Sometimes you have to make difficult choices when pursuing your passion. I sure did (see excerpt below). Ya gotta know what to shout a resounding “Yes” to and what to declare a big fat “No” to. It ain’t always easy. Take a deep breath, close your eyes, get quiet, and imagine your options. Which feels right? Brings you the most pleasure? Sparks your interest? Feels healthy and positive? The people around you may not necessarily agree, but in your heart of hearts, down in your gut, and deep in your soul, you know what’s best for you. You may have to let go of the old, but trust that the new path will be even more sparkly, sexy, and downright dazzling.
Please enjoy the next excerpt from:
by Kristi Lynn Davis
Having proven my competition potential, Skye and Hattie decided I should enter the Miss Suburbs Pageant. There wasn’t much in this world they loved more than a beauty queen, and even I was mesmerized at the thought of garnering my own sparkling rhinestone tiara. After all, my lovely mother had been Homecoming Queen in high school (see pic above left), my winsome Aunt Wilma Jean had been the Iowa Beef Queen (see pic above right), and my darling Aunt Nancy had been crowned Iowa’s Favorite Farmer’s Daughter. Royal blood flowed through my veins! My dad quickly squelched the idea, however. “You’re NOT wearing a bathing suit on stage?” His stern inquiry made it clear this was a rhetorical question. Ah well. I was never much interested in competing anyway, so I didn’t press the issue. Ninny Boil, another girl from my class, entered, won, and had her picture (in gown, crown, sash, and with trophy) added to the collection of photos on the studio’s Wall of Fame. The Dallas pair had now fostered royalty, and my measly Dance Masters triumph was a distant memory.
Unless you were being crowned something prestigious enough to get your picture in the paper along with a statement about hailing from Hattie’s, the Dallas gals were not big on their students skipping class for non-dance-related activities. Missing for track meets, piano concerts, cheerleading, or anything that didn’t resemble a coronation was frowned upon. So when in my junior year of high school, I landed my first lead role in a musical (Ado Annie in Oklahoma) and would have to forgo a few ballet company rehearsals, Skye adamantly said, “NO!” I was forced to choose between the Southeast Ballet Theatre and the Rogers and Hammerstein show about cowfolk.
Quitting the ballet company that meant so much to me was a horrifying prospect. I lived and breathed pointe shoes and tutus. But this was a LEAD ROLE IN A MUSICAL! How could I turn down the opportunity? Having already played the best fairies and other prima ballerina parts, I opted to stretch my wings and try singing and acting as well as dancing. This difficult decision did not go over well with Skye. Not at all. One thing led to another, and I realized I needed to leave the Dallas studio for good. Leaving my dance home and the teacher I had idolized for so long was heartbreaking, but it was now Oklahoma or bust.
Playing a main character in a musical was foreign territory for me. I’d waltzed around with the ensemble before, had the odd line here and there, even danced the dream ballet solo in Carousel, but this was real responsibility. I had pages of dialogue to memorize. I had to sing alone. Sure, I had been singing in choirs for years but not solo. And I knew nothing about acting. I begged my best friend’s mom, a community theater actress and director, for private coaching.
My character, Ado Annie, was a promiscuous, goofy, simple country girl who was always ready for a romp in the hay. This floozy sings about how she “just cain’t say no” to men and ends up “in a terrible fix.” The performances would have gone off without a hitch if it weren’t for the not-keyed-in musical director. Perhaps his mind had wandered off to wondering why in God’s name he’d relinquished his fantasy of being a famous jazz musician to teach insolent teenagers and where to numb his despondency with a stiff drink. I couldn’t say for sure, but he was not paying attention and forgot to give me the starting note for my solo, which began a cappella. I waited. And waited. And waited for that critical, guiding tone. It never came. Finally I gave up hope of any musical help, and commenced breaking the awkward silence by singing. Regrettably, when the orchestra started playing, we were in different keys. Horror! Hot flash! Eventually, after some vocal floundering, I was able to sync up with the tune. I was beyond embarrassed but had to snap out of it quickly. That’s part of the excitement of live theater: Stuff is bound to go wrong, and you just can’t get too keyed up about it for the show must go on.
The best part of the performance was curtain call. Lining up the length of the stage, the entire company held hands and took a bow together. The curtain lowered while the crowd was still applauding, and we all cheered. I held back tears. It felt so good! This was a team effort and a lot more fun than sitting in the corner alone after a dance recital, patting myself on the back for a job well done.
My senior year, I landed another choice part, Hedy La Rue in How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying. My best friend was cast as Rose, the serious, female ingenue, and I played the sexy, dumb, funny sidekick who spoke in a squeaky voice and flitted about in high heels. Fearful of opening my mouth and releasing discordant notes in public again, I took a couple of voice lessons from a local voice teacher. Luckily, I only had one solo in the show, and it was corny so I could ham it up and hide my lack of training. I truly loved the musicals.
Bowing out of the ballet to do the musical turned out to be the right decision for me. Like Ado Annie, I learned that if you just cain’t say “No!” to what’s wrong for you, you might end up in a terrible fix. What difficult choices have you had to make while pursuing your dreams? I’d love to hear. Let me 
know in the comments below.
Thanks for reading. I look forward to meeting you here again next week!
Gallop on,
Kristi
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