Taking the Lead: Lessons From a Life in Motion (20 page)

Another opportunity presented itself this year from one more new-to-me genre. I was asked to choreograph a ballet for Misty Copeland to perform at the Youth America Grand Prix Gala at Lincoln Center. Growing up, I was never a fan of ballet. I hated going to class; I just wasn’t into it. But once I started researching who Misty was and all the obstacles she has overcome in her career, I got excited. I realized how cool she is and how she is changing the face of ballet. I was also in a place in my life where I was tired of being safe. I really think sometimes I have two personalities that battle each other: the one that says, “You are so out of your league here,” and the other that says, “Go on! You can kill it!” We danced to an original piece of music by the Taalbi Brothers, and I worked with District 78 to remix it. What I wanted to create was a group ensemble piece with Latin dancers behind us. The first day, when I got to rehearsal, Misty had already been there for about four hours, taking ballet classes with teenage girls. She has an amazing work ethic. I was immediately struck by what a beautiful woman she is, with an amazing physique that exudes pure strength. We started rehearsing, and immediately I was in love with her ability—it was beyond anything I’ve ever seen or danced with. She taught me a thing or two, and I’m so grateful for the experience. It was proof to me that when you push your boundaries, you grow by leaps and bounds.

I love helping people fulfill their dreams, but I also want to revive some of my old dreams as well. Dr. Dale E. Turner once wrote, “Dreams are renewable. No matter what our age or condition, there are still untapped possibilities within us and new beauty waiting to be born.” As a kid, I had a lot of dreams. I wanted to be an explorer, an Oscar-winning leading man, a rock guitarist/singer. But I got into a groove and I began to let those dreams go and accept they weren’t going to happen.

Now, I think I’ve reached a point where I want to quench the thirst of all my dreams. If they don’t come to fruition in the exact way I envisioned them, that’s okay. I at least want to pursue them. It’s one of the reasons I signed on to do the movie
Make Your Move
. I’ve noticed that I’m drawn to storytelling—either through dancing, music, or acting, it’s all about conveying a story. In this case, the character was a hoofer, a tap dancer from New Orleans. There’s a lot of things I am, but tap dancer isn’t one of them. I knew I would have to learn how—instant challenge. I also remembered how, when I was little, my dad used to tell me he wished I would learn to tap because it’s one of his favorite things to watch. Again, I found myself in strange, uncharted territory. Everything I had done up to this point in my life was live: live TV, live stage, live competitions. Film is different. Whether you get it right or you get it wrong, you’re still going to do it over and over again.

I was doing a dance number and I wasn’t happy with how it was turning out. The old perfectionist in me came out; I was frustrated and angry with myself for messing it up.

The director came up to me and said, “Derek, calm down. We’re going to do at least twelve takes of this to get the camera angles.”

Oh.

I had to keep reminding myself of this: we’re going to do it a gazillion more times, and then they’re going to cut up and weave together the best pieces. I also had to get into a different frame of mind about how I wanted to convey this character. In live theater or on the ballroom floor, it’s all about projecting and being big, but in film, less is more. I had to learn to dial it down, which goes against every fiber of my being. But seeing myself on the screen, I understand why that needed to happen. The smallest nuance is captured.

Another big new venture for me is my tour with my sister Julianne. It kicked off five days after the spring 2014
DWTS
season wrapped up. Julianne and I were both at a place in our lives where we felt like something was missing. We knew that doing a live show together would force us to grow and challenge our stamina, endurance, and creativity. It was daunting and terrifying, but all the good stuff in my life has started for me with complete terror. Once I convinced myself, convincing my sister was easy.

We thought at first we would do a live show in Las Vegas and the Venetian wanted us to put it on after Faith Hill and Tim McGraw checked out. But the more we pondered the idea, the more we realized that we didn’t want people to come see us. We wanted to go see them. We wanted to go into their towns and cities and reach them. We weren’t sure what the demand would be, but we were inspired. Everything seemed to fall into place after that decision was made. We know how important moving is in our lives, so the name of the tour became Move. It has a double meaning. Everything in the world is moving, but there’s also the emotional side: what moves you? We talked a lot about how we could create a show where we have the audience interact with us. We wanted them to leave the theater feeling out of breath. We wanted the show to feel like a big party or a rock concert—no one sits this one out.

Starting up rehearsals was interesting. Julianne hadn’t danced like this in four years and she was nervous. But it was like riding a bike. We picked up right where we left off. In our first rehearsals, she was going for it more than ever—she’s such a daredevil. Everything I did, she wanted to do and then some. That old competitive side comes out. For me it felt like the first season of
DWTS
, because that was really the first time we danced together. People asked us a lot about who would be calling the shots and creating the routines. Honestly, it’s been totally collaborative. We rarely disagree and we both land on similar things. If I say something isn’t good enough, then she has a suggestion on how to fix it. I love watching her finding her voice again in that area of creativity. The confidence is back (it was back within the first hour of rehearsals!).

Jules and I have a lot of respect for each other. We happen to be brother and sister and have that chemistry and connection, but we both respect each other as performers and artists. We’re proud of each other. Not to embarrass her (okay, I will), there have been times in my life where I’m down and she’ll send me a text: “Listen, you’re the most important man in my life besides Dad. I don’t know anybody like you, you’re the most incredible human being.” That’s really humbling coming from your sister. When we dance we don’t really even talk to each other; we just kind of do it. She throws herself into movements and I’ll catch her and hold her. We have that connection, that unspoken language when we dance. We haven’t toured like this since that first
DWTS
tour when she convinced me to come along for the ride. There’s no person I’d rather be on the road with than my sister. So we’re on this adventure together.

