"Just Let Go."

It's only been a few days since I posted, but I've been on a bit of a musician's high since then and thought I would share my soul-stirring insights (HA) with my (small but loyal) group of readers.  Last weekend, I performed a Valentine's Day show with comocabaret (that's all lowercase, people).

www.comocabaret.com

Comocabaret (capitalized ONLY to start the sentence) is an adult performing group for which I auditioned last fall.  The original vision was to present musical theatre vignettes.  I wish I could say I was a part of the original few shows, back before they auditioned for a regular cast.  I wasn't, but I had heard such good things about the group's artistic directors and their vision for the group that I couldn't help but be intrigued.  One of the ensemble's main artistic directors, Adam McCall, had actually been cast as Chip in Putnam County Spelling Bee, for which I directed the vocal music last summer.  Inevitably, we ran with the same crowds, the Columbia musical theatre "underground," if there exists such a thing.  I figured my chances of getting in might be *slightly* tipped in my favor, but I wouldn't dare allow myself to think those thoughts for fear of rejection.  After all, I was just a teacher.

I auditioned with "'Til There Was You."  I was nervous, and it showed.  Those that know me know I've done a moderate amount of research in music performance anxiety.  Until recently, I didn't realize this was a) a real thing and b) a thing that afflicted me.  So to have completed a public performance with anything less than a severe post-audition mental lashing was an accomplishment in and of itself.  But that's another blog entry for a rainy day.

I got in, met and bonded with the cast, and was assigned my first piece, "No One Knows Who I Am" from Jekyll and Hyde.  I learned it (transposed up about 80 keys to the soprano realm), memorized it, and performed it.

It was...eh.

Everyone tells me I'm my own worst critic.  Thanks, Freud.  Like I didn't know that by the fact that I obsessed over the details, which I'll save you all from reading.  Just know that I did, in fact write them all out in this very blog and then subsequently delete them because no one really cares about the mistakes.  A realization in and of itself.  They should have called the song "No One Cares How I Mess Up." But I did realize something pivotal in that first performance:

...worrying about the mistakes was actually keeping me from doing what I really wanted to do...which was present a musical, technically finessed song in the best way possible....

This is where I'm going to get a little D-2 Mighty Ducks (inspirational) on you.  Setting impossible standards (a HUGE factor in the field of MPA / Music Performance Anxiety) results in exactly what you think it would: a seemingly god-awful performance devoid of any musicality and riddled with mistakes and unrealized potential.  It's one thing to have high standards and strive to reach them, and quite another to aim for the impossible.  We're only human, after all.

A month later, I performed the duet "Old Devil Moon" with another cast member.  Logistically, we get one rehearsal with the group's other artistic director and pianist Tony Hernandez.  Then we have one dress rehearsal, which occurs directly before the show itself.  Welcome to the real world.  As I was rehearsing with my scene partner, something that Adam told me really stuck in my mind.  He told me to just control a little less and let go.  This seems trivial, commonsense, even.  But it was the way he said it to me, under his breath and as if he were my own miniature angel-conscious decked in white robes and crowned with a halo, sitting on my shoulder and telling me just to let go.  So much of what I do is about control: vocal control over myself, classroom control over my students, financial control over my life.  It felt liberating to just let go little.

I was 95 percent more satisfied with my duet than I was with my first solo.  If I could have changed anything, I would agreed to Adam's proposed stage kiss.

...Which I did at this last weekend's Valentine's weekend performance! The program was about all kinds of love, and I just so happened to be assigned the gushiest, ooey-gooiest love duet in the history of man: Say it Somehow from "A Light in the Piazza."

I felt more satisfied with this than I have with almost any other performance I've given, except for maybe when I sang Glitter and be Gay at my undergrad senior recital (and lord knows if I could turn back time, I would do a lot of things differently with that piece...like let go...a la Kristin Chenowith). It helped to sing with a patient, understanding scene partner, Trent, inches in front of an equally as wonderful cast.

These developments are monumental...earth-shattering for me, even, because performing has never necessarily come naturally to me.  Many who know me as a person but not a musician might laugh at this.  To them, I sing and even teach people how to sing.  But performing is rough, rough stuff.  I'm in no way capped out, and I know I can still do a lot more technically and vocally, but I do feel like I've improved a lot.  It was community theatre that prompted that, not two conservatory-type college degrees and years of voice lessons.  This tells me a lot about education and the way people learn: you never know how you're going to affect someone or be affected.  I only feel like I can teach young performers because I've experienced some of the limitations and capabilities of the human psyche. You put yourself out there to be judged, and you must, must, MUST take rejection, in all its ugly forms, with a grain of salt.  The teensy bit of self-satisfaction I feel now is something I've developed from years of overly harsh self-criticism, and only recently have I felt even remotely worthy of the music.

