Giving up the day job, yeah!(?)
One of my followers asked me recently if I have any wisdom to pass along about giving up full-time work as a ‘wage slave’ so they would have more time to pursue their passion. A rosy future writing music for a living is the dream, huh?
Simplify your life.
We live in a climate of instant gratification and lustful consumerism. We have too much stuff. We need to downsize, organize, clear out, sort. Find simple (and cheap) ways to entertain, to play. Get rid of the junk, tidy the closets, set-up your office/studio. A great resource for this is David Allen’s “Getting Things Done”. Also look at where you live, how much you are paying in rent/mortgage, and assess whether you could live more simply and cheaply elsewhere.
Get serious about your finances.
-pay off your debts: One of the biggest mistakes I made in my journey from full-time to part-time to fully self-employed was… I didn’t pay off my debts first. Don’t even think of resigning your job until you’ve paid off (and cut up) all your credit cards, paid back any family members, sorted out that bank loan, etc. If you have more than one credit card, save the one with the lowest interest rate, only use it for travel or business expenses, and pay it off monthly.
-set up and maintain a monthly budget: you need to set yourself up to win. That means getting control of your spending, paying off debts, and saving for business trips, music conferences, new instruments, repairs, vacations, etc. As a self-employed person you are not going to be getting a bi-weekly paycheque. If you don’t know how to manage your cash flow effectively, you’re going to run into trouble, fast.
-don’t forget insurance. You’ll need home insurance, business insurance (if folks are coming to your studio), can you access some sort of health insurance. You might also think of life insurance and/or crisis insurance. Who will pay your bills if you get ill and can’t work for any length of time? You get no sick pay or holiday pay as a self-employed person.
-save. Include savings as part of your budget, not just for yearly expenses like vacation or attending a music conference, but, they say, we all need to have a minimum of 3 months wages in the bank to support us should something go wrong. Put this in a separate account that you don’t touch.
-think about what you need to support your business. Business cards? Computer? Recording equipment? External back-up? Get yourself set-up with the basics before you lose the paycheque. Remember to keep it simple, though.
Plan your transition.
Unless you have another sources of income that can sustain you, my best suggestion is to move slowly from full-time to half-time to part-time to occasional contract work. I went from 40 hours to 20 hours, then dropped to about 12 hours a week, over the course of 6 years. The part-time jobs paid my rent while I grew my studio.
Get educated.
You’ll be running a business. It’s not a corporation, but you will need to keep your books, file your taxes, market yourself effectively. Write yourself up a business plan with goals, read the books, attend the classes – whatever you need to do to get yourself ready to manage your studio.
Flex your marketing gene.
Sign up for the newsletters put out by folks like Ariel Hyatt & Bob Baker. Figure out who you are, what your niche market is, how you are going to attract clients.
Grow your network.
This is part of marketing, I suppose, but for me it’s more about community, about having a ‘tribe’. I enjoy meeting and connecting with other creative people on the same path. We share intel, we commiserate about things that don’t go well, and celebrate each other’s successes.
Get real.
Don’t assume that not working a ‘day job’ is going to be easy. You are going to have to be chief cook and bottlewasher. You are going to have to organize your own schedule, manage your own time, plan your financial life around intermittent income, buy the groceries, cook the food, clean the place, get the business cards, answer the emails. You will be head composer and CEO of housekeeping and general dogsbody. You will have days with little do followed by til-three-in-the-morning franticness.
You will go from working 40 hours a week with a steady paycheque for someone else, to working 24 hours a day, seven days a week, for an income that ebbs & flows, and for the most disorganized, irritating but talented boss you’ve ever had: you.
Going beyond the safety barrier
Positivity. Do you get ‘more’ if you are ‘up’ and ‘less’ if you are ‘down’? Dunno. I think so. I think when we are down, when we are negative, we send out vibes that are closed, dark, dreary. Yet, at the same time, I think it’s natural that there is an ebb and flow of light and dark in our lives. It’s all about balance, I think. Finding things to be grateful for. Feeling that we have a purpose in what we do or who we are. At least that’s how I feel as an artist/teacher/composer/human.
