Waiting in the Wings: How to Launch Your Performing Career on Broadway and Beyond
288
Waiting in the Wings: How to Launch Your Performing Career on Broadway and Beyond
288Paperback
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Overview
Tiffany Haas knows how to make it on Broadway. After 72 rejections in a row she finally landed a role in Broadway’s long-running smash hit Wicked and later became “Glinda the Good.” Now she wants to share her advice for starting and nurturing a career in the theater. Waiting in the Wings is the essential guide for anyone who wants to have a theatrical career, whether they’re complete newbies or already have some professional credits.
Based on everything she learned on her journey to New York, including 10 years on Broadway, Tiffany shares the information that you need to succeed in theater. Everyone’s path is a little bit different, but the principles for success are always the same. With advice on auditions, how to become the performer they want to hire, developing relationships with cast mates, finding a reputable agent, the importance of reputation, and the best way to shape and build your career, Tiffany covers every aspect of the business. You’ll learn what it takes to be successful and where to best spend your time and effort as you navigate the “great mystery” of pursuing musical theater.
In an industry that is famed for its insider secrets, Tiffany draws back the curtain, giving readers the knowledge and tools they need to follow their dreams. If you’re one of those people Waiting in the Wings for a big Broadway career, Tiffany Haas’s book is the one resource you need to land a big role, stand in front of those footlights and let it go!
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781250193735 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | St. Martin's Publishing Group |
| Publication date: | 04/23/2019 |
| Pages: | 288 |
| Sales rank: | 1,097,548 |
| Product dimensions: | 5.50(w) x 8.25(h) x 0.65(d) |
About the Author
Jenna Glatzer is an award-winning writer and celebrity co-author whose works include authorized biographies of Céline Dion and Marilyn Monroe. Her books have been featured on The Oprah Winfrey Show, The Today Show, and Entertainment Tonight, and in publications including People and Time magazines.
Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
It Took 72 Auditions
There I was in New York City, no longer as a tourist but now a resident. I called my parents after every audition to give them the complete play-by-play — the good and, on this day, the bad.
"I didn't get cast again," I said on the phone through big, heartfelt, blubbery tears. "I think I should come home. It's never going to happen here for me."
It was my third audition since I'd moved. All my life had been in preparation for this — since I was five years old and started putting on impromptu concerts of selections from Annie in the living room (red wig and all). Dinner at our house was never just a meal; it was dinner and a show. I knew at a very young age that I loved performing. I had never wanted to do anything else besides make it to New York and be a Broadway star. And now I was finally here in the city that never sleeps, and it was more of a struggle than I'd imagined.
One of my first Broadway auditions was for Belle in Beauty and the Beast. I'd read the casting breakdown, and it was just perfect for me; they were looking for a young brunette soprano ingénue type, spunky and charismatic and just my height.
This is me! I thought. I've got this. I walked into that building filled to the brim with confidence until the moment I rounded the corner and saw a hundred other young women who looked exactly like me. All of a sudden, I realized this was not high school or college with a few people vying for the lead role. This was the real deal where there were literally hundreds of qualified people for every role.
There we all were, young brunette soprano ingénues, all holding our books of sheet music, all wearing flowing dresses. I got my first reality check. This is something we all know about before moving to NYC. We hear the stories about thousands of people waiting to be seen, or lines wrapped around a building for an audition, but when you see it with your own eyes, it hits you in the face! I had a moment where I thought, Huh, so those stories are true.
I knew the real world of professional theatre was going to be competitive, but until I stood in that hallway surrounded by talented women, I didn't realize how competitive. I had no idea how I would ever stand out, and in the end, I didn't — I didn't even get a callback for the role I was so sure was meant to be mine.
"Listen," my dad said. "You have three people involved in this career, and two of us are not worried. Keep going."
It was a blessing I knew not everyone had — two supportive parents who never once told me that I should have a fallback career. (You'll get their take on things later on in the book.) They believed in me more than I believed in myself at times, and they reminded me to persevere, stay committed, and move on to the next audition. And so I did!
