On signing the contract...

Another season is coming to its close, and, as my friend has been saying, change is in the air.  It seems these days almost everyone I know is on the move.  Some are going away to study, some are beginning new jobs, and some have won places in young artist programmes.

As for me, I am preparing for my fourth move in six years – and this time, my new home will be Austria.  I've just signed a two-year contract with the opera chorus in Innsbruck. 

My shiny new workplace

In a way, this turn of events has felt very sudden.  In another way, I sensed for a while now that it was going to happen.

You may have noticed I've been blogging a lot less lately.  The fact is, I've been too busy singing!  In the past six months or so, things really began to cook, and I had a very full calendar.  Lots of projects, lots of travel, and lots of performing.  It would seem, as a freelancer, I was doing pretty well.  Some people might even go far as to call me successful.

There's just one thing.  And I feel like I’m committing some kind of cardinal sin by saying this.  But here it is: freelancing made me unhappy.

I was exhausted by the constant travel.  I hated being away so much, and never feeling like I had a steady home base.  I was sick of airports and hotel rooms.  I worried constantly about money.  And I really struggled with the extreme emotional highs and lows.  Performances could make me feel on top of the world – but as soon as a project was over, I would crash into a post-performance slump, and feel like it was impossible to recover.

"Help!  I've fallen and I can't get up!"

I felt bad complaining, because I knew I should feel lucky to be making a living doing what I loved.  I knew some people might even see the work I had, the places I was seeing, and feel jealous.  I didn't want to seem ungrateful, or come across like I was having "first world problems".  But the truth is, freelancing made me feel anxious and exhausted all the time.

Some people love freelancing.  They love the adrenaline and excitement, the novelty of exploring new cities and working with new colleagues, the feeling of being a free agent and answering to nobody.   I have friends who thrive on the freelance life, and it's a beautiful thing to behold.  As for me, I've never managed to get past the feeling that I'm barely coping, struggling to survive.  It has never felt like a safe or sustainable way to live.

As my calendar got fuller and my "success" continued, I felt like the walls were closing in on me.  Something had to give.  Something had to change.  And then it did.

As I went from project to project, I continued to do auditions.   Nothing new there.  I've been doing auditions since I arrived in Germany.  It's become a predictable sort of routine.  I get invited, I prepare, I travel, I sing, and they say no.  Rinse and repeat.  The no's get less shocking every time.  I know it sounds twisted, but I've actually come to expect them.  I sigh, shrug my shoulders, pick myself up and start preparing for the next audition.  That's just the way it goes.  As it was, is, and ever shall be, world without end Amen.

But as I continued to audition, some small, almost imperceptible adjustments were taking place.  My German was improving.  I was settling into a more comfortable, confident attitude with audition panels.  I was more relaxed.  I felt more like myself.  I even began to – shock, horror – crack the occasional joke!

Perhaps most importantly, I was always busy with work.  Which meant that I was too busy to overprepare, overthink, or put too much pressure on myself to succeed in any one audition.  I had just enough time to practise my arias and sing them for the panel.  No more, no less.  In short, I stopped caring so much.

One day, I went to sing for a government agency in Stuttgart.  I had already sung for this agent a year ago, and it was completely fruitless, so I wasn't expecting anything.  To my surprise, they took me on, and immediately started advising me on some upcoming jobs.

I didn't really know how to react.  They said… yes?  That couldn't be right.  Surely it was some kind of mistake?

Who, me?

Once I got over the initial shock, I realised that, somehow, I must be doing something right.  I decided to keep the momentum going and audition immediately for the government agency in Cologne as well.  This time, the agent told me there was a job I'd be perfect for.  Could I audition in Innsbruck before the end of the June?  The next day the theatre phoned and asked when I could come and sing.

I couldn't believe it!  It seemed like everything was happening so quickly, so easily.  I was so used to hearing "no".  I was so used to struggling for everything.  Now suddenly I had taken a turn, and everything was falling effortlessly into place.  "Well," said my singing teacher, "it sounds like the universe is telling you that you're on the right path."

"That's right, this way, just keep going!"

Sure enough, a week later I found myself at the theatre in Innsbruck.  The audition went well, and they hired me on the spot!

This all happened over a month ago, and it still feels pretty surreal.  I've since signed a contract, had my first costume fitting, found an apartment in Innsbruck, and applied for my Austrian visa.  I've also gone through the business of informing employers and colleagues, and cancelling other upcoming work.  And yet no matter how many people I tell, somehow I still can't believe it.

Change is in the air, as my friend says.  And this change is a big one.  I'm still struggling to wrap my head around it.  Not only because I'm moving to a new country.  Not only because my fiancé and I will – once again – have to adjust to a long-distance relationship.  In fact, the very idea of having a job is blowing my mind.  It seems as if the whole definition and purpose of my life has changed.

For as long as I can remember, I've been practising so that I can perform well in auditions and win a job.  That was always my focus, my motivation, my raison d’être.  Now suddenly, I've got that job.  It's everything I've been working towards.  I'm finally safe, and I know I'll be able to stay in one place and receive a monthly salary for my work.

Strangely enough, as much as I’m happy and relieved by all this, it's also opening up some deep existential questions.  What do I sing?  Why do I sing?  Why do I exist, if not to work towards the next big audition?  What can I strive towards, what can I struggle with, now that this big question mark has been removed from my life?  How will it feel, no longer living on the edge?  Who is Diva on a Dare, when she's no longer Daring?

As I prepare to begin this new phase of life, I'm looking forward to more security, more stability, a better quality of life.  I'm sure I will feel much happier and healthier than I ever did as a freelancer.  I'm also sure that I have some soul-searching ahead of me.  It's time to discover who I really am, and why I really sing.  Once I stop struggling to survive, once I remove this relentless worry about what-comes-next… what will remain?