And that feels good.

The take-away:

1. I feel more prepared to inspire young generations to a level of (deserved) musical confidence

2. We are always our own worst critics...sometimes this helps us be better, and sometimes this keeps us from being who we really are.

3. ...so just let go.

Book Review: The Savvy Musician....

It's been a busy few weeks.  Since I last wrote, my graduate studies have gained momentum, I performed in two concerts and had three new student requests.  I got asked to direct the music for three upcoming musicals (whether or not this is actually possible is irrelevant; at least my name is out there).  I have spent the last two years turning away new students and, I discovered, have quite possibly been de-moting myself by not keeping my website current.   The last two weeks have been revitalizing for me; moving forward with life decisions is exhilarating.  I have actively been promoting myself and my studio, revising my biography, editing my resume, and fine-tuning that pesky thing that all studio owners should have called a business plan.  I feel like I have a new lens in life, and am growing more confident with my decisions.

I started reading this book that is changing my life.  That sounds cliche, but it's true.  It's called The Savvy Musician: Building a Career, Earning a Living, and Making a Difference by David Cutler.

Click for the amazon listing...

I spent a hundred dollars last month on studio development texts: The PracticeSpot to Promoting Your Teaching Studio, The Independent Piano Teacher's Studio Handbook, The Private Music Instruction Manual: a Guide for the Independent Music Educator, and none other than The Complete Idiot's Guide to Teaching Music On Your Own, which I figured was worth the investment of $0.01 (it is surprisingly thorough...even current teachers can garner some good ideas from this resource).

The Savvy Musician kept popping up on the list of recommended materials, but I was more interested in studio business models and pricing strategies, so I put this on my wishlist and decided to wait until February to buy it.

It showed up on my doorstep and I read the whole thing (all 368 pages) within 24 hours.  Now, most people who know me would gather two things from this: 

     1. Most days, I barely have time to remember to put on pants.  So you can guess what I was wearing when I read this.

     2. Graduate school has taught me to be a critical jerk, for lack of better word.  For me to finish something cover-to-cover and barely come up for air, let alone some type of written content analysis, is just blasphemous.

Every musician should read The Savvy Musician.  Are you a musician? Then go read it.  I'm serious.  I wish I had read it after my undergraduate degree, though I'm not confident I would have had the tools, skills, and motivation to follow through on a lot of ideas the author advocates.  This book is about musicians making their own opportunities, finding their niche, marketing themselves, and also contains some invaluable grant and networking resources.  Besides this, the author proposes a lot of difficult questions that musicians often refuse to face.  Reading this book has forced me to look at my own vision: what do I really want to do as a singer and an educator, and why?  The first obstacle to conquer, not unlike writing any well-crafted essay, research paper, or book, is knowing what will realistically work. In a sense, this means choosing the right balance between making music or paying the bills, creating music or living from commission to commission, and performing music you want to perform or doing it because you have to.

Realistically, there aren't a lot of resources out there like this, at least not any that aren't riddled with dry, "intellectual" research.  It's readable, but not watered down, and has lots of project ideas.  Anyone who "diversifies" in the music world needs to invest 15 bucks to read this, and here's why...

In a nutshell, musicians would be better respected if all of them knew how to not be musicians for a bit.  That is, make rational, left-brained decisions about their art.  That's not to say there aren't some awesome performers out there who know how to make a living because they said "no" to doing unpaid gigs (or even that doing this will guarantee your prosperity), but there are plenty of wonderful artists who never feel successful.  Perhaps that's because they are undercharging for lessons, agreeing to take on too many "free" gigs, or don't know how to aggressively pursue and follow up with auditions, interviews, publishers, venues, etc.  It's that consumer mentality: if something costs more than the competition, it must be better.  After all, you get what you pay for.  Musical services are no different.

My disclaimer: I'm no authority on this subject.  I'm by no means a famous teacher or grammy artist,  but I do have eyes and a brain and I know how to observe, and I see a lot of people who undercut themselves for ridiculous excuses. Why can't musicians have a lucrative, successful career? Because they get stuck thinking they need or have to do one thing in life, and usually that involves a coveted orchestra or opera company gig.  When they don't get that one thing, they give up, and that's why so many wonderful singers and actors end up selling insurance or waiting tables.  A true musician will make their own opportunities, come hell or high water, and that's exactly what this book addresses.