Seventy-two of them, in fact, before my big break.
There are lots of ways to get into a performing career, but I come at it with my own life experiences and biases about what worked for me. We are all different, but the lessons I learned are applicable to anyone determined to succeed.
My Path to Broadway: Early Lessons Learned
New York City was a long way from my home in Virginia, and a much different atmosphere. I grew up in my mother's dance studio, Academy of Dance. I began taking classes at the age of three and spent much of my childhood training as a competitive dancer, but I loved to sing just as much. My mom had a clear understanding of the dance world, but the singing world was new to all of us. Finding someone who would teach voice lessons to an eight-year-old was certainly a challenge. My mom had a dear friend who was a highly accomplished voice teacher, a former Miss Alabama and a true Southern belle who wore shoulder pads with everything. She didn't teach children under the age of twelve, so my mom asked her to meet with me one time as a personal favor. When the lesson ended, I ran out to my mom's car with a handwritten note. (No cell phones or texting at that time.)
The note read:
The Virginia Opera is holding auditions for its children's chorus this week and Tiffany needs to audition.
The next day, my mom drove me to Norfolk, where I auditioned for the Virginia Opera children's chorus. I was accepted, and that turned out to be where I got my first taste of professional performing. It's also where I found a love of opera and classical music. We performed La Bohème, and a six-foot-five flamboyant man who looked like a black version of Arnold Schwarzenegger was cast as my father. I loved it! That wonderful man soon played a very important role in my life.
Starting when I was about ten, I convinced my mother to get me an agent and take me to TV, film, and theatre auditions. We traveled to New York without my dad even knowing sometimes.
One time, we were on the train going over my lines and my dad called. My mother picked up nervously. "Hello?"
"Hi, honey. Do you want to meet for lunch?"
"Well, um ..."
"Where are you girls?"
"New York?"
They were a funny balance. My mom was the one who was more spontaneous and creative, and my dad was more practical. He was always supportive, but he didn't want me missing school. I had a final callback for Interview with the Vampire, and he wouldn't allow me to go because it meant I would miss the first day of school. I was a wreck about it.
"This is the biggest moment of my life!" I protested.
"The first day of school is the biggest moment of your life, not an audition."
I can understand and agree with the wisdom of his words now, but it felt like the end of the world at the time, and I dropped to my knees and cried just like a proper little actress.
When I got to middle school and my parents sent me to a private prep school, I floundered and felt like I wasn't fitting in. All my parents wanted was to give me the best education possible so that I'd be able to go to whatever college I wanted, like my dad, a West Point grad and financial advisor.
The headmistress (a wonderful woman) did me a big favor when she took my father aside and said, "Have you ever used calculus again in your life after school?"
"Never, really," my father said.
"Neither will she, and she doesn't want to be a financial advisor. Get her out of this school and put her somewhere she can really thrive and do what she loves."
It was a shock to my parents to hear such a thing, but they took it to heart. What I loved was performing, and where I belonged was a performing arts school. So in a decision that would change my life, my parents switched gears and put me exactly where I needed to be and where I would thrive ... the Governor's School for the Arts. Looking back, I realize this was a huge sacrifice for my parents because they spent almost three hours a day driving to make this happen!
A great lesson here: There are people who will come into your life and help you along the way. Listen to them. Learn from them.
High School (the Governor's School)
Admission to the Governor's School was by audition only. It was a public school, but you still had to be selected based on your audition. All around me was an eclectic mix of kids — some coming from privileged families; some who had very difficult home lives and no solid parental figures. But we all had something in common: We loved to perform.
I wasn't sure whether I'd major in voice, musical theatre, or dance. I picked the Judy Garland song "Get Happy" and gave it my all. I tried so hard to passionately imitate Judy's famous swoons and croons. Really? A Judy Garland song, and I was going from eighth grade to ninth grade! Pretty funny as I think back on that choice today, but I wanted this at fourteen years old, and I was fearless.