I can't wait to find out.

Ten Tips for Touring

As you may have noticed, I've been doing a lot of touring lately.  As well as travelling around Germany for various projects, this season I've been in a concert tour of China and Korea.  I just got back from a trip to Spain, and I'm now gearing up for a big tour of South America in April.

Being on tour is an intense experience.  You are with the same group of people, repeating the same programme and travelling together for days on end.  It takes a lot of energy and focus, as well as patience and good humour.  Here are some important things which I've learned about what it takes to be a happy touring musician...

(Psst... You might want to start by getting a bigger suitcase)

1. Stay on top of the paperwork

Touring is rarely as simple as flying from point A to point B.  Often you will have to travel to several different locations, and apply for all of the relevant working visas.  Take it from me – you should start on this as early as possible.  Usually your employer will tell you what you need and which forms to fill out, but you may also need to look into some of this stuff on your own.  And even when you think it's all sorted, there can always be further complications and delays.  I recently had to apply for a temporary second passport at the Canadian embassy, and I'm glad I started early.  As it turned out, they needed English translations of the letters from my employers.  This inevitably took some extra time.  Imagine if I had left all of this until the last minute.  I would have never got the passport in time for the tour.  I would have been landlocked, and lost out on ten days of work!

2. Be prepared for anything

Sunshine, rain, snow, plagues of locusts – you need to pack for every possibility you can imagine.  You'll be kicking yourself if you get to a cold concert hall and realise you've forgotten your long sleeves at home.  Never say never.  Anything can happen on tour.

Betty and Jim really wished they had brought their locust repellent with them to Egypt.

3. Bring along a piece of home

Travelling from hotel to hotel can be stressful and exhausting.  So it's important to make your temporary residence as comfortable and home-y as possible.  Everyone has different things which make them feel at home.  Whether it's a cup of tea, a pair of fuzzy slippers, or a favourite movie on their laptop, these things can transform a cold soul-less hotel room into your home away from home.  Don't underestimate the importance of these small creature comforts.  They can really help you negotiate the stress of long-term travel.

Fuzzy slippers are really important, you guys!

4. Find some regularity

Another way to handle the stress of touring is to create your own regularity within the irregularity.  Having some routines and habits can help everything feel a lot less chaotic.  I have a bit of a ritual when I arrive at a new place.  I unpack my suitcase in a particular order, I have a short nap if there’s time, and then I warm up before heading to the venue.  It's important to me that I unpack right away, so that I can feel settled as soon as possible.  Aside from my unpacking ritual, I am also a member of a gym which has locations all over Germany.  This means that no matter where in the country I'm working, I can always go to my gym and know my way around.  These may seem like small details, but they really help me feel comfortable on the road.

5. Do some forward planning

When you’re travelling for work, there isn't as much space for being spontaneous as there would be on holiday.  Your sightseeing time is limited, and you can't just wander aimlessly hoping to run into something cool.  So research the places you'll be visiting.  What is unique there which you absolutely must see?  When might you have time between rehearsals and concerts to go and see it?  I'm not saying you have to make yourself a detailed itinerary, but it helps to have a rough idea of what you will see when.  I had an amazing visit recently to the Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao.  I was particularly inspired by the exhibit of Niki de Saint Phalle.  I'm so glad I put some time aside to go and see it!

Seriously, how cool is this??

6. Pace yourself

Touring requires a lot of energy and endurance.  You have to think of the long game – this is a marathon, not a sprint!  It is of utmost importance that you conserve your health and energy through to the very end of the trip.  Know your own body and be sensible enough to rest when you need it.  You may feel a bit blue about missing a night at the bar or an afternoon of sightseeing, but it's better to make that sacrifice than to end up sick for the rest of the tour.

"Ahhhh.... made it."

7. Keep it fresh

One of the toughest things about touring is that you're usually performing the same piece, over and over.  But just because the music is old news to you, doesn't mean it should sound like that to the audience!  This is the first time they're hearing your performance, and they want to hear something fresh and inspiring.  So don't let yourself coast.  Keep looking for new things in the music, and trying to outdo yourself.  Could that phrase have a smoother legato?  Could that high note have a better approach?  Remember – the biggest room in the world is the room for improvement.

This is also a very big room.

8. Set a budget

You can spend crazy amounts of money on tour if you’re not careful.  The last thing you want is to come home to an empty bank account!  Many employers will pay you a per diem for your meals, which can provide a good guideline for your daily spending limit.  However there are some companies who don't provide a per diem, and if you're not careful you can eat up most of your fee before you've even been paid.  I like to take out a set amount of cash every week, based on a daily spending limit.  Some days I might go above or below this limit, but I always make sure it averages out in the end.  As long as I don't need to take out more cash before the week is out, it's all good.  This trick is even easier if you're visiting a country with a different currency.  If you only buy so many pesos from your bank, you will only have so much with you on tour.

Benito Juarez is judging your spending habits.

9. Do it like the locals

Why go all the way to Japan only to spend all your time in Starbucks?  You have a unique opportunity here to explore a new country.  Get out there and enjoy it!  Check out the local food, the local wines, the theatres, the museums, the festivals and marketplaces – everything which makes this place unique.  You may never have a chance in your life to do all of this again.  So seize the day!

10. Schedule some time to crash post-tour

You will be tired after a tour, especially if it's a week or longer.  So for the love of God, don't plan an important meeting the day you get back!  Sometimes these things can't be helped.  But if you have any control over your schedule (which freelancers normally do) make sure you have an empty day or two when you get home.  You'll need this time to rest, recover, and tackle that giant mountain of laundry sitting in your suitcase.

"Send help!"

