Sixty folks submitted in the St. Louis area, and thirty were asked to come and audition for the live show.
I am one of the lucky folks who will be auditioning.
Next Thursday evening, I'll be reading my story aloud in the hopes that I'm one of the twelve finalists - the ones who will be appearing in two shows on May 11. All proceeds from ticket sales go back into the community to support local charities.
My nervousness about public speaking has lessened over the years; right now, my anxiety level is fluctuating from slight butterflies in the stomach to full-on gut-wrenching. I'm concerned that my voice will quaver or fail me completely.
When I've stressed about it today, I've reminded myself that, thanks to the National Alliance for Mental Illness (NAMI), I have spoken to groups of armed police officers and sheriff's deputies - and did it completely off-the-cuff...and nobody shot me.
How hard can this four minute reading be?
I'm not as shy as I used to be (go ahead, laugh - I was shy). I can read aloud - I do it regularly at our writers' group meetings. And I'll be in my comfort level, as I'll be telling MY story. My words. My life. The Mister can attest to the fact that I can - and do - speak with abandon (while he's wishing I wasn't so wordy).
I know at least two of the other writers who were chosen to audition, and I wish them well (Linda and one gal who wishes to remain unidentified at this time). Actually, I hope all thirty of us do so well that they have to turn the St. Louis show into a marathon because each one of us has something important to say.