Definitely not something I have. You could stand me on a box in the middle of Topeka and I’d end up being elected their next mayor. I think the solution to stage fright is really not giving a F who believes you and who does not. Naturally U have to believe yourself for confidence, but trying to anticipate what others will make of what you say is a complete waste of energy.
As long as you believe it, they will too.
But stop just short of arrogance. No one likes it, well except the A hole that’s being arrogant. But pity them not. They have to do it. It’s their only method of survival. If they lived and died based on their perception, they’d never get anywhere at all. Which could hold some merit. Nobody likes a show off convinced their way is THE way. We get enough of that from our leader, the honorable sunkist orange.
I met a stage actor once who was convinced he could not deliver a performance worthy of recognition unless he had three martinis prior to curtain time. For measure, if I’ve had two martinis then a sip or two of a third, I don’t remember a thing. Everyone can’t wait to give me their recollection the next day: you mean you don’t remember lap dancing with the chef on top of the grill?
So Wednesday’s matinee day on the Great White Way, a show at 2:00 and a second one at 8:00. The actor was feeling a bit hungover so he decided to skip the martinis prior to the matinee.
Well he was horrible. He forgot lines, botched up the pacing of a conversation to the point that other actors were completely thrown out of sync. The dismal applause at the curtain call (there was just one) left the cast feeling dejected. Now the actor knew what the cause was. So in between performances, he stayed in his dressing room and doubled up his usual potion – six instead of three. The first three were to ward off any evil spirits lingering from the matinee. The last three were his prep work for the evening performance. Not a good plan.
He was pulled at intermission and his understudy finished the performance for him. Well word spreads quickly in the Broadway community and soon the casting calls were fewer and fewer. He had long hiatuses in between one show and the next and rarely landed the lead role.
And then it happened. Stage fright. Martinis or no martinis. He couldn’t tell which strategy worked the best. He got butterflies in his stomach, something he’d never had since his Juilliard days. He finally became so paralyzed with fear that he stopped acting altogether. He’s a shoe salesman now at Bergdorf Goodman. While it’s certainly not a high profile job, he’s never been more confident in his life.
The man sticks his foot inside the scale. The salesman reads the result. He matches it to a box with that same size. Life was good.
Until the day a man came in with a size 12 foot. He lost it in the storage room trying to find a match, then finally whipped out the flask.
Yep, dyslexia. Once suitably lubricated he found the shoes.
Sadly by then the customer had found the exit.