Then a few days later, they’d post a list in the hallway of the dance studio. You’d scurry up and search for your name. And that’s how you’d find out if you got a fantastic part in the show—like Queen of the Flowers—or a less-desirable part—like Background Rat Number Seven.
I absolutely hated the audition process. To me, it always felt awkward and stressful, and it twisted my stomach into knots. It was kind of like a job interview—except instead of having a private conversation in an air-conditioned office with one hiring manager, you’re having your “interview” in a brightly lit mirrored studio, wearing a tiny leotard, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with forty other people who all want the same job as you.
Yikes.
I’ve always had the utmost respect for professional dancers, actors, and athletes—people who have to do auditions and tryouts over and over and over. Sometimes, multiple times a week, or even multiple times a day. I’ve always wondered, “Good Lord. How do they do that?” It must feel stressful and exhausting every single time…right?
As I learned from the next storyteller, Niki Driscoll…that’s not necessarily the case.
As she explained to me, auditioning doesn’t have to be an exhausting, demoralizing process. Auditioning can actually be really exciting, empowering, and fun—even if you don’t get selected. You can leave any audition—or job interview—feeling proud of yourself. You can walk away feeling like, “I’ve already won.” Even if you don’t get hired.
How on earth is that possible? Well, I’ll let her tell you…
* * *
Niki: My mother badgered me into joining the pep squad in the fifth grade.
This wasn’t a high-pressure situation. There were no tryouts. Anyone who wanted to participate was welcome to join the squad. Even so, I was paralyzed with anxiety. I was afraid of looking stupid, being perceived as ugly, messing up a dance routine, and being whispered about behind my back. During each pep rally, my movements were timid and I only mouthed the words—no sound actually emerged. Peppy? Not exactly. Yet—despite my timidity—a big part of me loved performing in front of an audience. I had caught the “cheerleader fever.” I yearned for a chance to do it again.
Years later, I tried out for the cheerleading squad at my high school. I didn’t get selected. I tried to make the squad multiple times. No success. I’d replay the tryouts in my mind, over and over, tormented with humiliation.
Eventually, I stopped trying to be a cheerleader. I joined the running team instead. Turns out, I was good at it. With cross-country running, I could shed my insecurities. Each competition literally allowed me to disappear into the woods.
While I excelled at running, the yearning to dance, cheer, and perform never left me. Some people are just born to cheer! At various points in my life, complete strangers have asked me, “Are you a cheerleader?” The question always created a regret-filled lump in my throat because in high school and college, I was never given the chance.
My desire to perform did not dissipate with age—it only grew stronger. Except there aren’t a ton of opportunities for a thirty-year-old woman with a full-time job and two kids to twirl onto a football field and shake her pom-poms in the air.
Maybe the opportunity was long gone.
Maybe I’d never get to realize my dream.
Maybe…
But some part of me just couldn’t accept that.
At age thirty, I decided to train for a bikini competition, a type of bodybuilding where you are judged based on your physique, particularly muscle symmetry, as well as your stage presence and personality. In some ways, it’s like cheerleading, but without the leaping and cartwheels.
After months of training and preparation, the big competition arrived. I stepped onstage, baking under the bright spotlights. The music played. I struck my first pose. I vowed to stay centered, channeling positivity and enthusiasm.
It wasn’t easy. The judges were…very judge-y. They all wore looks on their faces that made you feel like a product of obvious self-delusion—like you didn’t belong there. I tuned them out and kept telling myself to embody the energy of the feminine, the divine, and pure joy. Silently, inside my mind, as I moved from pose to pose, I repeated over and over to myself, “I am feminine. Divine. Pure joy.”
And you know what? I rocked my first competition, placing in the top five against women a decade younger than me. It gave me a surge of confidence. I promised myself that I would keep pursuing opportunities to perform.
I kept that promise.
A few years after my first bikini competition, a friend and former NFL team member suggested that I try out for the Saintsations—the official cheerleading squad for the New Orleans Saints.
It was just two weeks before tryouts. I had already missed both preparatory workshops, and the rest of the contestants had been practicing for six weeks. It was a total long shot because I was woefully under-prepared. But I wanted to put myself out there anyway—to test my emotional control.
Would I be able to maintain a smile on my face, enjoy performing, and genuinely have fun—even if I felt completely out of my league? It was sure to be an interesting challenge.
My rules were simple:
1 No comparing myself with the other women.
2 If I forgot a portion of the choreography, I had to maintain my confident, upbeat energy and move on immediately without pausing.
3 No self-berating. I will be kind to myself.
I followed those rules—and my Saintsations audition was one of the best performances of my life. I messed up a couple of times, but I maintained my poise and had a ridiculous amount of fun.
In the end, I was not chosen to join the Saintsations, but I did make it through the first round of cuts, and I was the happiest girl on the planet—floating on air, so proud of myself. I brought joy and excitement into the audition and it showed.
I’ve learned that when I’m facing a critical panel of judges, the best thing to do is to ignore their stern facial expressions and to focus on the persona I want to project into the room. By repeating a phrase like “I am feminine. Divine. Pure joy.” inside of my mind, I can step into that role and express those qualities with every cell in my body. It’s like “acting,” except the difference is that I’ve trained myself to believe it’s true.
I’ve also learned that it is very powerful to set your own personal rules for competitions or any other situation where you’re being judged or critiqued. This feels so amazing, because it puts the power back in your hands. Rather than relying on the judges’ decision to feel validated, you can validate yourself.
If your rules are…
1 I’m here to have fun.
2 I’m not going to berate myself.
3 I’m going to fill the room with positive energy.
…and you succeed in following those rules, then you’ve already won.
* * *
