I’m not sure how long I stood at the podium, breathing. Waiting for the courage to open my mouth.
I wasn’t really nervous until I got to the venue for the audition on that bright, sunny Sunday morning. But that was when it became real.
I’m a writer who likes to share, as you can see by my accosting you on Facebook and Twitter with links to my latest posts or other places I’ve been featured.
But I’m also a writer who likes to hide back here behind my computer. If you don’t like my piece, you click away, and I hopefully never have to know.
But this time I had to step out of my comfort zone. I chose to share a part of me with two ladies in hopes that I would get a chance to share it with an audience one hundred times that.
I breathed. And I started reading. I started reading from the place where my piece originated: deep in my heart, from a place I hadn’t reached down into in a long time. I felt it. I owned it.
I tried not to shake. I prayed I wouldn’t vomit.
And when it was over, I was light as a feather. Even if I didn’t make it past this audition, I had told a story that needed to be told. Even if it was just to the two women in that room that morning whose job it was to make notes, compare me to others, and decide if my work was worthy.
And they did.
I’m honored and to be included in the 2012 Austin cast of Listen to Your Mother, a national series of live readings by local writers in celebration of Mother’s Day. So now instead of reading it to just 2 people, I will read it in front of 200 and share the stage with 14 other amazing women.
I can’t wait. Of course, they may want to provide a bucket for me to get sick in.
My genuine thanks go out to my biggest fans who always knew I would get chosen:
My readers for continuing to come here and let me know that you like what I have to say.
Leighann for being my bloggy bestie and always giving her heartfelt encouragement.
Huge thanks to Christian, who has always given his enduring support for this thing that takes up so much of my time, yet provides minimal financial reward. I’m lucky to have someone who stands by me through thick and thin.
An my most heartfelt and teary eyed thanks go out to Alex. Alex was kind enough to take time out of her schedule read my work. She pushed me as a writer like I don’t think I have ever been pushed. She encouraged me to stay the course, dig deep, and unearth feelings I had long since forgotten — to own it. She believed in me and my story. I’m not sure which made me more teary eyed: seeing that I got into the show or her telling me that my piece was ready to submit. An although the writing is mine, I feel like I owe her half the byline for her support and encouragement.
I’ll see you on the stage.