The author includes lots of "blurbs": real-life musicians, composers, performers, and their successes and failures.  Imagine my surprise when I ran across a professor's name from my very own school, Dr. Stephen Freund, and the new music ensemble Alarm Will Sound.  It's a small world. 

Acquiring Students Through Craigslist: Yay or Nay?

This past week, I went on tour with my choir.  The inevitable long bus commutes and church-provided potluck dinners prompted several conversations with talented musicians, teachers, and colleagues. I was asked by three people how I recruit my private students.  This is probably one of the most challenging issues faced by emerging independent teachers, especially those that teach music.  A friend of mine mentioned she had trouble finding students, to which my response was "that's a big, fat LIE."  There are 28 people currently on my wait list. I have had at least forty more inquire or express interest (most of these I referred to other instructors), and there are likely hundreds more potential students within the community. It takes some aggressive (and simultaneously tasteful) marketing, but if you do it right, students will flock to you.

My jazz combo leader my junior year of college recommended me to my first student, a junior high-school mezzo-soprano.  Let me tell you, as a student in dire need of textbooks / gas / mac&cheese / character shoes / :::insertfinancialburdenhere:::, 20 dollars a week was a lot of money.  Of course, now I realize much more unpaid time is spent outside the lesson itself in planning and organizing, but the sudden rise in income prompted me to search for a few more students.

Fast forward to two years later and I'm a recent graduate in the middle of the fiscal year, engaged to my now husband (and therefore tied to the geographic 30-mile radius job search) and limited to substitute teaching, which I found burdensome and unsatisfying.  The studio was an alternative to a full-time teaching job, which, at the time I highly coveted.  When the studio became my livelihood, it was imperative that I took on many students, fast, or the rent wouldn't be paid.

My first Craigslist post was lengthy and the teensiest bit naive (ok, probably a lot a bit naive).  I think I may have even included my phone number, which is a big no-no, though I don't think I ever received anything worse than a few texts from random numbers.  Down the road, I adhered to the Craigslist code of short and simple.  Over the next six months, I had a teaching load of 22 weekly students, approximately ten of which were from Craigslist.  I acquired some of my most dedicated students this way.

Here's a few things I learned about accepting students from Craigslist.  Of course, these are merely suggestions and generalizations, so if it doesn't speak to you, take it with a grain of salt.

1. The obvious street-wise rules apply: don't post your address, phone number, share your bank account or credit information, etc. etc.  Anyone living in the digital age should know this.  Use a junky e-mail address to register and prepare to sift through a lot of spam.  Whether or not you want to do this is dependent upon how much you want students.

2. Your ad: make it short.  People want to know about you, what and how you teach, an approximate location in town, and how much you might charge.  You can choose to include your prices in your ad (read on for more info on this).

Example of what NOT to post:
Hello! My name is Jane Doe.  I am a recent college graduate looking to take on lots of students as soon as possible (this reads: prices negotiable).  I won this award, taught at this school, yada yada yada (this reads: I'm losing interest). I teach all styles (this reads: I'll let your six year old learn opera).  My rates are start at xxxxx (what?! That's pricey. I'm not even going there).  If interested, call me at 123-456-7890 (I'm so texting this person...).

Example of what TO post:
Recent college graduate with x years of experience (exclude this if you have no experience, but be ready to provide references and examples of your work to anyone who asks) seeks motivated students in private voice, gamelan, and didgeridoo (if you don't know what these instruments are, you should...so go look them up).  South side of town. Inquire through CL with "Music Lessons" in the title. Optional: rates start at xxxx.

3. If you DO NOT include your prices in your ad, you risk spending a lot of time responding to inquiries to people that won't pay over ten dollars for a lesson.  Understand that most people on CL are price-shopping and just want to know "how much would it be to take voice."  If the first thing a potential student or parent asks you is how much you charge, they are probably less likely to understand things like rates, price increases, fees for books, supplies, etc.  Though THIS IS NOT ALWAYS TRUE, it's true a lot of the time. Once someone inquires, be up front about your prices, be ready to back them up, and don't undercut area musicians by undercharging.

4. If you DO include your prices in your ad, you will probably get less inquiries.  Those that do respond will be more motivated and likely to start soon because they already are aware of what you charge.  In their mind, they've accepted that they are willing to spend 30 dollars an hour and are essentially ready to start (most of the time).

5. I never reply to a CL inquiry with typewritten information.  Once I verify that they have read my ad and aren't some spam-bot in Egypt (I can generally tell by the grammar in the e-mail and/or if they have changed the title of their e-mail), I ask that they call me and give them my phone number.  If you don't have a landline, a magic jack is a safe alternative.  After that, the ball's in their court.

