Practice and Preparation

Preparing to Choke

Earlier this week, I was listening to Hugh Jackman’s interview on The Tim Ferriss Show, and something he said really stuck with me. He was describing a conversation he had with his coach leading up to the debut of his musical, The Greatest Showman on Earth:

But in this case, she said to me, “I think you’re preparing to choke. I think you are laying the safety net for The Greatest Showman to be… to not work, and you’re thinking up all the reasons outside of yourself why it won’t work, and you have 24 hours to either decide to get on or get off. But if you’re on, you need to be a hundred percent in.” And I was like, “She’s right.”

... It’s easier to do that in life: “Well, you know, I’m going to give it a go. I’ll give it my best. You know, look, I’m not sure. Musicals are really hard; original musicals, impossible. You know, the studio wants to spend this amount of money on this writer that we wanted; we got this writer. But you know, we’re going to give it our best.” Like you’re right there, in your language, pretty much going to fail. And you’re preparing yourself for the failure, and you don’t want to fall too far, so you’ve got the safety net so that when it fails, you go, “Yeah, well, you know, if the studio had spent a bit more money on the writer or blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, X, Y, Z.”

(for the full episode transcript and audio, click here)

The idea of “preparing to choke” and the language described instantly resonated with me. 

In almost every audition I’ve ever taken, no matter how seriously I’ve prepared or how hard I’ve worked to get my head in the game, there always remains this lingering sense of holding onto the edge.

My body is fully in the water — but I’ve still got one limb anchored to the shore. 

Rarely, if ever, have I felt myself totally let go, trust, and let it all flow in an audition. This is not uncommon of course and, even in that not-totally-trusting state, I can still pull off a relatively successful audition. Auditions aren’t won solely on the basis of letting go. What’s interesting to me though is how much this holding onto the edge and preparing to choke is present in the weeks of preparation leading up to the audition.

Even in those super pumped up moments where everything is going well and I feel ready to win, there’s still this sense of “Yeah, but…” Some voice inside, either directly or indirectly, whispers the addendum, “...but you probably won’t win” to every positive moment and thought. 

Even if it’s just a whisper, it is incessant. By audition day, no matter how prepared or qualified I am, I find myself clawing at the shoreline with both hands. 

It’s a voice of protection. 

In preparing you for the possibility of failure, you’re bracing for impact and cushioning yourself from the inevitable pain that accompanies that loss. It’s the same voice that tells you to skip a practice session or watch Netflix instead of doing your work. 

That voice gets very loud for me about two weeks prior to any audition (which I call the “Two-Week Slump”). If I give in to the voice and let off on my planned preparation, I have a built-in excuse to tell myself when I don’t win. “It couldn’t be my playing or my musicality, I just didn’t prepare as well as I should have.”  The blame then shifts away from something so deeply intertwined with your identity — your playing, your talent, your musicality — and onto something external — how many hours you checked off in the practice room. 

But what — or who — is this voice really protecting you from? 

It’s protecting you from yourself. 

Well, that’s odd. 

What would happen if you completely trusted in the process, put it all out there, totally let go… and still failed miserably? Would the pain of doing so actually be worse than the pain of failing after weeks of gripping the edge, giving in to the voice, and not fully committing to your preparation or your performance? Doubtful.

Perhaps it’s not the voice of protection we need to analyze at all; instead, we should examine that impending voice of shame and embarrassment that we’re protecting ourselves from in the first place. After all, this voice seems to be the Big Bad Wolf of our story. This is who we are protecting ourselves from at all costs — our own sense of shame. 

With practice, I’ve gotten a lot better at shutting out these voices in the moment — especially in concerts — but it takes diligence, awareness, vulnerability, and kindness to keep tabs on it in as it lingers under the surface.

I haven’t taken an audition in quite some time and, like most of us, I’m not sure when I will again in the future. In the meantime, there’s probably no time better than the present to look under this hood and examine how we listen and interact with those voices. 

For me, I think this means another dive into The Alter Ego Effect by Todd Hermann. I first read this book at the start of this past season and it transformed my mental approach to high-stress performances and how I interact with the voices. I have yet to employ these tactics in an audition, but I’m encouraged by the positive impact it’s had on me in the orchestra. (If you want to take a look at what this book is about before letting go and jumping in, here’s a good Medium write-up on the general principles). 

What we do is hard enough as it is. Preparing to choke is exhausting at best and self-defeating and damaging at worst. And it’s unnecessary. Is this an easy pattern to undo? No. But is it worth it?

Absolutely. 

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