Talent gets you in the room. Relationships get you the part. Here's how we're building both.
I want to talk about something that doesn't get said out loud very often in the performing arts world. Not because people don't see it. They do. But because nobody wants to be the one to say it.
Nepotism is real. Family connections matter. And when you're the outsider, you feel it.
Seeing Frozen on Broadway — the dream, up close for the first time.
It started during Covid. Our local children's theater was doing a smaller production than usual. 14 cast members instead of the usual 40-plus. My daughter had a great audition. She wasn't cast.
She was young and the roles were few, so I told myself it was completely understandable. Then we found out that three siblings from one family and two from another had been cast. Their parents were on staff.
I didn't say that to her. I painted it as a Covid precaution. Fewer families meant fewer possible exposure points, and I hoped that was true. But something shifted in me that day. I started paying attention differently.
When we moved to Savannah we were starting over completely. We knew nobody. And for a while things felt different. She landed a big role at her very first audition here, on pure talent, and I remember the relief of that. Maybe it's different here.
But slowly the pattern emerged again. Kids who had worked with a casting director before had a noticeably better shot. Kids whose families were involved in productions consistently landed the stronger parts. Not always the lead, but always something significant enough to learn and grow from. As we expanded our theater footprint we started seeing the same kids cast again and again at other theaters, and eventually learned their parents were the ones making casting decisions too.
Every time it happens there's a moment. Before, during, or after the audition. She's doing the math and the feeling hits. I probably don't have a shot. All this hard work might result in nothing. It's a heavy feeling and I won't pretend otherwise.
Backstage after Winnie the Pooh.
The joy that keeps us going.
But here's what keeps happening alongside it.
After a production where she didn't get what she hoped for, someone in the room turns to her and says what's your name again? or you have a great voice. And that's the thing. She's being seen. Not by everyone, not all at once. But slowly, consistently, by the people who matter. Every production she works on, someone new learns her name. Every director she works with becomes someone who will vouch for her next time.
Every single production is an audition for the next one. Not just for the role, but for your reputation. How you show up in rehearsal, how you treat the people around you, how you handle a hard day. All of it is being watched and remembered. And slowly, that becomes its own kind of network.
“Every single production is an audition for the next one. Not just for the role, but for your reputation.“
We've learned to keep moving. Never banking everything on one role. Always having something next lined up. When she didn't get the part she had been preparing for months, the one she wanted so badly, she had a hard cry, felt every bit of the disappointment, and then woke up the next morning and made that production the best thing she'd ever done.
She didn't know the directors going in. She left knowing them well. She left an impression. That's the work.
My daughter doesn't walk into auditions with built-in advocates in the room. She doesn't have a parent whose name already means something in this world. That's a real disadvantage and I'm not going to pretend otherwise.
But she has something else. She has an undeniable drive. She has a genuine love for what she does that fills every room she walks into. And she has a mom who cares enough to figure this out and climb through the trenches alongside her.
Where it all started.
In my day job I spend my time helping students build connections with employers because I believe access to opportunity shouldn't depend on who you already know. The performing arts are no different. Some people are born into networks. Others build theirs one audition, one production, one relationship at a time.
Keep showing up. Keep being your best self in every room. Make your talent impossible to ignore. The people who matter will learn your name.
And when they do, it won't be luck. It'll be because you never stopped showing up.
Remember what it felt like to be the outsider. And when you're no longer one, bring someone with you. Don't be a gatekeeper. The arts have room for everyone.
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