Touring can be a real hoot!  It can also be a gruelling nightmare if you're not careful.  In the end, it all comes down to how you approach it.  So be smart and organised, plan ahead, and try to keep a healthy balance between work and play.

I hope these tips will help you make the most of your next tour.  Happy travels!

Tips for Freelancing (Part 3)

Welcome to my third post of freelancing tips!  These are mostly things which I've learned the hard way, "on the job".  I'm posting them here in the hopes that some of you can avoid making the same mistakes.  At the very least, you can enjoy chuckling over my blunders with a mixture of recognition and Schadenfreude.  If you've missed my past posts, you can find Part 1 here and Part 2 here.

21. Be prepared.

This is one point I have to say I've never struggled with.  I have always been very conscientious about learning my music.  But unfortunately I can't say the same for all of my colleagues.  I have seen people show up at the first rehearsal not knowing a single note of the score.  And it is REALLY annoying.  Any musical endeavour is only as good as its weakest link.  And when someone doesn't know their music, everyone else has to slow down their progress to accommodate them.  This is an extremely unfair burden to place on your colleagues.  Not only is it unprofessional, but it shows a complete lack of consideration and respect for others.  And don't think that your colleagues are the only one who will notice you don't know what you're doing.  The director, the conductor, and any other management present at rehearsals will certainly take note.  You can be sure that no matter how talented you are, they won't want to hire you again.

Scar makes a good point.

22. Dress the part.

I'll never forget my first Messiah.  It was at a cathedral in Paisley.  I wore a beautiful sleeveless sapphire-blue evening gown.  And I almost froze my tits off!  If I had put any thought into my attire (aside from the vanity of wanting to wear a pretty frock) I would have remembered that the Scottish winter is pretty cold, and most churches don't use central heating.  I would have worn thick woolen tights, and a dress with sleeves.  At the very least I would have covered my shoulders with a jacket or a shawl.

Any time you are performing at a new venue, or with a new company, make sure you do your research on what to wear.  Do they have a dress code?  How conservative is the audience?  Are bare shoulders and cleavage frowned upon?  Are women allowed to wear trousers?  And most importantly, how hot or cold are you going to be on stage?  It is essential to dress appropriately if you want to avoid being embarrassed or uncomfortable.

23. Make sure you're on the same page.

Here's another fun anecdote, again from Scotland.  I was hired for my first Vivaldi Gloria.  I immediately got a score from the library, and began preparing my part.  On the day of the concert I made a horrifying discovery: there are two versions of the Vivaldi Gloria, and I had prepared the wrong one.  The edition I had prepared had a considerably shortened version of the duet with the soprano.  We were performing the longer version, and there was a big chunk of music which I had never seen before!  After some panicked photocopying and note-bashing, I managed to get through the concert without disaster.  Needless to say, though, it was not ideal.  This is how I learned I had to check exactly which edition to use.  Don't make the same mistake I did!

24. Check, double-check, and check again.

To Do:
-Make List
-Check Twice

Make sure you're absolutely certain about every last detail.  The repertoire, the fee, the timing of the rehearsals, the address of the venue – anything which risks getting confused or miscommunicated.  Be meticulous about this, and do it well in advance of the gig.  Read and reread any information you've been given.  Make sure there's nothing missing, and if there is something missing, ask.  There is nothing more embarrassing than showing up at the wrong place, or at the wrong time.  There is nothing more uncomfortable than having a misunderstanding with your management about scheduling or money.  So make sure you know everything and are ok with it.  This is what contracts are for.  Which brings us to…

25. Dot your i’s and cross your t’s.

I know, I know.  Paperwork sucks.

"Um... a little help..?"

But most of the time it's there for your sake.  And if you don't pay close attention to it, you could land yourself in deep trouble.  Like any job, freelancing involves important financial and legal considerations.  So get your reading glasses out and protect yourself.  Make sure you're registered for taxes as self-employed.  Educate yourself on which expenses you can claim, and how to prepare and file a tax return.  Get insurance, and if you can, a savings plan.  In Germany we have a wonderful thing called the Künstlersozialkasse (how's that for a mouthful?).  You make monthly payments based on how much you're earning, and in return they pay your health insurance and put money into a pension plan.  This is an invaluable resource for any freelancing musician.  Most importantly, pay careful attention to the paperwork your employers send you.  Any time you get a contract, make sure you understand and agree with everything before signing it.  Remember: you're usually the only one looking out for yourself.

26. You don't have to like everyone, and not everyone has to like you.

This is a hard enough lesson to learn in life, but it's especially painful to acknowledge when it comes to music.  I know we all like to think that music-making is a magical process, and everyone involved is brought together in peace and loving harmony by the beautiful sounds they make.

"Kumbaya my Lord, Kumbaya...."

Let's get real though.  Music attracts all kinds of personalities, including the difficult and unpleasant ones.  Don't get me wrong here.  I hope the majority of your employers and colleagues will be lovely, kind, and friendly people.  I hope you will have lots of things in common, and enjoy each other's company.  But the fact is, not everyone is going to become your new bestie.  In fact, some people might be downright mean to you.  The sooner you learn to accept and cope with this, the better.

27. …But you do have to get along.

You don't have to have go for chummy beers together after rehearsal, but you do have to be civil to each other.  No matter what you might think of someone personally, at the end of the day they still are your colleague.  You have to be able to work with them in a pleasant and respectful way.  And this may not be the last time you work with them.  So stay on good terms.  Don't burn any bridges.

28. Learn to manage your diary.

As a freelancer, your diary can look pretty crazy – especially in December.

What the Christmas season looks like for most of us.

