Audition fail

In March I got an email notice that Modesto Symphony would be having auditions for three principal spots. I've never had any urge to take an audition up until now- my life is always teetering on the edge of complete chaos my balance of teaching and freelancing with various symphonies is just right as is. But this notice grew like a weed in my head until I knew I had to give it a shot. For one, it would be a little silly for me to spend my whole life training to be a violinist and then never take a single real audition. What kind of teacher am I be if only know about auditions from other people's horror stories? I clearly needed some of my own. It's a little like my deranged fascination with natural child-birth. Women have been doing it since the beginning of the beginning, I didn't want to get left out of that party. Plus I was curious, am I capable of learning the music well enough? Audition excerpt lists are nasty, and nearly perfect violinists are a dime a dozen. I haven't seriously practiced in seven years (Sal is 7, easy math) and I've been feeling less sure of my abilities. So I arranged a lesson with the concertmaster to get me started. I had a little under five weeks to prepare and I was immediately griped with extremely motivating terror.

Week one was interesting. I learned the notes. Milo learned to shout louder than the violin. Sal schooled herself. I went to my first lesson since grad school. I shook like a leaf.

Thankfully, the next two weeks were my spring break from teaching. So I packed up the kids and drove to Utah. For the first week we stayed with Scott's parents who were help sent from heaven. They basically took care of the kids while I practiced my tail off. I managed 8-10 hours a day. Yay for the Homers putting up with my non-stop broken record practicing. I had a great (and terrifying) lesson with my teacher from BYU. So helpful. 

And then my hand stared to burn. Which was pretty scary if you know Scott's history. Scott prescribed me some drugs and they helped, but I couldn't keep up the marathon cramming. Not surprising.

The next week my whole family was in town, and they were good sports about enduring the occasional broken record. But I spent as much time with my arms in a bowl of ice water as I did practicing. My second lesson in Provo was very encouraging and I started to feel more confident. But my hand was hurting so badly I could hardly bow. Spiccato was out of the question. So when I got home Scott gave me three injections that saved the day.

A couple days before the audition I had one more lesson with the concertmaster who said I had a good shot. Thinking I had a chance made me more nervous than anything, I think. On the day of the audition I woke up early and delivered the kids to trusty friends for the day. Then I drove the 90 minutes down to Modesto. The first thing they do is check you in and deliver you to a common room packed with frenzied violinists practicing their brains out. Horrible. And suddenly it seems like everyone in the world can play better than you.

When my group of 5 was called, we all picked numbers out of a hat for our order. I was somewhere in the middle. Then we each got a private practice room. Just thinking about it months later gives me the chills. A proctor came to get me and I packed up my music and was lead to the slaughter. Outside the stage door the proctor reminded me not to speak or make any sound, and in we walked. It's so weird being on stage behind a screen. Some unembodied voice welcomed me and asked me to begin. I took a minute to breath and jumped in. The first 30 seconds were the hardest trying to control the shakiness and get used to the sound of the space, but I felt like I settled in as I went along. I made some regrettable mistakes, and was asked to play Don Juan twice, but overall it was okay.

After playing I was sure I'd be sent home. We waited for about a half hour and then they told us who would move on. I was sure they'd made a mistake when they called my number and had to check twice.

At first I felt so happy! And relieved! I drove home buzzing. I really thought that I would be happy no matter what happened after making it to finals. But the next day when I arrived to do it all over again I discovered that there were only 5 of us and my stupid hopes got up and along with it extreme nerves.

Day 2 went pretty similarly to day 1. I warmed up, made some mistakes, did my best given the pressure. All 5 of us waited together in the common room for several hours. Then the proctor came in, thanked us all for coming and dismissed me and one other violinist. And that was it! So final! I gathered my things and skulked out. And then sat in my car and cried.

For the next couple days I couldn't stop thinking about it. Every mistake ran through my head over and over. Man! I hate loosing! And I couldn't stop thinking if only my hand had held out! If only I'd had a couple more days! If only I hadn't made that horrible crunch at the beginning of Don Juan!

So there you have it. A very long-winded humiliation story. I'm so glad I did it. It was worth the suffering. And I'll probably do it again sometime. Bah, what a job.