"I Hope I Get It..."

If you know musical theater, you know the opening number in A Chorus Line, including its zinger of a lyric that rings true across the arts: "I've come this far, but even so/it could be yes, it could be no."

Yesterday, I auditioned for a community theater production of Merrily We Roll Along. As a lifelong Broadway aficionado and a zealous fan of Stephen Sondheim, I prepared for weeks (months, really, if you count all the times I've sung along with the soundtrack), but I still felt nervous when my turn came.

Why do our nerves have such power? After all, I've performed at this theater before. It's home to a welcoming group of people. And I've been in other musicals. I've auditioned many times. But there's a vulnerability that comes with singing in front of strangers who are making decisions about you. The doubts creep in. Why did I think I could go after a lead role? Why didn't I rehearse with more expression? Why did my voice just crack? Should I smile? Look at them? Ask to start over? It's a chorus of uncertainty.

Much of the same can be said about being on submission as an author. Talk about vulnerability! Sending your years-long manuscript to an editor, letting go of control, and hoping you've done all you can do. But what if too many pesky typos made it through? What if you didn't raise the stakes enough for your characters? What if it wasn't ready for editors' eyes yet? What if your voice cracks? (Spoiler alert, in case it wasn't clear: my voice did crack during the audition. UGH.)

The thing is, art requires us to put ourselves out there. To accept vulnerability. To find the beauty in trying our best, knowing that our best is sometimes shakier than we'd like (thanks, nerves!). How courageous, really, to decide to try. To find ways to grow from every note, redirection, and edit.

I don't know if I'll get cast in this show, and I don't know if I'll land a book deal. But you know what? Art matters. Every bit of it: writing, acting, dancing, making music, creating visual art. It's essential. I'm proud to pursue it and to get to learn along the way.

Keep being courageous. Keep trying. Your voice might crack. A typo might slip through. And that's okay. That's human, and that's what art is all about it, isn't it? Showing us all what it means to be human.

Backstage in college in 2006!