Before the Room

There's a small window, maybe twenty minutes, between arriving at an audition and walking into the room. I used to spend it stretching. Now I spend it almost entirely on something else.

The walk-in

I get there an hour early. I never sign in early. The first half hour belongs to me, in a coffee shop nearby, with my notebook open and a tea I'm not drinking. I write three lines: what I trained this week, what I want to feel in the room, what I will not let derail me.

The hardest part of an audition isn't the dancing. It's the waiting that comes before it.

The body, last

The body gets warmed up last, on purpose. If I warm up too early, the energy goes flat in the holding room. I save the heat for the hallway — short bursts, slow exhales, a single roll-down that reminds me my spine still works.

By the time I sign in, I'm not nervous. I'm in the work.