If what I do or say or share is the catalyst for someone else’s hope or inspiration, then my purpose is fulfilled in that moment. If I can witness to the process of someone else’s journey, then my purpose is fulfilled in that moment. As I watch my students struggle with their doubts and programming, I see myself reflected in them. And that has been one of the greatest foundations to my healing from shyness. As I began to work with my first students, I began to see that I was not alone. That I was not an alien. That a great many people struggle with self-esteem and stage fright. That many people have had their voices silenced in profound ways.
One gentleman, when 7 or 8, was singing with his class in school. In front of everyone, the teacher told him that he couldn’t sing and he should just mouth the words. Shamed in front of his peers, snickered at, sitting on the sidelines while everyone else participated in music… he grew up to be someone who could not even sing happy birthday in a group of friends, or sing a hymn at church. And he is not alone. At seven years old, when the brain is still developing and vocal chords are not fully developed, some of my students were told they should not and could not sing.
Others experience silencing without direct application to singing. Perhaps they were consistently criticized at home. They were told that they were flawed. They were told, if they couldn’t be perfect at something, they should not attempt it. They were not allowed to start and grow through a process of learning. Adult competency was expected of inaccurate, growing, innocent children.
I don’t know where this harsh view of others came from, really. But we integrate all these messages and repeat them to ourselves on a daily basis. Who am I kidding, I can’t learn to do this, I am too old, etc etc. Dr Wayne Dyer [ http://www.drwaynedyer.com/ ] has a new book out, called ‘Excuses Begone’ where he talks about this issue. Julia Cameron, in “The Artist’s Way” talks about identifying the ‘blurts’ we tell ourselves, and turning them around.
All I know is… if you stick to it, if you are willing to keep going even when everything in you screams that you are useless, it’s hopeless, you’re too old, etc etc etc… then you will come out the other side. You will rise above your programming. You will become the architect of your own life. You will learn to sing on key. You will write that book, that album, take that trip.
It will only be one step on a journey of thousands of steps. But every step forward you take, shines a light for others. Gives hope to those struggling with the same things. Your positive forward motion creates a path for others to follow. Even if you never know you’ve been one of the catalysts for their evolution. And perhaps that is your purpose. To grow beyond what is safe and what is known. To challenge and explore your own ‘final frontier’. And find there is more in you and of you than you ever dreamed could be possible.
Thanks, but no, thanks
I have a very good songwriting friend from the States. Whenever he’s angry because one of his tracks was turned down… I sympathize with him. Of course. As he sympathizes with me. We all know how it feels. But sometimes I’ll remind him that, in the grand scheme of things, having a track rejected isn’t the end of the world. I’ll remind him of his wife and kids, of what he has that’s good, the things that really matter.
Not that our creations aren’t important. But one rejection really doesn’t add up to a tragedy. It’s one blimp on the road to getting better, or submitting more effectively, or understanding what it is that we are pitching (’that sounds more country than rock’). It’s one more hearing from someone with a discerning ear who felt it wasn’t a fit in some way.
Hard to take, but part of the reality of life. We send out resumes, we never get a call. We go for an interview, they don’t call us back. We audition the very best we can, we don’t get the part. We enter our visual art in a juried show and we don’t make it. We send our query letters to magazines and get rejection letters. We submit our book proposals and manuscripts, and wait for the letter that says we’ve been turned down.
No one said it would be easy to be an artist, eh? The key is, I think, to separate your ‘product’ from yourself. If your work needs work, then it needs work. That doesn’t take any value away from the Self. It just means your art is, at present, or in this instance, not what was required. Perhaps another gatekeeper will feel a different way. Perhaps you need to target a different market. Perhaps you have something you need to learn.
The problem comes when we take all those rejections and put them in a pile. We keep building up our resentment, we keep fanning the flames of our anger. We feel hard done by. We get bitter. Our reaction to one rejection is then accompanied by all the baggage. Our negative attitude shuts us down, or shuts us out. We stop being willing to listen or to admit that we might need to move on from where we are. Not that it isn’t hard, when we have years of experience, to feel that our work isn’t being given the recognition we would wish.
Really, we are all on a journey. Not one of us, even if we have gold records or published books or signed deals or pictures that have sold – not one of us has “arrived”. We are simply one step further down the path of artistry and human development. Our art reflects our current stage of evolution. In that respect, it has to be done for art’s sake first.
