Brilliant Books (Part 1)

As a singer and a writer, I do a lot of reading.  And I'm not just talking about Shopaholic here.

Although, I do love those books.

I mean books which inform my singing and my approach to my career.  There are some fantastic authors out there whose books can completely change your outlook on singing and life.  Whether it's performance psychology, biography, or spirituality, these authors' writings have been powerful sources of inspiration and insight for me.  Here are a few books which I've read recently, and would like to recommend:

Bounce – Matthew Syed

Matthew Syed has a remarkable talent: coming from an average middle-class family in Reading, he rose to stardom as a table tennis player, winning several world championships.  Surely he was blessed with talent, born to play table tennis.

Hold on though – that’s not the whole story.  Syed may have been born in an average middle class family, but he was also brought up in some fortunate circumstances for a budding table tennis champion.  First of all, when he was very little his parents bought a tennis table and set it up in their garage.  Secondly, he happened to have an older brother who was eager to play table tennis with him all the time.  And he happened to go to a school where a top table tennis coach was teaching.  As Syed got older and racked up hours playing in his garage, he became quite a good player and his teacher noticed him.  Soon he was receiving world-class coaching from his teacher and getting 24-hour access to the local table tennis club, where he could practise to his heart's content.  All of these advantages allowed him to spend years of focused practice building his talent.

In Bounce, Matthew Syed aims to de-bunk the myth that talent is something you're born with.  From Tiger Woods to Venus and Serena Williams, he explains how every world-class performer and athlete is the product of years of hard work – and not simply the lucky recipient of some God-given gift.  What we call "talent" is actually a combination of opportunity, motivation, great teaching, and mindful practice.  Even Mozart, the classic child prodigy, was not born a great musician.  Rather, he began music at an unusually early age under the guidance of his father – a renowned music pedagogue.  It was not until approximately ten years into his training that he began creating his great works.  Yes, these works were composed at an unusually young age, but that's only because he began earlier than most and had an excellent teacher to help him on the way.

Looking at talent from this angle, we reach an amazing revelation.  Talent is not just a gift bestowed upon the chosen few.  It's something that anyone can earn with enough work.  In other words, if you invest in the right teacher, the right coach, the right practice facilities, if you spend enough time practising deliberately (i.e. not just mindless repetition) – you will eventually get where you want to be.  Bounce is an inspiring book for anyone aspiring to build their chosen skill to a world-class level.  I can't recommend it highly enough.

The Talent Code – Daniel Coyle

Do you know what myelin is?  Neither did I, before I started this book.  Myelin is what you build when you practise.  Every time you fire a certain sequence of nerves to do a specific action – whether it's swinging a tennis racket or singing a top A – myelin wraps around these nerves to insulate them and make them perform more efficiently.  After practising the same action several times, these nerves will be wrapped thickly in myelin, causing them to work at expert speed and precision.  Myelin is the scientific explanation for why practice makes perfect, and it's captivating neuroscientists everywhere.  In The Talent Code, Daniel Coyle explores the science of practice and how great talent is really created.

Cross-section of a nerve wrapped in myelin.

Of course, not just any kind of practice will make you great.  In order to build up myelin and develop a skill, you have to do "Deep Practice".  This type of practice is focused, precise, and often slow, and works to constantly stretch you beyond the edge of your abilities.  Beyond practising, Coyle also discusses two other essential elements to building great talent: "Ignition" – powerful sources of inspiration which light a fire under you to get practising – and Master Coaches – expert teachers who know just how to guide your progress.

I found this book to be a fascinating and inspiring read.  Coyle described numerous case studies of "talent hotbeds" – places where great talent is developed, from football players to chess masters to concert violinists.  Like Matthew Syed, he takes the angle that talent is grown, not born.  And that's an idea in which we can all find hope.  His writing is colourful and personable – he really takes the time to paint a picture of each situation so that you feel that you yourself are in conversation with the same expert baseball coach, or world-class pianist.  This book was truly a pleasure to read.

A New Earth – Eckhart Tolle

Ok, I know what you're thinking.  When I see something "new-agey" like this, my bullshit alarms start ringing.  But hear me out here.  This book has a lot to offer.