After my audition, two men — one of whom turned out to be the man who had played my father in La Bohème — followed us out to the car.
"I would love to work with you and help you develop your voice," the other man said. His name was Alan Fischer, and he would soon become my mentor, voice teacher, and dear friend. "She needs to develop her voice classically. It's where her voice lives. We want to work with her. After she develops classically, she'll be able to sing anything she wants, but please consider our program."
We were amazed that they had bothered to chase us out to the car, and we figured that anyone who showed that much enthusiasm about me probably should be my teacher. And it was a great move — those two men were partners in the program, and they made a phenomenal team. They were my teammates, like two uncles who shaped me as a musician and a performer.
Robert Brown was the big guy from La Bohème, hilariously larger-than-life and expressive. He spit when he spoke, and when my classmates and I would complain, "Mr. Brown, you spit on me!" he would say with his famous drawl, "It's good for your complexion, baby!" And Alan Fischer encouraged us to push our own limits. He challenged us with material that many teachers would never consider for high schoolers. But he believed that we were capable of anything. Even as high schoolers, he immersed us in the world of music and treated us as young professionals. He took us to New York City, introduced us to his colleagues — professional opera singers like Plácido Domingo, Renée Fleming, and Denyce Graves.
There are many performing arts high schools throughout the country, as well as state governor's school programs. In regards to Virginia's program, I went to my normal high school (the public high school I was zoned for) in the morning to take my core classes (English, math, social studies, and the like) and then took a bus to the Governor's School in the afternoon. We got out later than public schools — my last class ended at 5:00 p.m. If there were rehearsals for school shows, I stayed until 9:00 p.m. If not, I went to my dance classes at my mom's studio each night.
For my parents, the driving game and sacrifice had just begun. For me, it meant, among other things, that I couldn't really participate in after-school activities with my friends. Most of my high school girlfriends were cheerleaders, and I really wanted to be with them and wear the cute uniform and the adorable high ponytail with a bow like they did, but I couldn't make the rehearsals. Finally, they helped me wrangle a spot as the mascot so I could at least travel to games with them.
(There was a slight bit of confusion when I tried to put my own touch on the mascot ... I put a big bow on the bear's ears to make her look girly when I carried the game ball at homecoming. The football players were furious! "You're not one of the girls! You're supposed to be a scary bear!")
I also didn't get to do most of my high school musicals (because I was doing shows at the Governor's School), even though I really wanted to. It was hard knowing that my friends were doing things together without me, but at a young age, I was learning the meaning of making choices and sacrifices for what I wanted.
After our four years in the Governor's School vocal program, Mr. Fischer did something amazing: He made it part of our last day to go back and watch our original audition tapes. We all got to laugh and see how far we'd come in our time there. It's funny looking back now, because I was so sure and confident of that audition, but after those years of training, I giggled watching the tape. We all did! It was amazing how much I had grown and learned in high school. Without the help and guidance of Alan Fischer and Robert Brown, I never would have been prepared for college auditions or succeeded in professional theatre. It's amazing what happens when someone believes in you!
And it didn't just happen to me. Soon after I graduated, a boy named Ryan Speedo Green arrived. He had grown up in a trailer park and later in a bullet-ridden shack and was in seclusion in juvenile hall at the age of twelve for making threats. He was angry and had a tough background to overcome — but he also had tremendous raw talent. After training with Mr. Brown and Mr. Fischer, Ryan went on to win the 2011 Metropolitan Opera National Council Auditions and is now a professional opera singer performing all over the world.
College: More Training and More Lessons Learned
There are many paths to success. I decided to continue my training after high school by attending an opera/musical theatre program in college. My parents and I selected five or six schools that seemed to be a good fit and planned our trips to visit the schools and prepare to audition. If this is your path, do your homework! Schools are different; they have varying requirements for admission, and you'll need to plan your trips to each school you are interested in.