I don’t write to make money. I write to express. I write to illustrate a story with sound or with words, or both. I write to communicate something within me to others, hoping they might understand my language. Even when I am specifically writing for a particular opportunity that has guidelines and ‘something that sounds like blank’ – I’m always interpreting that as Vikki Flawith. I submit what I have created, and, in a way, it’s saying, to whoever listens to it, ‘here’s where I am right now’.
I’m trusting that if I listen to what I’m being told, if I’m willing to learn, if I acquire new skills, if I am constantly practicing, then every piece of music I create is founded upon the past experiences I have built to support it. Every performance I sing has a foundation in past practice, rehearsal and lessons. Therefore, the track I create today should be superior to the track I created 6 months ago. If it isn’t, I haven’t been moving forward.
If we work, day by day, with deliberation, then success is knowing that we are better today than we were yesterday. If we continue to work in this way, I believe that recognition, and money, will come to us.
Perhaps not the way we have envisioned though. Perhaps we won’t have a hit song recorded by a major artist. But perhaps we will have credits on local artists’ CDs. Perhaps we won’t have a song in a major movie, but we will have underscore in an indie film. There are a myriad of ways the universe can lead us if we are willing to be open.
I never expected, it never occurred to me, I never even dreamed that I would one day be teaching shy singers how to find their voice, and I certainly never dreamed that I would be composing music for film/tv, or gigging regularly at local restaurants. Or writing & producing my own CD. I just followed the path… wanting to be in the music… and here I am, doing my thing. So, yeah, I get tracks turned down. I get songs rejected. I audition and don’t make the cut. But it is all grist for the mill.
“The essence of life is finding something you really love and then making the daily experience worthwhile.” – Denis Waitley
Life isn’t ‘over there’ or ‘after this’
“Don’t ask yourself what the world needs, ask yourself what makes you come alive. And then go and do that. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.” – Howard Washington Thurman
For some reason this reminds me of an episode of Star Trek the Next Generation. The Enterprise finds an alien and gives them assistance because the alien’s ship is in trouble. They begin a relationship with this new friend. Then a battle ship shows up, demanding the return of the alien. Apparently there’s a huge taboo being broken. The society has made it a rule that no member can search for or attain a new level of being. But the Enterprise gives the alien sanctuary, and watches as the alien evolves from physical being into a beautiful shimmering light. Not dangerous, not blasphemous, but a natural function of growth and emancipation. All the energy that society put into fighting against this change had been wasted.
And so, it seems, it is with us. I wonder what it is within me that resists the light, resists the aliveness that comes from doing the thing that makes me feel that I vibrate with life. What is the weight inside that pulls me down, feeds me negative thoughts, distracts me from my purpose, encourages procrastination. It feels dark. It feels dark and heavy and despondent. It feels nagging and contrary. It feels trapped, airless, devoid of movement.
I think it’s there for me to struggle against. I think it’s there for me to recognize. I think it’s there for me to look at and resist so that I grow into the light.
The strange thing is, when you do the thing that makes you feel alive, that darkness is held at bay. When you are actively engaged in playing an instrument, singing a song, painting a picture, writing your novel, composing music, devising a recipe, reorganizing your house, decorating your living room, planting your garden, penning a poem, learning your lines, filming your short, taking photographs, designing a house…. you are in the light.
My students feel this. It takes time to understand. It takes time to really get it. But when everything is working right, when one is singing freely, easily, on pitch and totally present with the voice… it feels light and easy. It feels like nothing. But it’s everything. It’s you, in the moment, alive and vibrating with your own beautiful sound. It’s stunning.
We need these moments in our lives, daily if we can. Because we are not meant to live in the dark. Because we need to do the things that make us feel life is worthwhile. And the consciousness that is willing to do the work to find this place is the catalyst for change, both within and without.
Life isn’t ‘over there’ or ‘after this’ or ‘when I get that’. It’s shimmering in the moment as we do the thing that makes us feel beautifully alive.