My teacher recommended this book to me several months ago, and it was a long and arduous process getting through the whole thing.  Tolle's writing is intense – he packs a lot of into each page.  And they're big ideas, the kind that take a long time to wrap your head around.  But I promise you that if you take the time to read this book in full, you will reach some huge life-changing realisations about yourself and the world around you.  And in turn, this will have an enormous influence on your approach to your craft and your career.

Tolle is a world-renowned spiritual writer and speaker.  He is probably known best for his book, The Power of Now.  However, if you are completely new to Tolle's ideas, then A New Earth is an easier and more accessible read.  In it, Tolle talks about the dangerous tricks and illusions which our ego plays with us.  He discusses how to escape the traps of negativity and overthinking, and how to find peace and live in the present moment.  It's all pretty esoteric stuff.  But I think this kind of spiritual understanding is vital for anyone, especially those working in the arts.  As artists, it's very easy for us to get caught up in negative thinking patterns and become extremely unhappy.  We work in a difficult career that's full of ego and competition.  Reading books like this can help us to transform our approach to life, making us happier and more well-balanced people.

If I'm being perfectly honest, there were some bits in the book which had me rolling my eyes.  You know what I mean – the airy-fairy pseudoscience claims which have no basis in reality whatsoever.  But once you sift these bits away, there is a lot of valuable spiritual insight in the book.  I often found myself chuckling and shaking my head as I read, recognising my own bad habits and emotional foibles in the pages.  There is a lot of truth in this book, and I think it’s a very important read.

Check out next week's post for some more great reads!

On speaking like a German (Part 2)...

I had so much fun writing my last post on speaking like a German that I couldn't resist writing another installment.  After all, there are just so many delightful words and phrases in my adopted language.  Here are a few more...

Fleißig – You know when someone's a real keener, a teacher's pet?  Well that's kind of what "fleißig" means.  When someone is being very fleißig, it means they’re extremely diligent and conscientious.  They do all the right things all the time.  They’re industrious and studious, always working very hard.  You probably kind of hate them.

Ugh, soo fleißig...

Kaputt – Such an apt word that we've started using it in English.  Kaputt means broken, busted, wrecked, finished - totally and completely out of order.  You could use it to describe something that isn't working anymore, like your computer.  Or you could even use it to refer to yourself after a particularly long and stressful day.  A very useful word indeed.

Ach so – An essential pondering sound.  This is what a German says when someone has corrected or clarified something for them.  As they process this new information and consider the situation in a new light, they say "ach soooo" and trail off thoughtfully.  It's kind of like saying "ooOOohhhh", but more specifically, it kind of implies the idea, "this changes everything."  To say "ach so" like a true German, be sure to linger with real emphasis on the "soooo".  And don't forget to really close that "o".

Geil – Literally, this word means "horny".  But over the last few years it's evolved to mean the same thing as "awesome" or "wicked" in English.  It's kind of like when Paris Hilton started calling everything "hot".

"That's hot."

If something is really really cool you might say that it’s "supergeil" - as is demonstrated by this extremely strange German supermarket ad.

Punkt – The epitome of German bluntness.  This is the word you use when you have nothing more to say on the subject, and want to avoid any further discussion.  Punkt.  Period.  End of story.

Bwoahhh – Spelling has been approximated.  This is the sound a German makes when they're really impressed with something.  Bwoahh, look at the size of that fish!  Bwoahh, that cake looks amazing!  Bwoahhh...  And so on.

Egal – A shortening of "es ist mir egal", literally "it’s equal to me."  In other words, I don’t give a shit.  Must be said dismissively with a casual shrug of the shoulders.

Total – Much like the English word "totally".  Germans use this word as a qualifier all the time.  It’s not just impossible, it’s total impossible.  It’s not just Scheiße, it’s total Scheiße.  Unlike the English "total", the German "total" can be recognised by its two crisp explosive t’s, a very closed "o", and the emphasis on the second syllable: "Toh-Tahhhl".  This makes the word much more strong and emphatic, and lets you know that a German really means business.

Gleichfalls – Similar to the English "likewise".  A useful little shortcut when you want to avoid repeating an entire phrase back to someone.  If someone tells you to have a nice day, simply respond with "gleichfalls" and they'll understand that you wish them the same thing.  It's like saying "right back atcha, kid."

Doof – Pronounced "dohhh-f".  Again, a long and extremely closed "o" is essential here.  This is a very descriptive word meaning stupid or foolish.  I love how dull it sounds.  Even saying it makes you sound dumb.