6. If they call you, you've gotten a lot further than the average joe.  After a successful phone conversation, I would meet potential students or parents for a consultation at a neutral location, like a coffeeshop.  After I got more confident at this process, I eventually skipped this step and invited them to my studio for a free consultation at a time when I knew my husband would be home.  Don't do this if you are even the least bit wary of the potential student.  Have a third party present in the area (public or private) just in case.  Use this time to discuss goals, your studio policy, payment plans, etc.  Bring any necessary documents (practice contracts, pricing sheet, calendars, etc).

7. If everything goes well, set a start date and ask that they bring payment to their first lesson.  However you charge is up to you, but I would strongly advise that you ask for payment in advance (for x amount of lessons and/or the remainder of the month). Never consider anything a done deal until they have pre-paid for lessons and the money is in your bank account.

8. Don't be a snob.  You can have an open mind and street smarts at the same time.  Not everyone who price shops is going to be a horrible student.  Not everyone who pays on time is going to be an excellent student. Any student / teacher relationship started off on the right foot can be extremely rewarding, whether initiated on craigslist or not.

I use my example of *Penelope, whose name I'll change for privacy, as a personal success story. Penelope is one of my most faithful, loyal, hardworking students.  I accepted Penelope as a voice student in 2009, shortly after my undergrad.  Penelope was an adult, slightly younger than me, and was looking to pursue her hobby of singing.  Almost three years later, Penelope has stayed loyal through trial and error teaching and learning (and believe me, there's been a lot of error on my part), price changes, policy changes, three pianos, two degrees, multiple teaching jobs, and supported every personal and professional decision I ever made.  She is now pregnant with her first child, and will be wrapping up her private study this summer so she can prepare for the delivery and the next phase of her life.  Over the next several months, we will work to prepare a take-away portfolio of her work to date, including her repertoire, journals, lesson video and audio recordings, etc.  We have discussed the sustainability of her involvement with singing and performing, and will develop a feasible plan for long-term enjoyment and appreciation of music (which will likely emphasize vocal health and the music / motherhood relationship).  I recommended that she add her private study to her resume, because devoting one's self to something for several years is something to write home about, IMHO.

Part of the reason I believe Penelope was so successful as a student was because she had clear expectations from the beginning regarding her abilities and practical application in the real world.  As an adult, her intentions were not to win contests or become the next American idol.  She was ready to improve the quality of her voice and understood that improvement was a result of hard work and strong guidance.  She was willing to pay a competitive price for quality instruction, and was flexible in the learning/teaching process.

I have multiple other success stories of students I acquired through Craigslist, and hopefully you will, too.  Like teaching, learning, and life, it's all a matter of trial and error.

Teachers are people, too.

Out with the old, in with the new.  This year's resolutions: drink more water and blog at least twice a month.  Like many, I've fallen into the blog trap in the past: create, write excessively for a month, and like a kitchen appliance, the concept of the blog loses its appeal and gets shoved to some dusty shelf and used rarely, if ever again.  The idea of blogging is truly fascinating if you think about it.  People have no qualms expressing their most complex feelings, thoughts, emotions and experiences, and posting it for the entire world.  In the technological generation, it's considered abnormal not to have some kind of online presence.  I'll say right now that I'm probably no different than any blogger.  In my mind, I've accepted  that blogging, while creative and arguably an art form in its own right, is the teensiest bit narcissist.  My goal is to share my experiences teaching music, to be open about my thought processes with regards to my private music students and my sixth graders, who I teach general music to at a public school. The other day I ran into a student while eating breakfast at iHop. Cheekiness aside from being caught with a forkful of fatty, syrupy pancakes, I was surprised when my student said "I didn't know you ate here."  Kid rhetoric aside, teachers are people, too! I buy groceries, eat out, and get my oil changed.  It's a shame that even with my private students, who receive the most one-on-one attention, our interactions revolve around showing up, warming up, singing or playing, and giving a performance twice a year.

If I could de-censor these things, I would, because many people are actually quite surprised to learn that when I'm not teaching, I'm pretty sarcastic, often zany, and relatively off-beat.  The control and tendency toward OCD of teaching has taken over my personality more than I would have liked recently (I am technically a first-year teacher).  This blog will be for my students, parents, and myself to get to know the thought processes involved in running a private music studio and balancing teaching with performing, learning, and living life.  So while I'll try to be succinct in my posts, I'm going to go out on a limb and risk my students, their parents, my teachers, and colleagues understanding who I really am.