Waltz Time - Entry 22 - The Call

 Waltz Time: Entry 22 - The Call

“Anticipation isn’t about waiting. It’s about becoming ready.”

Getting an agent was one of the hardest things for a performer to achieve.

Representation meant legitimacy. It meant access. It meant being seen as someone worth investing in. And it rarely happened quickly or cleanly.

I had dropped off hundreds of headshots and résumés. Office after office. Building after building. Sometimes I never made it past the front desk. Other times, my materials disappeared into piles I imagined growing heavier by the day.

So when the phone finally rang, I had to sit down.

It was an interview. A commercial agency. They represented actors and dancers who could act. That distinction mattered. It meant range. It meant intelligence. It meant possibility.

I remember taking a deep breath and letting it land.

By then, I had already started studying acting at the Meisner studio downtown, not far from my little apartment. The work was demanding and stripped down. It was all about listening and reacting, focus and repetition, identifying what you were actually feeling rather than what you thought you should feel.

It was hard.  Especially for someone trained to move instead of speak.

Memorizing lines was the most challenging part. Words didn’t always stay where I put them. I knew I needed monologues ready at all times, Shakespeare, contemporary, something comedic. I was close, but not quite there. Borderline prepared.

Still, I felt I had a leg up.

As a modern liturgical dancer, you don’t sell movement. You live inside it. You commit fully to the moment. There is no selling, no pushing, no performance for approval. You inhabit truth, connect to the expressive emotions, and trust that the audience will meet you there.  That mattered more than I realized.

And then there was the look. 

For the first time, I fit somewhere. Not overly ethnic, but ethnic enough. I could move between worlds: the Hispanic market, the American market. The industry was beginning to change because America was changing. The consumer was changing. Slowly, show business was catching up.

It had been hard trying to fit into a type that never quite existed for me. Hard learning where I was supposed to belong. But I was done squeezing myself into someone else’s definition.

I didn’t want to be placed.  I wanted to arrive.

The office was in midtown, where so many of them were. I arrived early, of course, and took a seat among the other interviewees waiting for their chance. We all pretended not to look at one another, each quietly measuring time.

Résumés rested on laps. Legs crossed and uncrossed. A watch was rechecked.

And then, without warning, you came into my mind. 

I really didn’t need that distraction. Not here. Not now. But there you were, taking up space in my head. The kiss. The restraint. The pull I was trying so hard to set aside.

My hands started to sweat. Moving had never made me nervous. Dancing was like breathing. Talking, though, talking felt like drowning. Words asked me to stay afloat in a way movement never had.

I could feel my confidence wavering.  Get it together, I thought to myself.

I told myself firmly. Stop it. You want this. You’ve worked for this. You didn’t come all this way to unravel in a waiting room.

I straightened my spine. Pressed my feet into the floor. Took the kind of breath I always took before stepping onstage. Deep. Grounded. Familiar.

And then they called my name. 

I stood.  And everything else went quiet. "Yes, I am here."  

💓

Anna