Quatsch – Nonsense, hogwash, rubbish.  Something that's total baloney.  Again, I love how descriptive this word is.  It sounds like something wet and messy which shouldn't be there.  The next time someone's bullshitting you, try declaring "Quatsch!" in an accusatory tone.  Tell me that sound doesn't make them think twice about what they just said.

Pech – In English, you either have good luck or you have bad luck.  They're two varieties of the same concept.  But Germans have two completely different words for luck.  "Glück" is the positive word, meaning good luck, while "Pech" is the negative word, meaning bad luck.  If you've had a hard time of it lately, you've really had some Pech.

Spinnen – This literally means to spin, but it also has a colloquial use.  To "spin" is to be crazy.  Yes, that's right.  There’s a verb for being crazy.  When someone's talking Quatsch, you might tell them that they're "spinning".  It’s kind of like saying that they're trippin'.  Only not quite as gangsta.

Jooo – There's a charming little habit which I like to call The German Pout.  When you ask a German a question and they want to politely consider it, rather than dismissing it outright, they round their lips into a little pout.  Thus a thoughtful "ja…" becomes something more like "jooo…"  The more uncertain they are about the question, the further they will pout their lips as they mull it over.  Sometimes they even smack their lips a bit, as if they’re tasting the idea.  I’m not even joking here.

Hübsch – Pretty, cute, lovely, handsome… basically, very good-looking.  If a German comments "Hübsch" on your facebook photo, you should take it as a real compliment.

Dutzen – As in many languages, German has a formal and informal version of the word "you".  "Sie" is for older people, strangers, or authority figures.  "Du" is for younger people or friends.  So when your friendship with someone reaches a new level, they might tell you that you can "dutzen" them.  In other words, you may now address them with the less formal "du".

Natürlich – Naturally, of course.  This word can be used in a friendly way.  "Can I sit here?"  "Why yes, natürlich!"  It can also be used in a condescending way, as in "duh, that should be obvious."  "Is this your seat?"  "Ja, natürlich."

Gar – Another qualifying word, similar to "total".  Used to really emphasise a statement.  I know a certain conductor who, when he gets frustrated, likes to burst out with "das geht aber gar nicht!"  The closest English translation I can find for this is "that will never do at all!"  But somehow that doesn't sound quite as strong or angry as the German equivalent.

Bummeln – Tell me I'm not the only one who giggles upon hearing this word!  To "bummeln" is to hang around and do nothing in particular.  It might also mean wandering around and window-shopping.  It's sort of like the English word "loitering", but I find it much more evocative.  It just sounds so lazy.  It makes me think of "bumming around" in my comfiest pair of sweatpants and a baggy old hoodie.

Yeah, this is the life...

The more I learn this language, the more I discover delicious words like these ones.  German is just full of irresistable linguistic gems.  So be sure to look out for my next installment of "speaking like a German" - it should be out within a couple of months...

On dealing with uncertainty...

Good things come to those who wait.  A nice little saying, and probably true.  But how does one go about waiting in the first place?

As a freelance singer, I do an awful lot of waiting.  Waiting to go onstage, waiting to catch a train, waiting to sing an audition.  But the hardest kind of waiting is the kind that comes after the audition or application submission.  What will the verdict be?  Is it a yes?  Is it a no?  Will I even get a response at all?

We the jury find the defendant to be guilty of good singing.

On shows like American Idol and The Voice, the audience gets to watch a performance and then immediately see the judges’ response.  This is an entertaining way to present auditions to the public.  But it doesn't work that way in the real music industry.  Most auditions don't provide instant feedback.  Usually it's just a “thank you for coming” and a “we'll let you know.”  Audition panels have spent a lot of time practising their niceties and their poker faces.  So you often leave the audition without an inkling of how well you did.  All that's left is to go home and wait.

It's all very anticlimactic.  You dedicate hours upon hours to perfecting your audition repertoire.  You carefully research new opportunities suitable for your level and background.  You invest in making a good-quality recording.  You read and re-read your CV about a thousand times to check for mistakes.  And after all that work, it's over in a matter of minutes.  You click “send”, or you sing a ten-minute audition, and that's it.