[Recommended reading: “The New Earth” by Eckhart Tolle]
Re-programming your Self
I love getting feedback on my blog. I admit it. I like hearing from people of all ages and all walks of life. My readers and I tend to have the same aspiration: to be more creative, or to be more inspired, and accomplish something we dream of. Many of my readers also resonate with the idea of being a ‘shy singer’ or a ‘shy person’. I’ve had a couple of people write to me and say that they know what it’s like to be shy… but, they add, ‘you can get over that.’
Yes. You can. I am an example of how you can. But, I also want to say that many of us are so deeply programmed as ‘shy’ that we feel like social misfits who have no place in the world. I was so introverted that I simply wanted to be invisible. I had no social skills and felt so incredibly stupid when having to make small talk in the coffee room at work or if I met someone I knew on the street. I felt I was inherently flawed and that everything I did was simply not good enough and never would be. I felt that I had nothing to offer the world and was taking up valuable space.
It was only when I began to walk the path towards a dream that I’d had since I was 5 or 6 years old… that things began to change. That change was slow and gradual. It happened over time, as I practiced an art form. That, to me, is the secret of re-writing your own program. The answer to ‘how do I change’, is to take action.
Small actions. Baby steps.Repeatedly. Consistently. I practiced twice a day five days a week for 8 years, and every time I practiced I was growing my awareness of how I thought and how I related to my own voice. This perspective was vital to my self-emancipation. As I began to hear what I said to myself about my singing, I also began to hear how what I said to myself about my Self. And I was shocked. At one point I was journaling daily, and tended to write about 10 pages a day. I filled 3 of those big 300-page notebooks in less than a month. At the end of that month, when I looked through everything I’d written, I was stunned to realize just how negative my thoughts were, all the time. I was either worried or guilty or frustrated or entangled in some sort of procrastination. No wonder I couldn’t free my voice when all my thoughts were so anxious.
That awakening helped me to move forward a little more. Each step along the way, when change occurred, I could look back and see that it had been with me for awhile, tapping me on the shoulder, waiting patiently for me to open to it. By the time I embraced it, it felt like a natural step in the right direction.
There is a little story that I like to tell my students. I read it in a newspaper once, and I think it’s very true to our process.
There is a stone cutter, making a tool. He has his hammer rock, and the stone he is working on. On his one thousandth blow, the stone splits to a perfect edge. And he knows that that one blow didn’t do it. It was all the blows that went before.
~ when the world says ‘no’ – again
“Success seems to be largely a matter of hanging on after others have let go.” ~William Feather
It’s human nature to complain. Rejection is a given in most creative modalities. Auditions, query letters, peer review, grant applications, book proposals, music submissions – chances are we are going to get rejected on a regular basis. That’s a fact. The question is, how are we going to deal with it?
It isn’t easy. I can’t say I don’t get upset when I receive the email or the letter that says, ‘no thanks.’ In fact, I can honestly say that when I first started submitting music to various opportunities, I was absolutely furious every time I got a rejection. I would swear a little, and throw the results into a drawer somewhere, slamming it shut and stomping away.
‘What the hell are those people thinking? Can’t they hear the potential in my work? What’s wrong with their ears? What do they mean my melodies are too meandering and my lyrics are too poetic? Can’t they feel the emotion I’m expressing here? Idiots!!!’
After two or three days, I’d be thinking about what they said, and I’d go back to the drawer and read it again. I’d try to see what they were talking about, I’d try to understand. And I’d often say, ‘oh. I can fix that.’ I’d be inspired to try to change the lyrics or tighten up the melody or shorten the song.
That, in my opinion, is the secret to my success. I’ve been willing to listen. I’ve been willing to at least consider feedback. I’ve tried – after calming down – to open my mind to the possibility that I need to learn more about the craft of songwriting. And really that would apply to any creative thing we do. Singing, painting, writing, composing, acting, etc. Our work will, in many cases, be rejected on a consistent basis. Sometimes because it’s not a fit, not what they were looking for. And sometimes, because, in the opinion of the ‘gatekeeper’, it didn’t reflect the required level of skill.
I’ve been to many an audition where I didn’t get the part, and I’ve had starring roles. I’ve had query letters rejected by magazines, and I’ve been published. I’ve submitted my art to juries and been turned down, and I’ve had my work in shows. I’ve submitted countless songs and instrumentals to opportunities in the music industry and been returned, rejected… and I’ve signed tracks with music publishers and music libraries.
