Theatre Monologue Essay

I was slouching over in my chair as I listened to my theatre teacher recite difficult words from a book written by, what he considered an old friend of his, Bill; little did I know, Bill was going to change my life forever. Competitiveness runs through my blood so when I heard the school was hosting a monologue competition I did not hesitate to sign up. To my surprise, it had to be a monologue from one of the plays written by this Bill character that my theatre teacher adored so much. I irked his plays due to the fact that they seem to be written in a different language; however, I was still persistent in continuing with the competition.
A chill rushed through my spine as a gust of wind slapped me in the face while opening the auditorium doors
on competition day. I slithered myself into the first available chair to avoid drawing attention to my cherry red face. The confident, cocky student whom loved competition stayed on the outside of the auditorium doors. All that was sitting in a black velvet chair in row C was a teeth chattering, shaky student oblivious to his surroundings. I watched as each participant belted out their lines with such enthusiasm as I mumbled my lines to myself for memorization. Just as I was about to say my last line, they called my number. My finger nails clinched so hard to the arms of the chair and, in the moment, I thought I heard them screaming for help. I managed to walk up the stairs to the stage without tripping, but as soon as the bright lights hit my face I began to panic. Imagining I was in outer space with the blackness of the stage and the dust particles around me as stars, that the strong beams of light illuminated for me, made me feel more comfortable. I swallowed with a dry throat and croaked out my name and monologue title. I felt as my sweat raced down my face as if they were fighting to see which one could reach my freshly groomed chin first. I presented the first few words with a nervous tone but as I reached the climax of the monologue I was imitating my usual zany self. A huge wave of applause that sounded like a huge dorm slamming shut followed my last few words. The adrenaline was rushing through my veins as I took a bow and confidently pranced off the stage. The redness melted off my face when my friends gathered to congratulate me. It was moments after that the results were posted. I insisted my friend to report back to me with the results as I could not find enough courage to look myself. While she walked back with slumped shoulders and her not usual smiling self I began to panic again just as if I took the stage for the second time. My face swelled up as she got closer but before I knew it she had her arms around me and was back to her laughing self. She showed me a picture on her cracked phone of the results and next to the fine-printed number one was my name. After minutes of jumping around I ran to the judges with faint breath to thank them a second time.
Advancing to the second round of a three part competition was a huge privilege.
I was no longer just representing myself, but my entire school. The level of pressure intensified immensely. Entering the competitive atmosphere a second time did not seem to faze me as much as it did the first time. Although, this time I was competing against students who have had more exposure to Bill and his plays and seem to have much more experience. My stomach quickly became uneasy as the MC announced that the winner of this round advances to New York to perform at Lincoln Center and gets to work with professional actors who have studied at Julliard. I erased that from my memory to focus on the task at hand, my monologue. I deciphered each word and added numerous gestures to enhance my performance. Instead of being nervous for my number to be called, I sat back and enjoyed the performances as if I paid to see a show. However, the peaceful environment was quickly engulfed with chaos and nerves as my number was shouted out. I tightened my tie and let the twinkle in my eye charm the judges. Presenting my monologue felt more natural this time, as if I were back home practicing on my dirty mirror. I took the nerves and threw them so far out of the window to ensure they never returned. A few flips, quirky movements, and three jumps later, I was finished. Although I was confident in my performance, the nerves kept knocking on the window as the judges deliberated. Two hours and fifty water bottles
later, they come to a closure. After announcing third and second place I begin to shake. There were five of us left waiting to hear our name for first place. We gather in a tight circle and hold hands to symbolize our sportsmanship for one another. The judge took an unnecessary long pause as if we were on American Idol. Suddenly both hands filled with sweat and my knees locked as he raised the microphone to his mouth. I bowed my head and shut my eyes as hard as I could so I could focus on the first syllable that would tremble out of his mouth. “…and the winner is Zachary.” My head sprung up with excitement almost giving myself whiplash and my smile spread out from ear-to-ear. I stood in absolute awe as I watched the judge with the seemingly gigantic trophy walk towards me. The younger, less-civilized me, would be jumping up and down, screaming like an ape, but I knew I had to be as professional as possible as I had high expectations. I kindly accepted the award while becoming blind from the never ending flashes from cameras at every possible angle.