Sometimes I sing an audition and then promptly forget about it.  I have so many other things to think about that I don't have time to worry.  I might remember it every once and a while, and say absently, “oh I still haven't heard back from so-and-so.”  But it doesn't take over my life.  It doesn't consume me.

The real danger comes when I hit a dry spell, and I seem to have all the time in the world to fret and deliberate about an impending response.

Wishing, and hoping, and thinking, and praying...

The sight of an empty calendar is terrifying for a freelancer.  Unless you have savings to fall back on, it can spell danger.  It’s hard not to worry about empty weeks or months that lie ahead.  Even when the next few months are full, if you look far enough ahead you might still see that horrible blankness.  And you can't help but wonder, what if it never gets filled up?

And what do you do about those blank spaces?  Do you wait and hope that something comes up?  Do you start looking for a day job to pay the bills?  And what if you get a day job, only to be offered some singing work at the last minute?  What if the day job prevents you from travelling to important auditions, or sucks up all of your precious practising time?  There are so many uncertainties to consider.

Horrifying.

Every freelancer deals with these blank spaces in the calendar.  They might feel confident that more work will come.  They might even be accustomed to the normal rhythm of their work cycle: they know when to expect dry spells, and they plan ahead for them.  But even a veteran freelancer can be caught unawares by a dry spell.  Perhaps you know companies who employ you regularly, but that doesn't mean you can count on their loyalty.  Someone new might do a fantastic audition and bump you down to a lower spot on the list.  A new director might decide you're not right for the role after all.  Nothing is certain until a contract has been signed.  Sometimes a company decides they have to trim the fat – and it turns out that the fat includes you.

The only certainty in a freelancer's life is uncertainty.  Our work lies in a precarious place, forever yo-yoing between boom and bust.  Sometimes we're insanely busy, and other times the phone refuses to ring.  You never know when you'll be left at home, twiddling your thumbs and worrying about the future.

And so it’s times like this that I struggle.  My whole occupation, my entire life’s meaning, seems to be based on waiting.  Practising, sending out CVs, and waiting.  I don't feel like a singer at all – I feel like a professional waiter.

No, not that kind.

Most people will give some idea of how long you have to wait.  We'll contact you next week, they'll say.  We'll write to you by Smarch 11^th.  

Lousy Smarch weather...

But often these promises mean nothing.  And you'll get a letter several weeks down the line, with an apology and a reference to the “great number of applicants.”

Some people – the very worst if you ask me – don't even respond at all.  Not only are they rejecting you, but they can't even be bothered taking the time to write you a letter to let you know.

All in all, the whole thing leaves you feeling rather powerless.  There are so many factors which are out of your control.  The number of other applicants, and the standard of their singing.  The personal taste of the conductor.  The economics of the business.  The internal politics of the company.  The artistic vision of the director.  It feels like you're a puppet being pulled around, at the mercy of everyone else's whims.

Dance, puppet, dance!

But a lot of these things are also out of the company's control.  They can't control which funders make cuts or bail out completely.  They can't control how competitive the industry has become.  Sure, maybe they haven't had the courtesy to write a rejection letter.  But it's probably because they've been completely overwhelmed with applications, and can barely keep their heads above water.  It’s important to remember that like you, the other side is only human.

So rather than pointing fingers at anyone else, it's important to remember the things which you can control.  You may not be able to control who buys your “product”, but you can work hard to make sure it's a the very best product you can offer.  Invest in good lessons and coachings, and dedicate your time to efficient, focused practice.  Study suitable roles for your voice.  Stay in good physical shape by working out regularly.  Take acting lessons, or dancing lessons.  Attend performances of artists your admire.

And be proactive.  Seek out as many opportunities as possible.  Do your research online and through word of mouth.  Make useful contacts.  Always keep your ear to the ground for upcoming auditions.  Remember, the more seeds you plant, the more likely you are to have a harvest.  So increase your odds and get planting!

You never know which seeds might sprout.

Once that’s all been said and done, it's out of your hands.  You can give the best audition possible and still not get the part.  It could be the panel doesn't like the way you ornament your Handel aria, or they want you to be shorter than the leading tenor.  Or – brace yourself – it could be that they just don’t like you.