It's very, very different from the college admissions process if you want to be an engineer, a biologist, or a lawyer, or you just haven't decided. Most times, you'll need to apply to the school or university and the musical theatre program within the school itself. You'll need to audition for them as well. Find out exactly what they want, prepare and prepare, and be ready to present your years of study in one song or one dance combination, or one monologue! Ask what they want. They are all different.
This becomes a bit of a family project and one you should get started on as a junior if possible. Then you'll be ready for auditions during your senior year.
Visit the schools you are interested in. Try to decide if this is the place you'll want to spend four years of your life. Do you want to go to a small conservatory in a small town? That will certainly be a different four years from attending a huge school like NYU and living in New York City. I auditioned for five schools during the fall and winter of my senior year.
My choice was the University of Cincinnati College–Conservatory of Music (CCM), one of the country's top-ranking music schools. I initially began as an opera major and eventually switched to musical theatre along with an intimate group of up-and-comers. Let me be very straightforward here and say that you do not need this type of education to wind up on Broadway — there are many paths. One time after a performance of Wicked during a Q&A session, an audience member asked each of my fellow cast members, "Could you each tell us which conservatory you went to?" and I was one of the few cast members who actually went to a conservatory. One of my friends never went to college; she showed up in New York straight from high school. Another was apolitical science major at a liberal arts school. There's no checkbox on the résumé to make sure you went to a prestigious music or theatre program in college.
But the one thing that we all had in common was the training. Regardless of our individual paths to Broadway, we all spent hundreds of hours in dance studios, voice lessons, and acting classes — not to mention hearing no at auditions and learning to go again and keep persevering! A musical theatre program is all about training and preparation for eventually auditioning to get a job. If you don't go to a program like this after high school, remember that you'll be competing for that job with plenty of talented young performers who have spent four years in a rigorous program of preparation. They, too, will have spent hundreds of hours in dance studios, voice lessons, and acting classes. They will have years of mock audition experience. They will have competed for parts in shows while in school and heard no many times. That's your competition. That said, there are no guarantees. Whoever brings it to the audition room generally gets the job.
There are, however, several advantages to a conservatory or musical theatre school. First, of course, is the education itself — you'll be immersed in music and acting in ways that were never possible before. This may be the first and only opportunity you'll get to completely focus on honing your skills as a performer before getting out there into the giant question mark of your career. Not only that, but you are learning accountability. Mom and Dad aren't there to be sure you're waking up for school. They're not there to bring you your dance bag if you forgot it.
But aside from the training, there's another major benefit to conservatories in recent years: the showcase.
Showcase Season
This is becoming more and more popular with college programs: Each spring, college programs like CCM's host a showcase in New York City (and sometimes Los Angeles) during spring of senior year to highlight all or some of their graduating seniors. At some schools, you have to audition to get a spot in the showcase, but most of them are for any senior who wants to participate. (At CCM, we were each given time to perform and show off our best material at a rented space.) Numerous casting directors, agents, managers, choreographers, producers, and directors come to these events to see the newest talent. It's even known as "showcase season," and industry pros know to keep their schedules open for as many of them as possible. It's where they scope out new talent from around the country and try to grab the most promising people for their agencies or their shows.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Waiting in the Wings"
by .
Copyright © 2019 Tiffany Haas.
Excerpted by permission of St. Martin's Press.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
A Message to Aspiring Singers, Dancers, and actorsAcknowledgements
1. It Took 72 Auditions
2. Life on Broadway
3. Your Options as a Performer
4. What That Guy Taught Me About Reputation
5. Who Else Would You Be? All About Auditions
6. Preparing for an Audition or Performance
7. Agents and Managers
8. Video Auditions
9. Lessons on Persistence
10. The Business of You
11. Union or Nonunion?
12. Tips from a Casting Director
13. Child Actors
14. Avoiding Scams
15. You've Never Arrived
16. The Show Must Go On
17. Serving Your Audience
Parent to Parent
Glossary
Index
About the Authors