When you do so many different things, the plus is, you’re putting yourself out there. The minus is, you’re putting yourself out there. People ask me all the time if I like being stopped on the street by fans, and if it’s fun to be famous. I won’t lie: it can be a very good thing. Case in point: winning my Emmy for Outstanding Choreography in 2013. After the ceremony, I went to the Governor’s Ball to get the plaque put on the trophy. It’s pretty cool: They already have your name engraved, but you get to watch them put it on the base. Then we went to the HBO party and the AMC party, where all the
Breaking Bad
people were. Aaron Paul and Dean Norris were hanging out there. I was walking around with my trophy in hand and I felt pretty awkward. “No man,” Aaron told me. “Don’t feel stupid. This is the night you walk around with this thing. Any other night, it would be kind of weird and sad. But this night, you hold it high!” It was a cool night. We danced full-out. Normally when I go out, I don’t dance but I thought, Whatever, I’m going to dance my ass off and celebrate. Dean was a mad man on the dance floor. There was a moment when “We Are the Champions” came on and he took my Emmy and started fist-pumping with it. I know there are lots of pictures out there from the party, but they don’t do it justice! It was so much fun. And Dean was throwing down moves! He can
dance
. It was Breakdancing Bad!

Beyond the partying, the moment had a great deal of meaning for me. I didn’t just win the Emmy for myself; I won it for the show, and all the people who work so hard and all the years we’ve been doing it. I am truly a huge fan of all the other nominees, but it felt great to bring one home for
DWTS
.

If I’m ever tempted to let it get to my head, all I have to do is remember the first time I was recognized in public. I was with Jennie Garth, back in Season 3. She was way more famous than me (Derek Who?) and she was asked to the Eiffel Tower ceremony at the Paris Las Vegas hotel. They shut off half the strip and there were thousands of people outside the hotel lined up to see it. I was onstage supporting her, when I was suddenly hit with a wave of nausea. I knew instantly I had food poisoning from something I’d eaten earlier in the day. I knew if I didn’t get off the stage at that moment, I was going to throw up—and that would be the story on the evening news, not Jennie’s lighting!

I jumped off the stage and just wanted to get back to my room where I could vomit in peace. As I was racing through the hotel lobby, a few people stopped me. “Aren’t you Derek Hough from
Dancing with the Stars
?” I was trying to be polite, but I just kept eyeing garbage cans in case I couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“Yeah, thanks,” I said. I signed a few autographs and tried to push my way to the elevators.

“Wait! Derek! Can I get you to sign this?” More people started coming at me. I swear, I had to hold my breath so I wouldn’t hurl! When I finally got upstairs, I threw up thirty-two times. I was deathly ill. But somewhere, in that haze of hellish food poisoning, it hit me: This is pretty cool! People know who I am! But I’ve tried my hardest not to let that change me. I’m kind of a free spirit; what you see is what you get. Inside is still that crazy little boy who liked to bounce off his living room walls.

Which brings me to my very last leading lesson for you: Live now. Truthfully, it’s something I struggle with every day. Being a choreographer, I need to constantly envision the future—what a routine might look like before it’s ever danced. You see a blank dance floor; I see bodies moving across it in an intricately woven series of moves. I suppose this is a good thing for a guy who competes on
Dancing with the Stars
, but it’s not such a good thing for my well-being. That “forward thinking” began to bleed into my everyday life as well, and for a long time, I would find myself in a constant state of worry about the future. I was anxious and relatively unhappy considering all my successes, and I didn’t know why. The day would fly by and I wouldn’t even remember what I did, because I was just going through the motions. Then it dawned on me: I wasn’t in the moment. It’s good to have goals for the future and it’s good to learn from the past, but life is happening
now
. You cannot let it rush by you unseized or unacknowledged. You have to make a real, conscious effort to be in the present and not let your thoughts drift to other places and times. Your mind is an instrument, a tool. It is there to be used for specific tasks, and when the task is completed, you lay it down.

This is a tough thing for me. I’m an overthinker. Many of us are. My mind gets racing a thousand miles a minute and I get anxious about my work, my career, or where I need to be in thirty minutes. Every day I need to shut down this machine and simply
be still
.

Be aware of your breathing, really feel your breath going in, going out. Be aware of the feeling of the cloth on your shirt. Be aware of the grip on the steering wheel. Tell yourself—out loud—that the only thing that truly exists right now is this exact moment, and enjoy it, swim in it. Someone once said that your mind is like a raging river that’s full of debris, and when you’re floating in this river, you reach out and try to grab the branches and rocks. But what if you could climb onto the bank and watch the river? Suddenly you’re in a calm place.

Maybe it sounds like a cliché to say, “Stop and smell the roses,” so I’ll tell you this instead: “Stop and watch the sunset.” Just the other night, driving home in L.A., I was struck by how beautiful the sky was—a dark blue canvas painted with strokes of bright orange and red. It was truly one of the most glorious sunsets I’d ever seen. I was stuck in traffic, worrying about one thing or another, and I just gazed out the window and drank it in. I let it fill my soul and inspire me. The world stopped revolving for just that split second, and my mind was still and calm.

And to think, I could have missed it.

REFLECTING ON DEREK

“While working with Derek, Meryl and I learned some really great steps and combinations of steps that we could use in our Olympic short dance. He sent us in a great direction for when we needed to figure out where we wanted to take the program. Beyond the amazing ballroom steps that we worked on with Derek, I think we learned a lot about how to show our love of dance through our movements by watching Derek. His zest for life really comes through when he dances, and that was something we wanted to capture as well. Derek helped us win the Olympic gold medal by helping to set us up with an Olympic gold medal–worthy short dance, and by being a great inspiration for how to show our passion through our movements.”

—CHARLIE WHITE