I had an important audition today, so I rewrote a scene for my novel to channel my nerves. Here it is:
“I’m nervous” I said, wringing my hands as I waited to be called.
Mom rubbed my back.
“You have every reason to be,” Mom said, “but you also have every reason to do this for you. You’re the reason you’re here.”
Renowned composers and musicians’ names were etched in the practice room’s wood paneling. I played many of their pieces, listened to hundreds of concerts, and now I sat in the very halls where some of them studied.
That could be me, I thought.
That will be me.
My forehead felt hot. I swiped tiny sweat beads from the edge of my hairline.
“Hey,” Mom said. “You got this. How long have you practiced?”
“How many awards have you won?”
My nerves settled a bit.
“And guess what? None of that matters.”
There was no hiding the immediate confusion on my face.
“Do you love it?” she asked, her gaze pushing into my core.
“More than anything.”
“That’s what matters, Kathryn. Not the hours logged, awards won, but your passion behind it.”
“My passion,” I repeated.
“That shines through more than anything.”
A student in a navy Juilliard polo leaned in through the door.
I stood up, hugged Mom, and walked with pride to the door.
“Shine, sweetheart,” Mom called.