What My American Idol Audition Taught Me

What My American Idol Audition Taught Me

Today is the one year anniversary of my American Idol audition. What better way to commemorate it than to talk about what I learned from my experience? 

Spoiler alert: I didn’t make it. And my goodness, I’ve never been so happy to have failed at something in my life. The entire process was so grueling. I won’t get into the nuts and bolts of how the audition process is handled because there’s already tons of posts out there about it (like this one). This post is about the why. Why I’d never do it again. Why it clarified what I don’t want out of my future career. Why it answered questions I didn’t even know I had about myself. 

But I’m getting ahead of myself. 

The decision to even audition in the first place wasn’t easy. 20-year-old Elisha was a very insecure, self-doubting person. As I was tagged in Facebook posts and emailed the audition information by friends, I thought everyone was crazy. I could never. 

That’s when the VIP passes started coming in.  

What most people don’t talk about is that not everyone is treated equally during the audition process (is this much of a surprise though, seeing how the rest of our world operates?). Some people have advantages, whether it be from a successful Youtube channel or having an inside-man in the industry. These things give you a leg up. Sometimes producers will contact you directly and ask you to audition, and sometimes they will reach out to music teachers, talent agents, and businesses near the location of the auditions. My case was the latter. I was contacted by three people (a local music store, a professor, and a past employer) and was offered a VIP “front-of-the-line” access pass. This is exactly what it sounds like. I didn’t have to wait in line with the thousands of crazy singers hoping to make it. I just waltzed to the front of the line, flashed my golden wristband, and was whisked into the audition room. I waited all of eight minutes to sing (five of which was me mustering the courage to walk up to the producer and show him my darn wristband). 

In the two audition rooms I went through, it was clear that this was not the path for me. There was nothing authentic about this process. No one cared about music, the passion for creativity, the desire to make the world more beautiful with this art. They cared about TV. Entertaining the masses. Making money and climbing the “success” ladder no matter what that meant (looking back, this is so duhh, but in the moment I was flabbergasted).  

By this apparent lack of alignment in motives, I wanted to get out of this environment, stat. Out of curiosity, I continued through the process just to see how far I could get. Being turned down didn’t bruise my ego, it just informed my self-image. So I’m not Hollywood material. Good to know. 

My least favorite part of all this was the paperwork, the obligations, and the crazy contract I had to sign. You want me to agree to letting you lie about me and defame my reputation “just in case”? Think again, buster. Not happening. 

This was when it became crystal clear what I didn’t want out of my career. No matter where life takes me, I want to be in control. I never want to be so desperate for money, fame, or success that I allow others to own me. I will not be exploited for my talents. 

It also taught me that I didn’t want anyone else managing what I do. I’m a grown woman who can make decisions for myself, thank you very much. I prefer it that way. Even if it’s easier to let someone else make my decisions or use their power to accelerate my career, the trade-off isn’t worth it to me. 

Now, here’s what I’m not saying. I’m not saying that TV is bad, American Idol is the devil, and people who want to go on that show are idiots. Not at all! In fact, I think that for some people, it’s the exact path they’re supposed to take in life. Everyone isn’t like me, with the views I have or the stubbornness I possess. And I’m really glad about that. After all, if the whole world shared this mindset then how would I entertain myself on a Monday night, if not tuning in to ABC to hear some amazing singers sing their little hearts out? We all have a place in the world. Mine is just not on TV. 

So thank you, American Idol, for showing me what I don’t want. For giving me an experience that clarifies my future a little more, and convincing me to stop pursuing a career path that would have ultimately ended in a dead-end for me. I now know who I am and how I want to conduct myself professionally – and not letting others do that for me. I’ll continue to watch and root for my favorite singers, but aside from that, I’m just gonna keep on keepin’ on my own path.