million actors waiting tables hoping for their big break and musicians working ‘day’ jobs so they can play with their band at night.  But maybe, just maybe--your kid could be the one to make it.  So you agree (maybe reluctantly) to look at college music and theater programs.

I’m a flutist and college music professor with over 30 years of teaching and playing experience.  In 2017, my older daughter decided to take auditions for collegiate musical theater programs.  While I am very familiar with how auditions work for music programs, adding theater to the mix brought new challenges.  I started reading as much information as I could.  I had several panicky moments--what if she had never taken tap dance lessons?  What about acting camp?  Should she ignore her school theater program for other opportunities in the community? 

I am honored anytime I get to perform up on stage in any capacity, and I promise you, there is nothing embarrassing or disappointing in receiving an incredibly powerful "smaller role. 

A role is not measured in the number of lines or lyrics or minutes on stage, but rather by the amount of heart a performer puts into their role. 

A year ago I decided to put acting on hold. I told people I was tired of trying to fight my way into Equity auditions, tired of working for free and needed a breather to focus on playwrighting. All these things were true, but the biggest, truest (and most embarrassing) thing was that I’d suddenly and unexpectedly developed debilitating stage fright. 

I recently finished a show in my community theatre and have been feeling the post-show-depression really bad. My dad asked me the other day why it was such a big deal - "You're going to see those people again, and you have auditions for your next show in less than a month."

Now that we are towards the conclusion of the audition season for Musical Theatre and Acting BFA programs, I know that everyone involved may be a little stressed out. However, it's never to early to turn attention to the Juniors who are preparing for this process next year. As an audition coach, let me offer some observations to both students auditioning and faculty members who are adjudicating auditions next year. Hopefully, my observations will make the process a little less stressful.

The unknown can be daunting, but it can also be fantastically fun and thrilling. Let's be honest: improv is certainly a risky endeavor – especially for the introverts out there. It not only involves a wide-eyed expectant audience anticipating a funny scene; it involves no rehearsal, little time to think, and ultimately a whole lot of unpredictable.

A few months ago, I was working on the set building crew, fussing over a detail when someone came up to me and said, “It’s good enough; it’s just community theatre; it doesn’t matter.”

I wanted to scream in frustration and throttle the individual, but I liked him so I said with a calm that belied my feelings, “Of course it matters. Just because it’s community theatre doesn’t mean I should do less than my best.” He grumbled an “I suppose you’re right” and thankfully left me alone to my fussing. 

Dearest Theatre Lovely,

Hello. Everything is gonna be okay.

We all know how hard it is to make a living with theatre. You might be having a hard time today coping with that. If not you’ve probably had at least one moment in the past where you’ve wondered if you’re cut out for life in theatre. Maybe you work backstage or onstage. Either way, things are gonna be fine. 

I’ve been living in New York City for about a year and a half now, as of this article. Since moving here soon after college, I’ve had the chance to have my own plays produced in various festivals, as well as the chance to go see plenty of shows on Broadway, Off-Broadway, and loads of indie productions throughout the city. Yet it hasn’t always felt easy, and when you get here, you realize that it’s not always as glamorous of a life, as it might sound.

It’s the end of winter. You can’t think of anything more satisfying than sitting at home in your pajamas with the fire on and a steaming mug of chocolate in hand. But...you’ve got a rehearsal. You dread leaving the house and braving the storm, de-icing the car and attempting to carry all of your props and costumes without risking injury. Then you arrive at the venue, begin your craft and forget all about the world outside.