The Actors Nightmare

At a small theatre up the hill

Singing with Custom Blend in Massachusetts

Well, that was unexpected.

Halfway through the song I had no idea what the next line was.

Not a flicker — nothing. Just blank space where a lifetime of performing onstage was supposed to live.

Several days ago I joined an a cappella group I once sang with for a small concert. The program was varied and included a cappella, Broadway and even opera. It was a joyful afternoon — familiar faces, shared history, and the chance to sing a song that I love. I chose But the World Goes Round, a jazzy, sultry Kander and Ebb number. It’s a song about how life keeps moving whether we are ready or not.

I was not ready.

I have been on stage countless times. Nerves are normal — the small flutter that sharpens attention. This was different. My legs trembled. The bright lights made me feel unsteady. My body felt unreliable. I kept wondering whether my brain would cooperate when I needed it most.

We didn’t have much rehearsal time, and I told myself that was the reason. But underneath that practical explanation was a deeper one I didn’t want to look at too closely. My relationship with my brain has changed. My body has changed. And let’s face it — I am not getting younger.

Actors talk about the nightmare of walking on stage and forgetting everything. Some actors are haunted by it.

And then, standing under the lights, I lived it.

For a moment I had no idea what came next. And then something curious happened. Instinct — older than memory — carried me forward. The rhythm returned. The words found me again. The song continued and, mercifully, so did I.

The audience never knew or at least said they didn’t. But I did.

Afterward I realized I had been waiting for a feeling I used to count on — the confidence that comes from knowing your instrument will behave exactly as expected. I may not get that certainty back in the same way.

So the choice changes.

It’s no longer: Will I perform when I feel completely ready?
It’s: Will I keep showing up even when being ready is no longer guaranteed?

A fellow theatre artist recently warned me not to let my limitations steal the things that bring me joy. She’s right. The risk now isn’t embarrassment. It’s withdrawal.

So I will keep saying yes — not because I am fearless, but because participation matters more than perfection.

The world goes round either way.

I would rather still be singing when it does.

Below, a smattering of my life in musical theatre.

Five Lesbians Eating a Quiche, Our Town, Oklahoma,Jane Eyre, Jekyll and Hyde, La Cage Aux Folles, Sound of Music, Urinetown, Working