I’ve been knocked over more times than you can count, but I refuse to give up. If I need to learn more about my art form, if I need to focus on craft, if I need to take lessons, if I need to rethink my approach – whatever I have to do to get to the next level, I am willing to listen and learn from each experience, positive or negative.
I know my skill level as a composer is growing because the percentage of rejections has dropped to roughly half. I may not change a track because it was rejected, but I am willing to take that knowledge into the next composition. I may not agree the lyrics are too poetic, but maybe I need to rethink the genre – poetic lyrics might work better for rock or electronica than country.
I still am not happy when my work is turned down, but I am more able to deal with it as part of the reality of being an artist. The key is to separate that rejection from my worth as a creative human being. I am not my job, I am not my work.
As creative artists we have to believe in ourselves, yet be willing to learn; we need to forge new paths, but be willing bring craft along for the ride. And sometimes, it just takes determination and perseverance in the face of continued rejection. Many best-selling books were turned down several times before being published. Many famous actors lost out on parts before they got that signature role. Many singers are told they don’t have what it takes and then go out and prove the ‘experts’ wrong.
To be an artist who is growing and evolving, I think we need equal amounts of humility, innovation, craft, willingness and stick-to-it-ness.
Last word: I remember a talented friend of mine auditioning for a part in a play being put on by the Vancouver Playhouse. He was an Equity member (meaning, a professional), he read for the part, they loved him. But they didn’t cast him… because the costume they had was for someone much taller.
That’s life.
tearing down walls
In my work with ‘shy singers’ it seems to me that we often come to a place where the barrier between the person and the voice is ‘visible’. We start talking about it. It’s like, this medieval-thick wall, three or four feet deep, that stands between the singer and the singing. I know this wall very well. It took me about six or seven years of voice training to be able to see it. It was the slow growth of my conscious awareness (and a wonderfully intuitive teacher) that gave me the eyes to comprehend the limitations I had integrated. Those limitations were like big bricks in the wall that kept me prisoner for so long.
We can discuss why that wall is there, I’m not sure if that’s a necessary thing, but it’s good to think about it and ponder it. It seems to me it is a conglomeration of experience, precedence, programming, self-identity, and self-preservation. At some point, for some reason, we needed to protect ourselves. At some point, we felt that we were in danger. And so we added a brick to the wall. Each experience assisted us in building the wall stronger.
On our creative journey, the closer we get to breaking through that wall, the stronger that thing fights us for its existence. It’s typically at this point where we start thinking about stopping. We’ve likely been struggling with keeping a commitment to practicing our artform… now, with the wall in our face, we feel like giving up entirely.
The voice in our head is very active. “Who am I kidding anyway? Why does it have to be so hard? I understand intellectually what is required, but it feels like the body is not cooperating. Everything I do is terrible. Perhaps I’m just not cut out to be a singer (actor, writer, painter, composer, etc).”
What I’ve learned, from my own process, and from sharing in the journey of my students, is that this is a major turning point. This is the time when the choice is made to go forward, and change… or stay as we are. It’s a tough moment. Often we feel grief or tremendous reluctance. It’s always hard for me as a teacher when I see someone face this wall… and decide to turn away. But I know I have to accept that they aren’t ready. Whatever they are feeling and thinking becomes a ‘stop’ sign. And I have to yield to their choice.
Yet, I have experienced, time and time again, what happens when we make the choice to keep going. It’s scary because we are going to walk a new path. We are going to go someplace we have never been. But it’s also a slow, easy path, made for walking, made for enjoying the scenery. If we trust the process, if we have faith that our creativity and passion for music (or whatever art form we are pursuing) means something, we will make progress. And, in time, when we look back, we realize that… the voice we found was really just around the corner from that ‘stop’ sign. We realize… if we had given up, we never would have discovered it. Our willingness to explore the possibilities was a catalyst for changing our programming.