Finally, try to embrace the dry spells when they do come.  You can always find a positive way to use this time.  Maybe nobody is offering you work on a silver platter, but that doesn't mean you can't make work for yourself.  Try organising a recital with friends, or even starting a new ensemble.  I've been using my empty time in the last couple of months to take a German course.  Now my German is at a higher level - and I know that will be a huge asset when searching for work.  Dry spells don't have to be so scary.  They can be an exciting challenge, a catalyst for change.  They encourage us to be creative and find new ways to invest in our future.

The fact is that a lot of this business is out of our control.  It's a combination of politics, economics, personal taste and luck.  For our part, the best we can do is to persevere.  Keep working on our craft, and improve our odds by sending out more applications.  And keep the faith, as difficult as that may be.  Because you never know what the universe might have in store for you next.

On being a Travelling Professional...

I'd like to introduce a new term here: a Travelling Professional.  A Travelling Professional is someone who, like me, has to travel a lot for their work. We can call it "TP" for short.

Actually no.  Let's not call it that.

Are you a Travelling Professional?  Perhaps you're not sure.  Perhaps you definitely are.  Perhaps you’re definitely not, but you’d still like something amusing to read on a Sunday.  In any case, here’s a helpful little list.

You know you’re a Travelling Professional when…

1. All airports and train stations look the same to you.

You don’t notice anymore if you’re in Tokyo or Amsterdam.  All you see is that you’re in an airport, or you’re in a train station.  They've all kind of melded into one big glass-and-concrete structure in your mind, because the only thing you really care about is where you’re going.  You know all those sculptures and installations and special exhibits that people put in airports, to try to make them unique?  Yeah.  Those don’t work.  You might look at them with a passing interest, but all you really care about is buying a sandwich and getting to the right gate or platform.

2. You’re always confusing your languages and currencies.

You tend to get just a little bit mixed up.  You might try to pay with Yen in Finland, or start speaking Italian in Germany.  When you're visiting so many countries in so little time, it seems impossible to keep track of where you are!  Last week I managed to speak French pretty well in Paris, but I kept unconsciously peppering it with German words: aber, und, oder, and so on.  I think the French were a little confused.

Not sure if this girl is part German.. or just crazy.....

3. You’re sick of going to restaurants.

When you’re travelling, restaurants become part of the daily grind.  It might seem nice at first, but after a while the novelty wears off.  You get pretty tired of letting a menu dictate what you’re going have for dinner tonight.  Even the nicest restaurant meal can never replace the pleasure of something cooked at home.  There’s just something so satisfying about deciding what you want to eat, buying the ingredients, and going home to make it.  Last year I spent most of December in a hotel in Stuttgart, and it didn't take me very long to get sick of the local restaurants.  When I came home for Christmas, I had no interest in the standard seasonal fat-and-carbs fest.  Instead I was desperate for fresh fruit, vegetables, and wholesome home-cooked meals.

All I want for Christmas is... salad.

4. You are accustomed to doing things practically everywhere.

Whether it’s doing your makeup on the train or warming up for an audition in a bathroom stall, you’re pretty adaptable.  You used to think brushing your teeth at the airport was weird.  Now?  It’s par for the course.

5. You find yourself feeling irrational rage towards perfect strangers.

Drivers get road rage and travelers get – travel rage.  When you’re tired and stressed, it doesn't take much to set you off.  Just the other day I was on a train, and there were two small boys playing and babbling to each other.  They weren't being whiny or causing any trouble.  They were just being kids.  Normally I would find the whole thing adorable.  But under the circumstances, I hated them.  This is what travel rage does to you.  I was once on a train in sitting in front of a woman munching on carrots, and I was so irritated that I wanted to throttle her.

6. Free Wifi is like the Holy Grail.

You search for it everywhere.  Maybe you’ll be lucky enough to have it in your hotel, but this is never a guarantee.  Of course, there are a lot of networks which claim to be free WiFi, but they can’t all be trusted.  Many are the times that you've clicked on a hopeful-looking network, only to be asked for an email address and credit card details.  The truly free WiFi signal is a rare and coveted prize indeed.  Travelers will trek from cafe to lonely cafe in search of its power.  This is why I often end up eating at Starbucks.  It’s the only way to check my emails.

