This afternoon I attended an audition for a part in a play that is to be shown for a week over the summer in the theatre in Trinity College.

While I am not by nature a superstitious person, I think it would be unwise to reveal any more about said play, at this particulat juncture. And it would be especially unwise to say how I thought the audition went – that’s an exercise as useful as pissing into a galeforce wind.

Regardless of how well or badly you think you’ve done, the reality is that your own personal opinion is utterly irrelevant. Unless you are a clairvoyant, it’s impossible to  know precisely what a director is looking for, and whether he sees you as suitable for a role that you regard as yours by birthright.

It’s a weird environment, an audition. There you sit in the room of doom waiting to be called to emote in a manner that emotions have never been emoted before. You can get chatting to the people in the room with you – and as I am a member of the company I was auditioning for today, I knew the people also auditioning – generally very lovely people – so the atmosphere was quite festive. But at the back of your head there is a niggling little voice whispering ‘They are after your part, these people are your rivals.’

If I was a dishonest or cruel person then I would probably do something dastardly like Crystal Connors’ understudy did, in the alltime classic movie ‘Showgirls’. In that cinematic epic, the understudy spilled a cascade of fake pearls down the stairwell so that Crystal slipped just as she was making her onstage entrance in her legendary show ‘Goddess’. Poor Crystal broke her ankle leaving the door open for Nomi ‘I’m a dancer, not a stripper’ Malone to take the lead role, and finally make her mark on Vegas.

However as I am neither cruel nor dastardly I kept smiling.

I guess  I will hear about how I did over the next week. Fingers crossed.

Regardless of the outcome I have an idea in my head for a play that I must start writing.

Over the next few weeks I am volunteering as a door-whore (I mean this with the utmost of affection – I love front of house people at festivals, especially when like in this festival they are doing it out of sheer love) at the 15th International Dublin Gay Theatre Festival, so I will hopefully seeing a good number of plays.

The deadline for submission for the 2017 festival is December 1st. The play that exists in my head wouldn’t be gay specific, but allegedly that’s not an absolute requirement.

And you know the old cliche, if you want to get cast in a play, then write your own. I don’t want to be Crystal Connor’s understudy all my life.