Regardless of how you do in the actual room, the worst part of an audition is the 24 hours preceding it.

I am going in again for Mamma Mia on Tuesday.  It is Monday as I write this.  I have never blogged about an audition before the actual audition takes place.  I consider it bad luck to talk about auditions before they happen.  Most actors do.  However, I’m not exactly having terrific luck on the auditions I don’t talk about, so what the hell.  I’ll tempt fate, as it has determined to fuck with me regardless.

This is the third time I will have gone in for Mamma Mia.  The first was in 2006, the second was earlier the tour earlier this year.  Tomorrow’s audition is for an immediate replacement on Broadway.  If I get it, my life will change on Monday.  It’s incredible pressure to live under.  I’ve dreamed about being on a Broadway stage my entire life.  So, after tomorrow all of my dreams could come true.  Or not.

This is not the first time I’ve dealt with this situation, and it should be getting easier, but it doesn’t.  I have been going about my week as usual, except that I’ve been making sure I get into dance class so I won’t look like an uncoordinated klutz should I be lucky enough to stay and dance.  In fact, I’ve signed up for a work/study position at Mark Morris Dance Group down the street.  One four-hour shift per week, and after 15 hours worked, I get a free 10-class card.  They have ballet, tap, modern, Pilates, yoga– even salsa dancing for couples.  I’ve already threatened/tempted the husband with the prospect of taking salsa.  I have committed to helping out more at Shop Gotham as we approach our busy season, and as my boss tries to launch our fabulous men’s shopping tour.  I’ve kept up my novel-writing, although I am somewhat behind.  I baked cookies.  I worked on the audition material, then put it away and did my damndest not to think about it.

But the dream is there in the back of my mind, inserting itself into moments when I am caught unawares.   As I throw clothes into the hamper, I suddenly think, “Who will I call first if I get it?”  If I walk by a nice restaurant, I think, “Maybe we can go there to celebrate if I get it.”  I tell myself to knock it off.  I focus on the other phrase that has been banging around in my head all week:  “Thank you.  That’s all that we need.”

I pray to God that I won’t hear that.

I am preparing myself for heartbreak.  I know I ought to be preparing myself for victory.  We have to think positive, right?  And all our dreams will come true.  But so often I have prepared myself for victory:  “I can do this!  I know I am perfect for this!  I have nothing to fear!” But I have been let down so often that I just can’t stand the disappointment anymore.

So tomorrow I will sleep in, letting myself get as much rest as I need.  I will make myself a healthy breakfast full of protein.  I will do yoga and attempt to meditate.  I’ll focus on loving myself in spite of my accomplishments and on harboring pride in the work that I’ve done.  And I’ll pray to God to take it all out of my hands.   I’ll say, “God, I know that in Your power all things are possible.  And I know that you have not brought me this far to drop me on my ass.”

And if you’re reading this, and it’s Tuesday, send me good thoughts.