But until you get your own management or can afford a personal assistant (sure, that'll be the day) managing your diary is up to you.  Before you accept another gig, take a good long look at your calendar.  Are you sure you're not double-booking yourself?  Are you sure you're not taking too much on?  Think twice before accepting new commitments.  As for the time between gigs, that's important to manage too.  You'll likely have a long to-do list and a lot of unstructured time in which to tackle it.  Learn to prioritise.  What's urgent?  What's important?  What can wait a bit?  Pay attention to your energy at different points of the day, and try to schedule your work accordingly.  Ideally you would want to do your practising when you're feeling the most energetic and focused. You can save your paperwork and emails for when you're feeling more mellow.

29. Know Yourself

Everyone is always talking about how you have to "sell yourself" in this business.  But how can you sell yourself if you don't know what it is you're selling?  Before you start "getting yourself out there" – auditioning, building a website, networking with prospective employers and so forth – you have to do some soul-searching and answer a few important questions.  What are your unique talents and skills?  What kind of musical and performing personality do you have?  What kind of repertoire suits you best and why?  What kind of work do you want to do?  Your answers to these questions will inform a lot of decisions, such as how you market yourself and who you audition for.  It will also help you feel more focused and confident as you continue to build a career.

30. Add some strings to your bow.

Very few musicians make a living doing just one thing.  It's tough out there, and work is hard to come by.  So if you are going around looking only for work as a concert pianist, you are narrowing your possibilities considerably.  How about being a concert pianist who also accompanies, teaches private lessons, and composes arrangements for their own ensemble?  Now we're talking.  Everyone has their own variety of skills and talents.  So find out what else you can do well, and capitalise on that!  The more diverse your skills, the better your chances of survival.

The most important thing to remember?  Freelancing is a tough business.  And despite all the anecdotes and tips I've tried to share with you on here, you will probably make your own unique set of mistakes.  Don't sweat it too much.  Mistakes are normal.  Just make sure you learn your lesson and move on!

Tips for Freelancing (Part 2)

And we're back, with more tips for freelancing!  If you missed Part 1, you can find it here.  Trust me when I say, I've learned each and every one of these from personal experience.

11. Respect your elders.

It seems these days the music industry is getting more and more age-ist.  Everyone is fascinated with the emerging artists, the rising stars.  The newest and hottest young people to hit the scene.  Whatever happened to the respect and awe we used to hold for experienced professionals?  The truth is that older musicians have a LOT to teach you.  They've been there, done that, and bought the T-shirt.  And if you take the time to listen, they'll have some amazing advice and anecdotes to share.  Don't write someone off because their age doesn't begin with 2 or 3.  They may become an amazing friend and mentor for you.

Pierre here could teach you a thing or two about the accordion.
Also, beards and looking stern.

12. Be curious.

When I'm chatting with a friendly colleague, I always try asking what they've been up to lately, and what's coming up next.  Oh, who's the conductor for that again?  And how might I get in touch with them?  This can be one of the best ways to find new professional contacts and eventually get more work.

13. ….But know where to draw the line.

At the same time, you can't expect your colleagues to spoonfeed a career to you.  Some people can be incredibly generous and forthcoming with their information.  But even the most helpful colleague will have their limits.  If a colleague feels like you're just using them for all their contacts and tips, they'll get fed up with it pretty quickly.  Nobody is going to begrudge you a couple of email addresses and tips, but you can't expect them to hand you all of your work on a platter.  You have to do some of the research yourself.  Why would you want to copy their career anyway?  It's their career, something they've tailored over the years to suit their particular skills, talents, and personality.  If you want to be a happy freelancer, you have to build up a combination of work which is right for you.  You have to find your own way.

Back off!  Get your own career.

14. Choose your projects wisely.

One of the toughest freelancing dilemmas is when you get offered two different contracts which conflict with each other.  Sometimes you can negotiate with both parties and find a way to do both.  But usually you're faced with a difficult decision.  Which project to choose?  As someone notoriously bad at decision-making, I know just how stressful this can be.  When faced with a choice like this, I often spend ages agonising over my options and their various pros and cons.  (Seriously, just ask my friends).  There are a lot of factors to consider.  Obviously money is important, but it isn't always the tipping point.  One project might pay less, but still offer a unique and career-building experience – for example, the chance to sing an important role, or work with a well-respected mentor, or perform for important agents and managers.  Perhaps this is a project you know you would really enjoy, because you would get the chance to work with great colleagues, or travel to a country you've never seen before.  In the end you always have to decide what is best for you, right now, at this point in your career.  Is it time to think of your long-term career trajectory, and invest in some professional development?  Can you afford to earn less in the name of fun?  Or is it time to buckle down and do some (perhaps less glamorous) work, so you can pay the bills?

Decisions, decisions...

15. Honour your commitments.

Once you've made your decision, stick with it.  It's important to stay on good terms with an employer, even if you don't think you'll work with them again.  And nobody likes getting the shaft – especially at the last minute.  Sure, sometimes cancelling is unavoidable.  Illness, accidents, family emergencies – these are all justifiable reasons to cancel.  But if you're given the choice, you should always opt to be a loyal and reliable artist.  You can only back out of so many contracts before you start getting a bad reputation.  People talk.  What they'll say is up to you.

16. Pay your dues.

I see a lot of young singers coming out of music college with big heads and starry eyes, thinking they're going to be the Next Big Thing.  And who knows?  Maybe they will.  But they're probably not going to get the big contracts right away.  Everyone has to start somewhere, right?  A lot of the work you do at the beginning of your career will be exhausting, boring, and badly compensated.  It sucks.  I know.  But have courage – you're just at the bottom rung of the ladder right now.  If you do a good job and behave professionally, you'll be on your way up in no time!

Time to get climbing!

17. …But know your worth.

