Taking the Lead: Lessons From a Life in Motion (13 page)

But I realized the damage it was doing and how it was holding me back. If I smoked a pack a day, I couldn’t hit the high notes. When I needed to take a deep breath, it wasn’t there for me. It was preventing me from giving the best performance I knew I could give. So just like that I made a decision: no more. No agonizing, no weaning myself off, no going back. I learned in school that the word
decide
comes from the Latin word that means “to cut off.” So that’s what I did; I cut myself off from smoking. I trained my brain to associate the act of lighting up with pain, embarrassment, and failure. No more relaxation, no more comfort, no more camaraderie. Cigarettes became a symbol for all my anxiety. I would envision my voice cracking in front of an audience, then I’d let that feeling of humiliation and disappointment wash over me. It was the best deterrent, one that scared me a hell of a lot more than the potential health risks my family had pointed out for years. If this was what smoking might get me, I didn’t want it.

So that was it. I tossed out my last pack and didn’t look back. I replaced my daily smoking ritual with a new one: I drank hot herbal tea and let it coat my vocal cords and relax me. It was like I flipped a switch in my brain, turning the image of a cigarette from good to evil. Besides the physical benefits (no more wheezing; no more cracking on the high notes), I felt emotionally recharged. The high I got from beating my addiction replaced the high I got from nicotine. Even better, I did it all by myself. I made the conscious choice to break free. And when the curtain rose night after night, I never doubted I could do it. I’d beaten one of my demons, and I was ready to tackle any others that wanted to go a round with me.

LEADING LESSONS

Stretch your legs
.

By this I mean you need to let go of the structure and rigidity of your life and do something different. There’s a saying: You don’t have to be great to start, but you have to start to be great. When I signed on to do
Footloose
, I learned about commitment on a whole new level. The tools I had called upon in the past to help me win dance competitions were not the ones I needed now. I had to find new ways to win at this as well. I had to let go of what had worked before and figure out new solutions. Flexibility is something all leaders need in their tool belt—the ability to roll with things, to shift gears, to approach something in a new and different way. The only thing certain in life is that life isn’t certain. Leaders know this, expect it, and change their hearts and heads to adapt to the situation.

Addiction is a choice
.

I don’t care how much you think you need cigarettes, food, alcohol, drugs, whatever—the point is you are choosing to need those things. I truly believe that. You are choosing to relinquish your power and let a substance or a habit control you. To take the lead in your life, you have to decide what’s important. For me, it was a no-brainer. My voice was more important to me than my need to smoke. People ask me all the time how I kicked the habit. As I wrote, I just visualized smoking as a negative; I attached that label to it and I attached pain to it. I had all these embarrassing thoughts in my head about losing my voice onstage, and smoking was always the cause of it. That was my leverage. Find yours. What is your addiction doing to hold you back? Once you align that to the addiction, it reprograms your brain. I used to smoke a pack a day, and now when I’m around someone who smokes, I can’t stand the smell. I will never smoke again. But I knew I couldn’t just cut back; I had to quit cold turkey. When I found that self-discipline, my confidence soared. We often think of invoking discipline as a chore, but really, it’s the ultimate freedom. It’s liberating to take the power into your hands. For me the reward was complete control and freedom in the same breath.

If you want something, ask for it
.

Another thing I learned while living with the Ballases was that if you want love or affection, sometimes you’ve just got to ask for it. This is tough for a lot of people. As adults, the fear of rejection or embarrassment often stops the words before you ever utter them. But leaders aren’t afraid to ask for what they want and need. Even if someone shoots you down, you’ve put it out there in the universe. I’d tease Nan or Shirley: “I’m feeling kind of down today, get over here and give me a hug, dammit.” And they did. The people who love you want to come through for you; you just sometimes need to make that easier by saying what you need. It isn’t selfish or bossy or demanding. It’s respecting yourself and your worth. I loved the freedom of not being afraid to just ask for something instead of waiting and being disappointed if it never came. Asking for something is simply the best way to ensure that you eventually get it.