I picture this emancipation like this… I am walking in a forest of dead trees. There is no light where I am, but I can see it ahead of me. It’s only a few feet away. All I have to do is keep walking. But the ego, the thing inside of me that feeds on negativity, the thing inside of me that has a vested interest in me staying where I am, it manifests as little monsters that hang on my legs as I try to move forward. They shout all the typical blurts I tell myself (‘who are you kidding, you are too old, nobody cares, what’s the difference, it’s too hard, you aren’t good enough’). I struggle to keep going. Finally I reach the light and it shines brightly on me. The little monsters fall away with mouths wide open in surprise. I walk into the light and I am in a fragrant meadow. It is warm and welcoming. I wonder why I resisted coming here.
what makes you think you can sing?
Talent – “A marked innate ability, as for artistic accomplishment.”
Really? And how does one know if one has ‘innate’ ability? Are we born being able to read? Are we born being able to write? If no one spoke a word to us, would we ever learn to talk? I don’t think so. Obviously most of us have the ability to learn to read, write and speak. So why do we tell ourselves that singers have to be ‘born with it’ as though it’s a skill that can’t be learned? It’s an easy way to avoid the artist process, that’s why.
Our society is so interesting. We follow actors on twitter, and flock to the movie theatres, we listen to radio, download stuff to our ipods, read blogs, catch every episode of Lost… enjoy watching the Grammy’s and the Oscars… we are great consumers of art. Yet most of us see the act of doing or producing art to be very much beyond us. Especially when it comes to singing.
I’ve had this discussion many times and the next thing that usually comes up is the example of dreadful singers on American Idol auditions. Yes, there are some that definitely sing as badly as possible to get on television. But there are others who clearly believe that they have a voice; they are stunned and often devastated to be told they are horrible singers who can’t carry a tune. What about those people? They can’t sing, can they?
Let’s put together these circumstances. You got up at 3 am to get down to the area to get in line. You’ve been out in the open air for hours. You are running low on sleep. You’ve been eating fast food and drinking pop. You’ve been talking to everyone in line around you. You’ve been screaming for the camera when it comes by. Then you get into the arena. There’s a lot of noise. You have to speak up to be heard. You try to maintain your level of excitement but you’re flagging. You get moved to another room. Your time in front of the judges is coming. This is the most important audition of your life. You keep chatting with everyone around you and yelling for joy when someone gets a gold ticket. Finally it’s your turn. The camera is now on you. They interview you a bit. They film you going into the audition. Now you get to sing.
You’re tired. It’s been a very long day. You haven’t had enough sleep. But it’s your moment. Everything is riding on the next two minutes. You have to do well. You have to win over those four people, including the sardonic Simon Cowell. But you’re vocally exhausted from talking and yelling. You say something stupid and grimace to yourself. You announce the name of your song and you begin to sing it. Your throat is tight and dry. Simon’s eyes are on you. He doesn’t look impressed. You can barely breathe, knowing this performance might be broadcast to millions of people. But it’s your dream, to be a singer. They vote, they say no. Simon says you shouldn’t give up your day job. You leave in tears.
Is that a fair test of ability? It’s really just an endurance test. The sensible ones don’t talk at all. Maybe even get someone else to stand in for them while they go rest and warm-up in the hotel room. The sensible ones eat healthy food and stay hydrated. The sensible ones have been working on singing for at least a year or more, with a good voice teacher, and/or in a choir or other group. The sensible ones also play an instrument and perhaps even have worked on songwriting. The sensible ones get some experience performing and recording before facing the challenge of competition.
It’s very easy to have a dream. But the real truth is that people who make it in any walk of life usually have to work at it, for a very long time. Singing scales, every day. Working with a vocal coach, every week. Taking dance classes so they can stand tall and move with grace. Singing at open mics and coffee houses and birthday parties – anywhere they can get experience.
Let’s find another example. A 7-year old child, whose brain is still developing, who can barely read, is asked to sing with the rest of the class. She sings loudly off key. In this instance, the repeated act of singing in a group will eventually lead to the brain to develop the complex mathematical skill of matching pitches. But instead of allowing the experience of singing in a group, over time, to be integrated so that the child sings correctly with the rest of the class… that child is asked to stand in front of the group and made to sing alone. They are told in front of the group that they can’t sing. They are told they must sit out of the class, or that they can still be in the group but must only mouth the words. That one embarrasing experience puts an end to any musical aspirations they have. They avoid singing for the rest of their lives. Or at least until they are in their 40s and the desire to be in the music brings them to my studio. Can they be helped?