When I arrived in Germany, I accepted some work for very low pay, only to find out that colleagues of the same age and level of experience had negotiated up to a considerably high fee.  Now every time I work for these organisations they'll expect me to be ok working for peanuts.  Why did I agree to work for so little?  I'm a well-educated, well-trained musician with valuable skills to contribute.  And I need to pay my bills just like everyone else!  I've learned this lesson the hard way.  Negotiating fees is a tricky task, but you need to learn to advocate for yourself if you want to pay rent.

18. Keep the big picture in mind.

The problem with gigging around is that it can make you a bit myopic.  You only focus as far as today's rehearsal, or perhaps next weekend's concert.  But what about the bigger goals?  What do you want to accomplish as a musician this year, this decade, this lifetime?  How do you want to build your career?  How do you want to express yourself as a performer?  How do you want to grow as an artist?  If you don't keep thinking about these big questions, you won't have any direction.  Before you know it your whole career will have flown by, and you won't have accomplished half the things you wanted to.

"Remember: we're going THAT way!"

19. Keep getting better.

I know this sounds obvious, but when you're going from one rehearsal to the next, it's easy to get lazy and complacent about your technique.  Maybe you forget to warm up today, or don't bother scheduling a lesson for next week.  Before you know it your sound has gone down the toilet and nobody wants to hire you anymore.  Never take your technique for granted!  You should always be trying to build and maintain it.  After all, that's what's great about being a musician, isn't it?  You never stop growing.  So even if you have a super-busy day, try to take at least 20 minutes to do some technical work and make sure everything is working as it should.  Take pride in always striving to be the best you can be.

20. Fuel your passion.

Sometimes a freelancer gets stuck in a rut.  Shuffling from project to project, never really doing anything they care about.  Everything they do is for money and nothing else.  Not because they love the music, not because they enjoy working with the conductor – only because they need to earn some cash.  This is an incredible demoralising way to work, and if you're not careful it can turn you into a bitter, jaded, and passionless musician.  Ok, so life is not a fairytale.  Sometimes we have to do work that's just that – work.  But we also need to do things which inspire us, which drive us, which feed our musical soul.  Otherwise we may forget what made us choose music in the first place!  So make an effort, on a regular basis, to do a project which really matters to you as an artist.  You may not be able to make money from it.  You may have to set up the whole concert yourself, from the marketing to the venue and reception.  But it will pay off in the long run, because you will be a passionate and inspired artist.  Keep nourishing your love of music and reminding yourself why you do what you do.

Fill 'er up!

I'll be posting more tips soon.  In the meantime, good luck and happy gigging!

Tips for Freelancing (Part 1)

I'm still pretty new to the whole freelancing game.  In no way would I consider myself an expert on how to do it successfully.  However, I have been freelancing for just under five years now.  And that's enough time to make some significant mistakes.

There are a lot of important things which nobody tells you in school about being a freelance musician.  And so, over the last few years, I've often had to learn things the hard way - through screwing up, falling on my face, and generally being an awkward turtle.

But fear not!  You don't have to learn things the way I did.  I've decided to compile a list of freelancing tips, based on what I've learned through trial and error.  Think of these as the ground rules for gigging.  I originally intended this to be one post, but as it turns out, I have a lot to say on the subject.  So let's begin now with part one of... well, many.

1. Don’t just be on time, be early!

Especially if you're travelling to a new venue.  Many are the times I've found myself running around in a confused panic, searching for a church or a concert hall in an unfamiliar neighbourhood.  

"Where is the venue??  WHERE IS THE VENUUUUE????!!!!"

Granted, I have a terrible sense of direction.  But even if you were born with an infallible built-in GPS, it's always a good idea to leave in plenty of time before the rehearsal or performance begins.  Expect the unexpected – leave extra time in case there's a delay on the train or bad traffic, or, yes, in case you get lost.  Even if there are no delays, it's always good to have a nice window of time between arriving at the venue and beginning to sing.  This way you can get your bearings and relax a bit.  Nobody works well when they're feeling rushed, disoriented, or stressed out.

2. Leave your problems outside of the venue.

Whether you're annoyed with your landlord or just had a fight with your wife, your colleagues don't want to know about it.  Sure, artists are emotional creatures.  But if you want to be a professional artist, you need to learn to control when, where, and how you vent your feelings.  Your personal life and your changing moods should not affect the quality of your work.  Your problems should not become your coworkers' problems.  Work on maintaining a pleasant and professional attitude, no matter what you may be feeling on a given day.

3. Never take any work for granted.

It's a great feeling when someone is hiring you on a regular basis.  Congratulations – they like you!  But unless you're on a full-time, permanent contract with them, you should never assume that they will continue to call you for every gig.  I hate to break it to you, but as a freelancer, you should always feel at least a little bit insecure about your work.  This means you should always aim to impress with your musicianship and professionalism, and remind people why you're the best for the job.  It also means you should always be hustling for new work.  Remember: complacency is the enemy.

4. Watch your money.

Probably the hardest thing about being a freelancer is the cashflow.  One month you might make thousands, and the next month might be a big fat goose-egg.  In the meantime, most employers expect you to pay your own travel costs up front.  And as a younger musician you'll be investing a lot of your earnings back into your career with things like lessons, recordings, website building, and travel to auditions.  You have to spend money to make money.  So it's important to learn to be careful with your cash.  Always be looking ahead.  If this month is more lucrative than the next one, try to pinch your pennies while you can.  You may find yourself eating ramen noodles while you desperately await your next paycheque, only to spend it all at once in a rush of relief and euphoria when it finally arrives.  It's a dangerous financial trap to fall into.  But with some planning and budgeting, you should be able to stay on a more even keel.

Don't do this on payday.