REFLECTING ON DEREK

“Derek taught me to never stop striving to be your best! There isn’t one day that I worked with Derek or spent time with him that he didn’t want to do or be his best. He would arrive at warm-up early to do extra push-ups and sit-ups and would perform every night as if it were the last. Even recently when we went to Disneyland he made sure that we had the best time; there wasn’t a ride that we didn’t go on and there was always a certain way to approach a ride to get the maximum thrill out of it. Derek is a true friend and the ultimate professional and it was pleasure to have worked with him in
Footloose
. His direction, presence, charisma, and belief are the things that I love most about my buddy. Any dream big or small is a reality in his world, and since I’ve known him, it’s been a reality in my world. He is a true gentleman who changes people’s outlook on life for the better.”

—GIOVANNI SPANO

REACHING FOR THE STARS

W
HEN I FINISHED
Footloose
in the West End, I was utterly exhausted. I felt like I had crossed the finish line in a marathon, and all I wanted to do was go home, put my feet up, and veg. I also wanted to see my family—it had been nearly nine months. Idaho and my grandma and grandpa were my first stop, then Utah. I was enjoying catching up, filling them in about the show, when Julianne called me.

“Hey, D. I’m doing this tour called
Dancing with the Stars
and they need another boy dancer.” This was the tour right after Season 3, the first time they had ever done a tour following the season. Cheryl Burke and Drew Lachey were going to do their whole “Ride a Cowboy” freestyle, and the two Joeys—McIntyre and Lawrence—along with Lisa Rinna and Harry Hamlin and Willa Ford—were all signed on as well. The tour would take them through thirty-eight venues, starting in San Diego and ending in Atlantic City.

“Well?” Julianne asked me. “What do you say?”

“Absolutely not.” I had just killed myself for the past year and a half, and the last thing I wanted to do was to go dance on this tour.

Jules was persistent. “It’s going to be all big arenas,” she tried to convince me. “And five-star hotels. We’re going to be traveling in rock star buses!”

I mulled it over. It did sound like a pretty sweet gig, but what really convinced me was my sister’s honesty: “I don’t want to go out on tour alone.” She guilted me into it.

So off we went—Jules was just eighteen, but they had hired her as a company dancer. I was one of the background dancers, which for once in my life was just fine by me. Let me fade into the woodwork for a few months. I had had plenty of the spotlight doing
Footloose;
I was comfortable letting someone else shine. It was a blast—especially being with Julianne again—and when we wrapped, I headed back to England. Julianne was offered a spot as one of the pros on
Dancing with the Stars
Season 4. I wound up going to L.A. to do a guest spot with her: we did a groovy little number in week 6 to Joss Stone singing “Super Duper Love.” We choreographed it in a few hours and it was the first time we really danced together.

After the show, one of the producers, Rob Wade, came up to me backstage. “Hey, Derek. Great job. You have any interest in joining us next season?”

I didn’t even need a minute to think it over. “Nope,” I replied. “Thanks, but it’s not really what I want to do.”

Back I went to England. Mark and I were traveling around with our band, Almost Amy, doing the grind. We were focused on the music, and we were very much a team. I didn’t want to just go off to America without him. A few months passed and my phone rang again. We were still living with the Ballases, but in a new house. Corky and Shirley eventually divorced, and now we were living with just Shirley. The producers were still interested in me. Like Julianne, they seemed to have a hard time taking no for an answer.

I talked to Mark about it. I knew it would be a big transition—relocating my life from London to America. While I was mulling it over, Mark got a call, too. He had sent in an audition tape and they were interested in him as well.

“Dude, if we’re going to do this, then let’s do it together,” I told him. So that was it. We literally just packed our guitars and one suitcase apiece, and boarded a plane. I was aware that being on a live TV show in front of millions of people every week would likely change my life forever. I went into it very excited but also nervous. I knew a lot of the pros already through the ballroom circles, and I knew how good they were. I was coming in as a world youth champion—which is a big step below being a champion in the amateur or professional divisions. But on
DWTS
, the playing field was leveled. We were all starting from scratch, not knowing how good—or bad—our partners would be on that first day, and how much work we would need to do to shape them up. No matter how good we were, our partners were half of the equation.

