I just read the news that back home Miss Saigon is going to hit the road again. It first played theatres fifteen years ago, I was ten. Looking the way I look and doing the thing I was interested in at the time (being on stage, not prostitution), people commented I looked like the girl who played the lead Kim. I took it with a bag of salt as these were the people who kept seeing my Dad at the Chinese on the corner. Marvellous places, small towns.
Still, here we are years later and I have a theatre degree (and don’t we know it, Lord almighty all the opportunities Higher Education has given me.) and a little of performance experience. I have the address to send my CV to, should I wish to audition.
This morning I had an interview in which I had to explain why I moved from theatre to writing. I could have said something like, well there is no money in the arts (true) but something more terribly truthful spilled past the nerves: I was never a great actress, saved by but I am a great writer. The point is not whether I was great or not: I was not confident as an actress. I enjoyed performing yes, but I hate(d) auditions: I got very nervous and I might as well have walked in with DONT HIRE ME stamped on my forehead. In the year I had given myself to ‘do it’, my confidence reached Arctic temperatures.
But hooray 2011: I feel happy now and I am staring at this article about the audition for the one musical that will at the very least fit my face and… nothing else. Six years have changed a lot: I no longer have the desire – one could argue I never had – to go up to a panel of people to sing 8 bars, smile and hope for the best. It is not what I do best, there are other ways to showcase the talents with which I was blessed. (Just one bottle of wine and I’ll show you… )
So it is time to finally close that door and start looking for that illusive window, but as always… let’s keep the key safe.