Someday, I would become the girl who knew what she was doing. The one who could one day live as a theatre professional.
KCACTF (Kennedy Center American College Theatre Festival) is essentially an inspiration bootcamp. For one week, the festival works to connect undergraduate students in the Northeast through workshops, auditions, and play readings. All week long, I hopped between workshops accompanied by my trusty spiral notebook, dutifully taking notes along the way. I felt myself growing as an artist with each session.
The last workshop was on a Saturday, called Acting as a Business. Our absolutely phenomenal instructor (Ken Urso) talked about how to stand out in the world of professional theatre, divulging all the secrets behind good resumes, reels, and headshots. As he reminded us that casting directors prefer matte headshots to glossy ones, I remembered the headshots I used for my college auditions. Taken by my dad and printed at my local CVS. I laughed to myself. If only I'd known all this information three years ago...
January 2019, the night before my first college auditions. My mom found me sobbing on my bedroom floor, surrounded by clothes and an open suitcase. To the average observer, I had nothing to cry about. I'd just completed a successful one-act festival at school, senior year was going well, and I was leaving the next morning for New York. I was supposed to be happily packing for my big adventure, not crying. "What's wrong?" she asked. In response, I held up the headshot and resumes I was about to pack.
Neither headshot nor resume was very impressive. My resume was small, written in large Arial font to strengthen what little experience I had. My headshot was...exceptionally glossy. As I imagined handing my pitiful materials to New York theatre departments, I felt stabs of real fear. These schools probably got hundreds of applications from successful young actors, who'd been preparing for this moment since childhood. Each one would be polished and perfected, attached to students who knew EXACTLY what they were doing. In contrast, mine would be attached to the girl from Olney. The one with the ½ page resume and the glossy headshot. The small-town girl out of place in the big city. The one who wouldn't make it.
My mom finished packing my materials and told me to be proud of all that I'd done so far. Instead of comparing myself to other actors, I had to focus on what I personally brought to the table. She told me that everyone started somewhere. My resume would grow longer with time. Someday, I would become the girl who knew what she was doing. The one who could one day live as a theatre professional.
I went on all the auditions and did the very best I could. I did not get into every school I auditioned for, nor did I end up going to a top theatre school. However, in the years since that night, I have learned more as an actor than I ever thought possible. I grew into someone that I was proud of.
Sitting on that KCACTF workshop, I wondered how different life would be if I went on college auditions as I am NOW. I wouldn't be the girl with the glossy headshot and fear in her eyes. I would be the confident auditionee, with better audition pieces and longer resumes. Then, I quickly checked that hypothetical train of thought...I am thankful to that girl with the glossy headshot. I never want to wish her existence away, or regret anything she did. Her determination and courage to audition, learn and grow led me to the life I live today. She will always live within me, reminding me where I started and how far I've come. And I think that growth is an important part of who I am.
So, here's my message to anyone currently auditioning for college. GOOD LUCK. I know this time can feel so stressful and overwhelming, and I'm proud of you for having the courage to embark on this journey. Avoid comparing yourself to others, no matter how small your resume. You will find your place. You will grow into the actor you've dreamed of becoming. If the girl with the glossy headshot can do it, so can you.
Videos