Yes, I believe that anyone who can talk can also sing. If they are willing to do the work. Even if they sing off-key to start. I know because I work with tone deaf singers and every single one of them has learned to sing on pitch. The key is process. The key is consistently thinking about and working on the art form. The key is understanding the instrument and becoming aware of the subtle ways we think about ourselves that interfere in the natural activity of singing. The innate ability to sing is within each of us. Simply put, everyone can sing because – unless there is a physiological challenge – we were made to sing.
Does that mean we each have what it takes to be a professional singer? Maybe. No one can decide that for you. Only you. Only you can get up every day and work with your instrument, use it to express something in a unique and interesting way. Only you can want to be aware of habits that inhibit you and then want to work for as long as it takes to change them. Only you can dedicate the days and weeks and months and years to the act of something that gives you joy and lights you up inside.
Personally, I believe that if you do that work, you will find a way to live your dream. It may not be as a winner of American Idol. If you are open to the process and follow your path, you could end up doing things that were so far outside the possibilities that you never even thought of them at all. Like singing a season with a professional opera company. Like becoming a voice teacher. Like learning how to write and produce music for film & television. And then writing about those experiences in a blog.
finding your own voice
We hear that phrase all over the place. It says that you need to speak or write as an individual, reach within and bring out what’s inside. But what if your voice has been silenced, hidden away, suppressed? What if you don’t even know what ‘your voice’ has to say? You speak, but is it really you speaking? You write, but where do those words come from?
Our self-esteem, our self-identity is tied up with our voice, whether it’s as a writer, singer, or speaker. You could probably extend that to artists, actors, and others who use their eyes, hands and media to communicate something. Stepping out and speaking up, expressing our own thoughts and opinions may seem simple to some. For the rest of us, it’s a tall order.
Eckhart Tolle talks about us ‘being the awareness behind our thoughts’ and I think this is crucial to the advancement of our ability to use our voice to express ourselves.
In singing, over time, as we work, we learn to ‘hear’ what we are thinking, and we learn to change it. Our awareness is the first step, then, to growth. Awareness is a non-emotional, non-judgemental consciousness of what we are doing in the moment. It’s a real time assessment. Our experiences, over time, lead us to habits and repetitive thinking, some of which is useful and healthy, and some of which is not. Being ‘awake’ is the only way to see the difference and make choices.
It’s not always easy, and Tolle talks about this as well. We may recognize what we are doing, but we may be unable to change it in the moment. If we stay the course, and practice being aware, sometimes we will be able to change our reactions mid-stream. If we continue, we will be able to recognize the thought when it happens and react in the new way. Eventually, the old thought will simply disappear.
I know from the practice of singing that we just can’t erase old programming, though. We really have to put new programming in its place. In singing, technique helps us with this. As we apply the elements of craft to what we are doing, the combination of awareness and technical application begins to free the voice. In addition, as we sing the different vowels, we are resonating. We feel good, hopefully, as we practice. Each sound that we sing, on various scales, is associated with healing, with energy, and in a sense is meditative.
I believe that any art form requires this approach. To be a great actor, you need to know all facets of the Self so you can bring one or more out as needed when performing, but you have to know where your light is. As a visual artist, you need to trust your instincts, and your hands to express, while understanding how to mix colours. As a writer you put things down on paper in a certain way, a way that reflects your thoughts and your dreams, but you have to know how to string words together so they make sense.
People say that being ‘commercial’ in the writing of music (or other artistic endeavors) is limiting. They say that when you produce commercial work that it is homogenized, cookie cutter, less valuable than non-commercial work. I say they both have their place. Non-commercial may be ‘uncrafted’, but its rawness can appeal. Commercial music can be too ‘mechanical’, but its textures can be interesting.
I hear the same non-commercial vs commercial discussion in singing. The raw, untrained voice is liked because of its earthiness but is sometimes limited in range. The trained, crafted voice is liked because of its strength and consistency, but may lack presence.
In my opinion the true voice reveals itself through an equal application of technique and authenticity. Being ‘yourself’ but striving to master your instrument of choice so the sounds or shapes or colours express meaning but can still be understood.
Your own voice is… inspiration, perspiration and craft practiced together.
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