Page 24 of Cast to be Mine

She seemed somewhat relieved there wasn’t any imminent danger and gave me her full attention. “What kind of mistake?”

“The kind that could tank my entire movie.” I leaned forward, elbows on my knees. “You know the actress I cast? Grace Stone?”

“The one you were so excited about at dinner. The one with the magic quality.”

“Yeah. Well, turns out that magic only shows up in auditions.”

I told her about the table read. About Grace’s stiff delivery, her inability to connect with the material, the way she’d clutched the script like a security blanket. And the worst part—Jack’s barely concealed contempt and his suggestion that I recast.

Mom listened without interrupting, her expression thoughtful.

“And now I don’t know what to do,” I finished. “We have to get this fixed before our first day of filming. She’s number one on the call sheet. I can’t recast. But I also can’t put her on camera like this. She’ll be eaten alive.”

“You’re panicking,” Mom said gently.

“Of course I’m panicking. My entire movie is riding on an actress who can’t deliver.”

“She delivered in the audition, didn’t she?”

“Yes, but⁠—”

“So the talent is there. She’s just not accessing it right now.” Mom picked up her tea, taking a slow sip. “Do you know what the difference is between a good director and a great one?”

I waited.

“A great director doesn’t just capture performances. They create the conditions for those performances to happen.” She set down her cup. “Part of being in charge is making sure your actors can do their jobs. That means understanding what they need and helping them get there.”

“I gave her a pep talk. I told her she could do it.”

“Micah.” Mom’s voice was patient. “Pep talks are nice, but they don’t solve the underlying problem. She’s overwhelmed. She needs more than encouragement—she needs actual help.”

I slumped back in my chair. “What kind of help?”

“Work with her. One-on-one. Take the time to help her break down the scenes, understand the character, find her footing.” Mom leaned forward. “I had a director do that with me once. Early in my career. I was cast in a role that was completely outside my comfort zone, and I was drowning. The director could have replaced me, but instead, he spent hours with me every day before shooting, working through each scene individually until it clicked.”

“You?” I couldn’t hide my surprise. “You’ve always been so confident on screen.”

“Because someone took the time to help me build that confidence.” She smiled. “You cast Grace for a reason. Trust that instinct but also give her the tools she needs to deliver what you saw in that audition.”

I ran my hands through my hair, considering. It made sense. Of course it made sense. But it also meant admitting that I’d thrown Grace into the deep end without a life preserver.

I felt like an asshole.

“What if she can’t get there?” I asked quietly. “What if I work with her and she’s still not good enough?”

“Then at least you’ll know you did everything you could.” Mom reached over and squeezed my hand. “But I don’t think that’s going to happen. You saw something special in her. Help her see it too.”

“Has Dad ever had these problems?”

She laughed. “Oh, Micah! Come now. Do you really think every actor that graces that silver screen just showed up on day one sparkling like a new diamond?”

That made me feel a little better. “Yeah?”

“Good directors make the movie. A good director directs the actors.”

I sat there for a moment, letting her words sink in. She was right. I’d been so focused on my own panic, on the pressure from the studio and Jack’s complaints, that I’d forgotten the most important part of my job.

Leading. Directing. Actually helping my actors succeed. It wasn’t just about getting my name on the screen. I was the captain of the ship.