I used to be a teacher. Before that, I was a newspaper reporter. This “regular person” phase of my life lasted a long time. More years than I care to admit.
During that time, I did no acting at all. I lived in cities all around the country in my early twenties, spitting distance from many prestigious regional theaters. I never auditioned. I kept up with the audition notices and read the reviews, but I counted myself out.
The only writing I did was a small motherhood blog, mostly filled with funny stories or reflections that didn’t fit easily into playdate conversation or the workroom at school.
Maybe it sounds less than fulfilling, but I loved my job. I loved the kids I taught, the people I worked with. I loved the women at the daycare who took care of my baby while I took care of other people’s older babies. I always said I’d never leave the classroom for anything other than writing full-time. I allowed that dream.
I never allowed the dream of performing again. I never talked about that dream. That river ran too deep.
I went on maternity leave for my second child. A few months later, I went to my first audition in years and got the part. I went on another audition and got an agent. The snowball grew.
Here’s what I’m saying: doubt kills more dreams than failure ever will.
Be brave, y’all.