I landed at LAX and went straight to Jennie Garth’s house. I knew who she was from
Beverly Hills, 90210
(I used to watch it and had a crush on her), but I kind of still pictured her as Kelly, the blond, spoiled teenage princess—not a married mother of three. She greeted me with a baby on her hip. I don’t think I was what she bargained for, either. I had recently lost some weight and I looked waif-thin and much younger than twenty-two. She gave me the once-over, and I could read her mind: “Who is this little boy who’s supposed to teach me? I’ve been watching the show for a couple of seasons and I’ve never seen him before. They gave me a novice
and
a child?” But she was polite and shook my hand. “Well, you’re just a cute little thing! You look like you’re twelve!”

I was mortified. I laid it out for her. “Look, I’ve never danced with someone who is a beginner and I’ve never taught someone who didn’t know how to dance. But I’m game if you are. I want to win this. Do you?”

She nodded, and we made a pact. We’d both give it our all. But I was concerned right out of the gate that Jennie lacked confidence. “I’m worried I’m going to pass out on live television,” she told me. I was still learning a lot at that point, too. I admitted I was really nervous as well—I was still finding my way. Thankfully, Jennie was graceful and a quick learner. But I knew I had a lot to prove. I was the new kid, so I never felt entitled. I had to earn my place there.

When it came time for the first live shows, Jennie was a basket case. “Nerves are good,” I told her. “It shows that you care.” It was a huge moment. During our second routine, the absolute worst thing that could happen did. I stepped on her dress and we both fell down—as Len put it—on our bums. As if that weren’t embarrassing enough, they had to replay it in slow-mo while they interviewed us.

If Jennie was a wreck
before
that week, she was worse after it. But I tried to make her understand, this wasn’t just about mastering the steps. She had to stop doubting herself. The fear was what was holding her back from achieving her true potential. “Listen, your worst nightmare happened. That’s it. We got it out of the way. Shit, we did it—and guess what? Now we have an opportunity to come back next week and redeem ourselves and kick butt.”

Which is exactly what we did. For week 3, we did a fierce tango. Jennie wore a slinky black sequin dress and I wore a black vest and tie, no jacket. The choreography was very complicated—lots of staccato moves, dips, twirls, and quick footwork. We had something to prove, so there was no playing it safe. Len called it “sharp and tangy like a pickle.” Carrie Ann said we came back with a vengeance, and Bruno said we danced with fury. We got a 26 out of 30, a huge comeback from the week before. You fall down, and you get back up—that’s the lesson I wanted Jennie to take away from this experience. Instead of allowing all that anger and angst to eat you up inside, channel it into the dance. Use that energy in a positive way instead of a negative one.

We danced for a total of nine weeks, straight through to the semifinals—and nabbed a perfect 10 from the judges along the way. It was either us or Hélio Castroneves and Julianne who were going home (cue the scary music). When they said our names, the audience gave us a standing ovation. We were both disappointed, not just that we hadn’t won, but that the experience was all over. I knew I would miss Jennie. I came to think of her as a big sister, and I’d gotten used to her being in my life every day for the past few months. She is the most amazing, funny lady, and I wouldn’t have wanted my first experience on
Dancing with the Stars
to be with anyone else. I was so proud of her transformation in those few months we worked together, and she changed me, too. I now knew I wanted to continue on
DWTS
. I wanted not just to take home that Mirror Ball trophy (that season it went to Julianne and Hélio, so at least it was a Hough that won), but to make a difference in someone’s life.

Each and every one of my partners is different, but my approach is the same. At the beginning of the season, it’s my job to make them as comfortable as possible. I have to break the ice and get them to trust me. I dance a little bit and I have them dance. I hold their hands and we make a physical connection. I let them feel the resistance of being with a partner, the push-pull. Sometimes I act goofy and joke around so they don’t take it too seriously. There’s usually a lot of embarrassment or even cursing: “Shit! Why can’t I get this right?” I get it; I understand when you have high standards for yourself. It’s hard to suck at anything, even something so alien and brand new. Nicole Scherzinger told me right off the bat that she was a perfectionist and a workaholic. “You have to allow yourself to
not
be good,” I told her. “Just have fun with it. When you do, the energy shifts and you figure it out.”