5. Keep it respectful.

This goes without saying when you're dealing with other professionals.  But I would say it's especially important when you're helping out at an amateur gig.  Maybe these people aren't as musically educated or sophisticated as you are.  Maybe they're out of tune and can't count to save their life.  But while this is just another gig to you, it probable means the world to them.  Chances are they've been rehearsing for this concert for months, and it's the big musical event of their season.  So please, have some respect.  Don't make snide, snobby remarks or give exasperated sighs at their mistakes.  These people are making music for the joy of it, to connect with people in their community.  Can you imagine a cause more noble than that?  Amateur musicians deserve your respect just as much as professionals – if not more.

6. Be nice to your management.

I've often seen animosity develop between artists and management, and it can create a very unpleasant atmosphere.  Most of the time this comes from misunderstanding and a lack of empathy on both sides.  From the artists' side, I'd say it's important for us to remember that people in arts administration often deal with an enormous workload, long hours, and a high-pressure work environment – and all for very poor money.  They care a lot about their job, and they are doing their best to take care of the musicians.  Perhaps you're annoyed with a mistake they made in your paperwork.  But while you are only dealing with your own paperwork, they're dealing with the paperwork for all the musicians involved in this project.  So when communicating with your management, try to come from a place of compassion and understanding.  Always give them the benefit of the doubt.

7. Take responsibility for yourself.

As a freelancer, you are your own boss.  This means that nobody else is going to motivate you, hold you to task on important goals, or keep you on any kind of regular schedule.  It all comes down to you.  So man up and take charge.  Be proactive.  Be disciplined.  Be the captain of your own ship.

If you want to feel like a real bad-ass, pretend it's a pirate ship.

8. Take care of yourself.

Your well-being is your livelihood.  So do whatever is necessary to make sure you're happy, healthy, and in good singing/playing form.  Eat good nutritious food, get plenty of sleep, and don't forget regular exercise.  It's extremely important for you to be in good physical shape.  After all, performing is very physical work.  You need good breath support and muscle control, as well as the ability to move well on stage.  But beyond that, you'll find that being fit just helps you feel good. I joined a gym a couple of months ago, and it's been a real revelation.  I find that I have more strength and energy in my day-to-day life.  Travelling is much easier – I bounce back more quickly from long journeys and jetlag.  Furthermore, going to the gym adds a bit of structure to my routine – which tends to be pretty chaotic most of the time.  If you need more good reasons to exercise, check out my post about it here.

Let's get physical!

9. Rest when you need it.

I get it.  You're young and ambitious and you want to do everything NOW.  But taking days off is an important part of your practice.  If you don't have the discipline to not practise right now, you may run into serious physical and technical problems in the next few years.  I try to have one non-singing day every week.  This is not always possible, but I find it's a good guideline to aim for.  Regular rest is essential if you want to stay in top form.

10. Get a life.

I always hear people say "music is my life", as if it's something to be proud of.  But if music really is your life, you're setting yourself up for trouble.  You can't let all your happiness depend on one thing.  You need other dimensions to your life in order to feel balanced and fulfilled.  Get a hobby.  Join a club.  Buy a pet.  Or just make friends with people who aren't musicians.  Anything that adds to your life and isn't connected to your music will make you a happier, healthier, and more well-rounded person.

That's all for now.  Stay tuned for more tips soon!

On happiness...

Whenever I go home to visit my family, I find myself taking stock of my current situation.  I reflect on my decision to move to Germany, and the life I've built for myself there.  And the same question keeps coming back to me.

Am I happy?

It's a funny thing, this word "happy".  We're all taught that it's something we should want.  The Americans even go so far as to put it in their Declaration of Independence: life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.  Happiness is something we chase, covet, and put on display.  But what is happiness, really?

A few months ago I joined this online project called 100 Happy Days.  The idea is that for 100 days, you post a picture every day of what makes you happy.  People who've participated in this project say that it's helped them to feel joy and gratitude in their life.  To appreciate the little things.  To notice the things they were taking for granted.  Sounds pretty good, doesn't it?

When I started 100 happy days, I was in a bit of a funk.  The freelance lifestyle was really grinding me down.  I was tired, frustrated, and burnt out.  I thought something like this might improve my day-to-day life.  Maybe it would help me feel better about the world and myself.

And at first, it did.  Having to choose something positive in every day can really change your outlook on things.  I noticed things like sunshine and good cups of coffee.  I felt grateful for cute dogs and long walks.

NEWSFLASH: PUPPIES ARE ADORABLE

It didn't just change my outlook – it changed my whole approach to life.  You see, these days my life seems to take on a sort of all-or-nothing approach.  When I'm on a project, I work and socialise very intensely.  But when I'm at home between projects, I become something of a recluse.  I sit at home drinking tea and watching terrible German television.  Of course, a bit of rest is necessary after long weeks of travelling and singing.  But then that bit of rest always tends to drag out a little too long.  And before I know it, my time at home becomes a long string of "nothing" days.  I do nothing special or nice.  I do nothing memorable or worthy of notice.  I get up, I practise, and I rinse and repeat.  And the time ticks away, meaninglessly.

Once I started 100 happy days, I couldn't have any more nothing days like that.  Every day I had to take a photo of something that made the day special.  And there are only so many photos you can take of the television screen, or your favourite pair of slippers.  So I had to get out there in the world.  I had to be kind to myself, and seek things that made me feel good.

All in all, the project seemed to be good for me.  I was appreciating little things, and finding little things to appreciate.  Surely that would make me feel happy, right?  If I kept looking for happy things, and pointing out happy things, then I must, by default, feel happy myself.

The only problem was, I wasn't happy.  At the time, I was frustrated with my career, which seemed to be going nowhere fast.  I was putting in long tedious hours of rehearsal for very little money.  And I had crippling back pain which just wouldn't go away.

