Writer's Workshop Wednesday

Courtesy of Mama Kat.


The one thing I got from my father that I've always appreciated was a decent set of vocal chords. I was singing in our church children's choir at a pretty young age and I started getting involved in school music programs in 4th grade.

Fast forward 6 years.

The summer before I was to start my Sophomore year in High School, my step-dad's job as a recruiter for the U.S. Navy took us to live in Louisville, Kentucky. Soon after we moved there we discovered that Louisville was home to a preforming arts high school. They would accept students in any grade and they had a voice program. But you had to audition, and the auditions were coming up in a month's time.

I wanted so badly to attend this school. Luckily my parents were 100% supportive and decided to let me audition for the voice program. That meant I had a month to practice.

The songs I chose were "The Impossible Dream" from Man of La Mancha and "Tomorrow" from Annie. I knew I'd be accompanied by piano by the instructor at the audition, but all I had to practice with at home was my step-dad playing guitar for me.

When the day of the audition came around, I was a bundle of nerves. This was the most important thing I'd done in my life at that point. I put on my prettiest dress and made sure I looked perfect. My mom drove me to the school for my audition.

When they called my name I thought my heart was going to jump right out of my chest. I walked into the room and was greeted my the instructor, a man in his 50s who's name I can't remember. Let's call him Mr. Smith. No hello. No smile. No nothing.

Mr. Smith: What's your name?

Me: Cherlyn Gray, sir.

Mr. Smith: How old are you?

Me: I'm 15.

Mr. Smith: So you'll be joining us as a Sophomore if you pass this audition?

Me: Yes sir.

Mr. Smith: Would you hand me your sheet music please?

So I handed Mr. Smith my sheet music and he took a seat at the piano. He started with "The Impossible Dream."

I forgot the words.

Completely forgot the damn words.

He glared at me, sighed, and suggested we move on to the next piece.

I knew this song. I'd known "Tomorrow" since I was 10. But my nerves were shot after flubbing the last song.

I was so off pitch even I cringed. I'd never sung that badly in my life.

When I finished raping the song, Mr. Smith asked me to sing the scales as he played them. I was still singing off-key. I just could not find the notes. I couldn't understand what was wrong with me. I'd always had (and still do have) a perfect sense of pitch. I felt the heat creeping up into my face.

Mr. Smith frowned, sighed, and dismissed me.

I ran outside and cried.