The Bravest Individual

…or attempting to be as I step into the role of Author

Spring 2008

The light onstage has a cool blue undercurrent as the musicians sweep in. The orchestra accompanies the actors onstage for Western Kentucky University’s production of Sweet Charity. I can see them tuning their instruments, turning pages on their music books, and quietly whispering into place. I bend at the waist for another round of stretches, working to keep my body ready. I swallow and omit a steady little hum. I hope that my vocal warmups were proficient. 

As the music begins, the stage manager motions toward me. I stride out in my three-inch character heels to my mark. I smooth my bright pink costume, tailor-made for my body. For four years I’ve been a chorus girl. But tonight, I walk to center stage. 

I roll my shoulders. I am ready but I also fight the feeling of running far from this stage. 

A hush shudders over the audience. The spotlight winks on and I’m bathed in a bright circle as I begin my role as Charity.

Fall 2024

It is an ordinary Monday in September when the press release goes live for my memoir. I see it go live and gasp. I am excited to finally have the news out in the world, and I also want to crawl under my covers for the day. I battle the rolling emotions and lift my phone to copy the post I’ve prepped for social media. It took me hours to try to set the tone of subdued excitement. My thumb flicks the “post” button:

My memoir, Holding On & Letting Go: A Life in Motion, will be released this May 2025 with the award-winning independent publisher Elva Resa Publishing and superb developmental editing by Terri Barnes. I am so grateful to friends + family, and the team that has helped give this project wings. And I have much to share on what stories the book unveils + the process of creating it— but for today I’m celebrating that this work is coming soon!

It requires a mountain of self-restraint to keep myself from refreshing the post for the rest of the day. Later in the evening, I allow myself to check back in. What I find across platforms is an overwhelming generosity, a tidal wave of kind words cheering me on. 

I’ll need every one as autumn stretches and I move from writing a book to having written a book. 

Spring 2008

I have lived and breathed Sweet Charity for months now. I’ve given up nights with friends and traded any college “excess” fun in order to train for the mental, emotional, and physical gymnastics of this show. As I stand for hours in the evening in my studio apartment, I believe the practice will eventually make up for my self-doubt. 

When we get into the studio, I watch my peers laughing in the chorus, and I find loneliness in being a leading lady that I’ve never been privy to before. I share this with my most trusted confidants, and they nod and hug me and tell me I am not alone. They tell me it’s good to do it, even if I’m scared. That I’m in the right place to grow. That I’ve got this, keep going.

I push on, one rehearsal, one costume fitting, one dress rehearsal and one mic check at a time. 

I fought for this role, and it is mine. But when that spotlight flicks on, I can’t help for an instant still wondering, do I belong here? They— the director, music director, choreographer, cast, friends, and family come to see me— they are trusting me.

On opening night my first choreographed movement, first line spoken, and first note sung, my hours of practice boosted me. I know these words, my body has memorized the dances, and I fall into character. Each scene asks a little question, do you know what you’re doing now?

I keep moving the plot along. Yes, yes, yes. 

The leading man and I end up at the elevator scene, where his character, the nervous and anxiety-ridden Oscar, is clinging to the ceiling of the elevator in a panic attack. Charity steps forward (in song of course) to tell him how she makes it through her challenging times:

When I'm so jittery my knees buckle

Ice water tickles my spine

I'm trapped like a butterfly in a net

Then I say to myself

"I'm the bravest individual I have ever met"

Charity believes it, so I try to as well.

As we move from opening night into the run of the show, I gain confidence but it's not without lingering conflict. I always have butterflies (the size of blue morphos) thudding against my insides before I step onstage.

I am always both terrified and thrilled. Worried and wondrous. Continuous duality. Like one can’t exist without the other.

But each night as the lights come up, and the production is shared, I offer my work up to the audience. We make a world for an evening. And I hope that we both leave the experience entertained, changed, and asking new questions.

We don’t exist without each other.

Fall 2024

The week after the press release for the book, I made my way to the Military Influencer Conference in Atlanta. I wheel my suitcase of sharp attire and author/speaker one sheet into my hotel room and sink onto the bed. I’m here to talk about the book, but how? This is a new realm. I haven’t practiced. I don’t know my lines.

Throughout the conference, I find myself standing with inspiring individuals who want to hear my story, and I want to hear theirs. We listen and ask, “What do you need and how can I help?” My friend Amanda is at the conference too, and she tells me I need to read her an excerpt from my book. Over dinner in the hotel lobby, with a group of old and new friends, it comes up again.

“Okay, I’ll do it,” I say, and everyone cheers as I click open the documents on my phone. I select one of my favorite excerpts and begin to read. My hands are shaking. My voice catches, but I look up to see them nodding in support, and I keep going. When I finish and look up, their eyes dance. “Wow,” one of them says. “Well done.” And I tell them thank you. The butterfly was beating against my stomach the whole time, and yet the words, the work, took flight. 

I’ve been steadily pouring time into my book for the past six years. And to me, writing a book is very much like preparing for a production. It requires time, patience, energy, revision, hope, and bravery. 

Writing the chapter drafts is like hours in a workshop. Honing, sharpening, examining what works and what doesn’t. Throwing it out. Starting over. Then composing the book proposal was a round of auditions, dearly wanting to be the one chosen, the right fit for the part. And as the book landed with an editor, it entered the rehearsal process. More refinement, more work. This fall I’ve found I’m backstage with my book. It’s almost ready. I’m standing in the wings, waiting. I’m asking, am I ready? Do I belong here?

I walked away from the conference evening with the realization that I didn’t know how much I needed to read my words aloud, to begin to share the heart behind my book. 

From that evening on, I’ve had a surprising number of other moments where I’ve been able to practice sharing:

• At our team ministry retreat on the back porch of a sunset night, my hands sweaty as I read aloud, the woman next to me hugging me in return. Tears thundering down my cheeks, because writing it is one thing, openly sharing it is another.

• With one of my dear friends over tea and coffee, her hand reached up to grasp mine as she said, “I’m going to think about this moment when I am holding your book in my hands, that’s going to be so neat.”

• On a car trip back from Fort Cavazos, my voice filled the midnight ride with the chapter about my mom, and my writer-driver-friend shared how it moved her.

None of these readings were rehearsed. All of them altered my question, from “Do I belong here?” To: “I want you here. You belong here.” 

Because the best part of a production is when we share the efforts with the audience, the moment when we can see the actress’ sweat pouring down her face as she connects. 

The best part of a book is having a reader, where the words we’ve worked to shape into the breath and beat of our story take flight in your hands.

I will soon offer my work up to you. I am so honored to open the world I made out of words. 

And I hope that we both leave entertained, changed, asking new questions. Connecting.

We don’t exist without each other.

The character Charity comes back with a reprise of “I’m the Bravest Individual,” and it goes like this:

“So when I panic and think each day I'll fail at whatever I try, then I say that fear hasn't licked me yet! I keep telling myself, I'm the strongest, soundest, stoical, daringest, feistiest, most heroical— I'm the bravest individual I've ever met!”

Thanks for helping me be brave.

the 22 year old dancer & the 38 year old author

This post is part of a blog hop with Exhale—an online community of women pursuing creativity alongside motherhood, led by the writing team behind Coffee + Crumbs. Click here to view the next post in the series "Tender."

Backstage photo by Wesley Pribadi on Unsplash