At first I thought putting a smile on things would help.  Finding something to be "happy" about, even though I wasn't able to walk that day.  Isn't that the kind of stuff motivational posters are made of?

[Insert cheesy you-can-do-it quote here]

But it didn't help.  In fact it seemed to make things worse.  On days where I was feeling miserable, the last thing that I needed was a reminder that I was "supposed" to feel happy.  The 100 happy days project began to feel like a guilt trip.  Look at this wonderful thing – shouldn't it make me feel good?  Shouldn't it make me feel thankful?  How could I possibly stay unhappy despite its existence?

The answer, it seemed, was that I must be ungrateful.  I must be spoiled.  What kind of miserable person would refuse to feel happy in a world full of sunshine and kittens?  Surely I had to look on the bright side.  Surely I had to see the good in everything.

And so this project – which was supposed to help me enjoy my life – became a burden.  It was an annoying daily chore.  I resented it.  I dreaded it, the way I used to dread doing my math homework in school.

And yet I kept pushing myself to do it, every single day.  Why?

Like many people in our society, I was obsessed with the idea of happiness.  I believed in positivity and "looking on the bright side".  And I felt an immense pressure to present a smiling face to the world at all times.

"I'm... so... happy!"

After all, nobody wants to hear about unhappiness.  Nobody wants to hear why your life sucks.  Why would I unload that kind of emotional baggage onto other people?  People like to hear about the funny things, the exciting things, the enjoyable things.  They certainly don't want to hear about doubts, anxieties, frustration, sadness, anger, or loneliness.  I felt I owed it to the world to stay bright and cheerful.  To avoid polluting the air with my discontent.

And of course, there was an element of pride in there too.  If I admitted I was unhappy, it meant I was weak.  It meant I was a failure.  I had taken big risks moving away from home and pursuing a singing career.  And I so wanted to prove to others that I was right.  I wanted to be a success story.  I wanted to show that the risks I'd taken had been worth it.

Like many people, I often used social media to present a skewed, overly-positive version of my life.  And in return, I saw skewed versions of my friends' lives.  I felt a need to measure up, to show off, and to out-happy them.

The crazy thing is, for the longest time I thought this was healthy.  I thought that positivity and optimism, in any measure, at any cost, had to be good.  And if I just kept "looking on the bright side", my life would improve.  I could make myself feel happy.

"Always look on the bright side of life..."

It took me a long time to understand that I was playing a game of deception.  This kind of relentless "positivity" was not good for me.  It was a toxic lie which I was trying to sell to myself and others.  And dishonesty is never healthy for anyone.

The truth is, not all days are going to be happy ones.  Some will be good, some will be bad, and some will just be "meh".  And that’s the way it's meant to be.

Can you imagine if every day was wonderful?  It would get pretty boring after a while.  In fact, it wouldn't feel wonderful at all, because you wouldn't have any point of comparison.  You can't appreciate happiness if it's the only emotion you ever feel.  It would be like living in a world where the only colour is yellow.

"...Dave..?  Is that you...?"

Instead of holding every day to some impossible standard of "happiness", why can't we just accept where we are at the given moment?  Maybe you're feeling a bit sad right now.  That's ok.  You're also allowed to feel angry if you like.  Sometimes life really does suck.  And it's important to let yourself feel that, just like it's important to let yourself enjoy life when it's good.

At some point, the 100 happy days project fell by the wayside.  Party because I didn't have internet in my new apartment, and it was too much hassle to post every day.  But also, it didn't sit right with me anymore.  I didn't want to force myself to feel one emotion all the time.

The strange thing is, once I stopped being so self-conscious about being happy, I felt happy a lot more.  I still had my ups and downs.  And some days still passed by with nothing really special happening.  But when the good times came, I really enjoyed them.  And when the bad times came, I didn't worry that I wasn't enjoying them.  I let them pass over me.  I let myself feel what I was feeling.  And everything was ok.

What is happiness?  It's what happens to you when you stop trying to chase it.  The minute you start wondering "am I happy?", you can pretty much guarantee that you won't be.  Happiness isn't meant to be pursued, or examined, or gripped onto.  It's something that arrives without warning and leaves just as unexpectedly.

Happiness: the ultimate ninja.

It's been over a year now since I moved to Germany.  And yes, I am happy.  I'm also sad, angry, confused, pensive, anxious, and many other things on top of that.  And you know what?  I think that's ok.

On listening to your body...

Just over two months ago, my back went on strike.  Completely gave out on me.  If I so much as tried to sit up, a sharp spasm of pain shot up and down my body, freezing me in place.  I couldn't stand.  I couldn't walk.  I was paralysed by pain.

It was a rather quiet picket line.

The warning signs had been there, of course.  This had not come out of nowhere.  Since the new year I had been suffering lower back pain on and off.  Sometimes it was tolerable, only a slight twinge here and there.  Other times it had me limping stiffly, wincing every time I stepped on my right side.  I stopped running and stopped wearing heels.  I consulted a doctor, and later an orthopedist.  The orthopedist prescribed painkillers, muscle relaxants, and physiotherapy.

The pills were easy enough to swallow, but the physiotherapy was hard to keep up.  I was travelling all the time for work and saw no need to slow down.  I only made appointments when I could, between gigs.  So my treatment ended up being completely inconsistent.  Always at a random time, and always with a different therapist.  The therapists gave me exercises, but I only did them occasionally, when I had time and remembered.  Most of the time I didn't bother.

I'm not sure what exactly I was thinking.  Maybe I expected the problem to go away on its own.  Maybe I thought I could reschedule its healing for a more convenient time.  Maybe I thought it would disappear with the help of a few magical pills.  In any case, I didn't make time for my body.  I simply didn't think it was important.

