It was my friend Miss Strong's Broadway debut. And she was wonderful -- it was thrilling to watch.
After the show, I went backstage to see her. She was sitting in the dressing room she shared with another principal. After hugs and updates, Miss Strong asked how my auditioning was going. After a few tales of woe, she gave me a very valuable piece of advice.
"You just can't care," she said while applying cold cream and adjusting her seafoam-silk bathrobe. "Have dinner with friends, have this fabulous life, then go into the audition like it's no big deal.
"You know the saying: 'Get a boyfriend, redecorate your apartment so it's perfect, find a great survival job... And the next day you'll get a national tour.'"
In Miss Strong's universe, we should respond to boys we hope will call, taxis we wish would come, and shows we desperately want to get the same way: With indifference.
"But how do you pretend you don't care about a Broadway show?" Photochic asked me the next day, as a few of us walked to the post office with a stack of submissions.
"I don't know," I said. "But what she said is so true. Every time I get cast, it's always something I'm not really interested in -- like some weird revival my agent got me an appointment for, or something at the Equity building that I do to kill time while waiting for the audition that actually matters to me."
Later, while browsing through sheet music at the Colony, the topic continued with the larger group.
"But then, you can't not prepare for a huge audition just because you want it too much," SoapStud thought aloud. "If you go in totally disorganized, you'll regret it and be mad at yourself later.�
"But if you bust your ass getting ready and then nothing happens, you feel like maybe you were way too eager," added Photochic.
"Yeah, then you wonder if maybe you should have gone to the movies with that guy the night before instead of staying home watching bootlegs of rehearsal on Broadway.com trying to see if you could figure out the dance call choreography ahead of time," I said.
"Let's just face it: The minute you admit to yourself you want the job, you're screwed. No matter what you do -- or don't do -- to prepare," said PopWhiz.
"If animals can smell fear, then casting directors can smell desire -- and it's not sexy," added Photochic.
"So, we just have to reverse our feelings. Pretend that getting the job is the equivalent of a violently invasive medical procedure, like a rectal exam. And not getting it is like..." PopWhiz struggled for the right words.
"Like chocolate?" Trustfunded suggested.
"Sex?" said SoapStud.
"Simply figure whatever you consider to be the complete opposite of a rectal exam, and go from there," Photochic said, smiling wryly.
"That sounds about right."
"You know what though?" I thought aloud, as we left. "Miss Strong wasn't talking about not caring. I mean she may have said that, but I don't think that's what she meant. I think maybe you just have to care about a lot of other things too."
"Yeah, it's like the whole 'Don't-put-all-your-eggs-in-one-basket' thing," SoapStud agreed.
"Or 'A watched pot never boils,'" added Photochic.
"Or 'the early bird gets the worm,'" declared Trustfunded triumphantly.
"Actually that one doesn't really apply." SoapStud said, patting her lightly.
"Well anyway... Miss Strong just meant you have to have a life -- and a life that's so great that if you don't get one silly little show, it simply doesn't matter."
"Yeah, if your life is auditions and nothing else, it's gonna suck," PopWhiz pointed out.
"But if your life is your photography studio..." Photochic thought.
"And your writing career..." Trustfunded nudged me.
"And running the marathon..." added SoapStud.
"Exactly," said PopWhiz. "If your life is all those things, then auditions are just something you do. Then you're out the door, back to your life."
"Your fabulous life," Photochic added.
"And you never know..." Trustfunded perked up as we waited at 14th Street, realizing that what had looked like a gorgeous day was also a cold one. "Maybe the saying is true: 'Things really do happen the minute you stop thinking about them.'"
"In that case, can we all stop wishing the crosstown bus would come?" SoapStud asked. "It may be the first day of spring, but I'm freezing my ass off."