So the months went by and the pain continued, and I carried on travelling and singing as usual.  Until one day I flew to Sweden with a heavy backpack, and ended up immobilised on my boyfriend’s couch.

It's a funny thing, having a body.  Most of the time you don't really think about it.  As long as everything is working, you take it for granted.  It will always be there, carrying you from place to place, digesting your food for you, and taking whatever punishment you throw its way. 

My body and I have never had what you would call a healthy relationship.  As a young girl I always resented it for being bigger than other girls' bodies.  I called it bad names.  I told it I hated it.  I cried and complained about it.

Later, in my early twenties, I became bulimic.  During this time I committed horrific atrocities against my body.  I starved it.  I overexercised it.  I stuffed it full of junk food, poisoned it with laxatives, and forced it to throw up.  All of this my body suffered quietly, without complaint.

I am no longer bulimic, but I'm still very hard on my body.  I regularly put it through long journeys, alcohol-soaked weekends, sleepless nights, and stressful auditions.  I often feed it excessive amounts of fat, salt, and sugar.  Even when I’m doing something "good" or "healthy", like exercise, I don't do it to love or nurture my body.  I do it to punish it for last night's chocolate binge, or to control its weight and size.

Regretting another night with Ben and Jerry...

And I do all these things without thinking.  Because after all, I'm young.  I can get away with this behaviour.  My body can take it.  My body is invincible.

Until it isn't.

I suppose at a certain age all these things begin to catch up with you.  The wear and tear begins to show.  And suddenly you find yourself paying dearly for transgressions which used to go by unnoticed.

Back in Sweden, I spent four days lying on that couch.  It was a surreal feeling, suddenly losing the ability to move.  Getting up to go to the bathroom was a huge ordeal.  It would take several agonising minutes to sit up.  Then I would use my boyfriend's music stand as a walking stick as I hobbled across the room slower than an arthritic 90-year-old grandma.  The pain was horrific.  Even with the maximum dosage of painkillers and anti-inflammitants – I was taking 16 pills per day – it was excruciating to move.

My "stand-in" walking stick

Gradually, I began to rely less on my "walking stick" and limp without it for longer distances.  I began to walk again – still crookedly, and still with pain, but walking nonetheless.

And so began a long and arduous healing process.  From then on, I made my health a priority.  I visited doctors, orthopedists, chiropractors, and osteopaths.  Everyone had a different idea of what exactly was wrong and what I needed to get better.  It was difficult to weed through all the different opinions.  But I tried my best not to over-rely on popping pills, to listen to my body, and to figure out what was working best for me.  I dedicated time to my body every day.  Whether it was stretching, getting a massage, or simply resting when I needed it, I made sure I was taking care of myself.

I continued to work, which was a humbling experience.  Everyone noticed my limping and could tell how much pain I was in.  People were very sympathetic.  They meant well, but their concern often frustrated me.  I wanted to be strong and independent, not an object of pity.  Of course, by this point I was accustomed to my condition.  I had accepted that for the time being, this was the state my body was in.  But to everyone else – every new colleague and employer I encountered – it came as a fresh shock.  And I grew tired of hearing their shock, of thanking them for their "gute Besserung"s and accepting their opinions and advice on what I should do.

So. Many. Opinions.

There were times when I gave in to despair.  I cried about how unfair it all was.  Why did my body hate me so much?  What had I done wrong to deserve this?  When was I ever going to feel better?

Other times I let myself think I had found a miracle cure, a definitive diagnosis.  Now it was all over and everything would be fixed.

YESS!!!

Then a few weeks later things would take another turn for the worse and my frustration would return.  Whatever I did, it seemed my body would find a new pain or affliction to hold me back.

In my more lucid moments, I would think that my body was trying to tell me something.  But what?  Did I need to travel less?  Sleep more?  Eat better?  Cut back on coffee?

It took a while before I realised that my body's message could in fact be very simple.  Maybe my body just wanted me to notice it.  To acknowledge its presence, to thank it, and to treat it with some dignity and respect.

You see, that's the other funny thing about having a body.  You don’t really have your body, do you?  Your body is a part of you.  It's who you are.  And yet we insist on using this language of ownership.  As though our bodies are something separate.  A vessel, an unthinking object, a vehicle to transport our brains from point A to point B.

For as long as I can remember I've thought of my body as something completely remote from myself.  At the best of times I've tolerated its existence.  At the worst of times, I've berated it for being so fat, so ugly, so stupid and useless.  With all these aches and pains holding me back, the temptation to scream at my body has become bigger than ever.

But I don't want to keep screaming at my body.  I want to start a new dialogue, a dialogue of patience and understanding.  I want to connect with it, listen to it, learn to love and appreciate it.  Because my body is myself.  If I don't love my body, I don't love myself, and I am neglecting a huge part of what it is to be human.

I'm building a new relationship with my body, and it won't be built overnight.  It will take a long time to undo such a long history of abuse and resentment.  I need to accept that there are no miracle cures or overnight fixes.  Like any relationship, it needs time to develop.

This is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

It's been over two months now since my back gave out on me, and the healing process is far from over.  After an MRI and a diagnosis of a bulging disc, I've been through a long stint of physiotherapy (this time with much more intensive and regular treatment).  But despite all the work in physio, all these months of limping have left me with a knee problem which just won't go away.  I begin staging for an opera in less than a week, and I'm still not able to walk completely normally.  I've had to inform the director of my physical limitations, and – perhaps even more difficult – I've had to accept for myself that I'll be working with a less-than-perfect body onstage.  It's not ideal, but it's the way things are.  And no amount of railing against fate or cursing my body will change that.

The best I can do now is to keep loving my body.  Nurture it, cherish it, thank it for everything it does.  And trust that in time, with the proper love and care, it will find its own way to heal.