7. You are extremely conscious of your nationality.

I never gave much thought to being Canadian when I lived in Canada.  Now that I’m abroad, I think about my Canadian-ness all the time.  People often ask where I’m from, and then follow up with questions about Canadian sports or politics.  I often find myself getting into rather intense and lengthy discussions about my country.  I would never have any of these conversations back home.  But over here it’s different.  I’m not just me.  I’m an unofficial representative of Canada.  In fact, I would go even further than that: apparently I am Canada.  “He’s Canadian, you know” they’ll say, and give me a pointed look.  As if I’m somehow personally responsible for every other Canadian person or thing in the world.  A couple of months ago, a Spanish friend approached me and gave his congratulations.  Congratulations? I asked.  Congratulations for what?  He explained that Alice Munro, a Canadian author, had just won the Nobel Prize in Literature.  I guess I must have had a hand in that somehow?

Alright Alice, I'll expect my share of the prize money in the mail.

8. You often wake up disoriented.

Wait, whose bed is this?  Which room am I in?  Which hotel?  Which city?  Which country??  It’s a really weird feeling.  But you’re kind of used to it by now.

9. Your friends don’t get it – you’re not on holiday.

Your friends might express jealousy when you tell them you’re going to Madrid.  What they don’t understand is that travelling for work is completely different from going on vacation.  You’re not going there to see the sights or lounge on the beach.  You’re going there to work!  Although I was in Paris for five days last week, I never saw the Louvre or the Eiffel Tower.  I tried to fit in a visit to the Musée d'Orsay, but it never worked out.  And while I've spent several months working in Stuttgart, I've never done a single touristy thing there.  Much as we would like to be, Travelling Professionals are not tourists.

10. You have become a bit of a travel snob.

You've done this travelling thing so many times that you've got it down to a well-choreographed routine.  And you can’t believe that other people haven’t.  When someone packs liquids in their hand luggage, or takes a million years to go through security, you can’t help but roll your eyes at them.  What an amateur.

You're actually listening to the safety announcements on the plane??
LOSER!!

It’s a special way of life, this constant travelling.  It’s certainly not for the faint of heart.  Sometimes it’s really fun and exciting, and other times it’s extremely stressful.  Most of the times, though, it’s just Work.  An abnormal lifestyle that’s somehow become normal.  So to all you Travelling Professionals out there, I just want to say – I feel ya.  Oh, and also? Let me know if you find any free WiFi.

On being unfinished...

Last June I had a lesson with a new teacher.  He was very well-known, and came highly recommended by my friends.  People raved to me about the progress he had helped them to make in their singing  So naturally I was curious.

The lesson began, and after a bit of friendly chat, I sang my showpiece aria for him.  And then he started in on me.

He tore my singing to pieces.  Everything had to be done differently - completely differently.  I started the aria again, he stopped me after almost every note.  It was an extremely frustrating process.  We hardly got through the first page before the lesson was done.

The experience upset me very much.  At the time, I was at the end of my year at the opera studio, and I thought I was singing with a very good technique.  Naturally, with graduation only weeks away, I wanted to believe I was a finished product.  I wanted to think of myself as "ready" for the profession.

All tied up and ready to go.

But this man was telling me that I was wrong.  This man was telling me that I still had a lot of work to do.  He thought I had to re-learn my approach to singing completely.

I never went back for another lesson.

In September I moved to Cologne.  It was a new city, a new beginning.  And I was looking for a new teacher.  My friend recommended his teacher, who had an excellent reputation throughout Europe and North America.  I was intrigued, and after observing my friend's lesson I had a lesson of my own.

Like the teacher I had met in June, this teacher wanted to change my approach to singing.  Once again, I was told that I had to make big changes to my technique.  "Brynne," he said, "you have a lot of work to do."

It was a terrifying thing to hear.  But this time I was ready to hear it.  In June I had thought of myself as reaching an end.  Now I felt I was starting out again, and I was able to approach the lesson with an open mind.  So I took in what he said.  I got down to work.  And gradually I began to hear significant changes in my singing.

Nobody ever wants to hear that they have a lot of work to do.  But the truth is, we always do.  A singer's work never stops.  We are on a never-ending road of progression.

It just. Keeps. Going.

Since September, I've continued studying with my new teacher.  It's hard work, but it has its rewards.  I've just come back from a four-day masterclass with him in Paris.  It was an amazing week of inspiration and learning.  I feel like I've made a big leap forward in my singing - and I've watched other singers do the same.

A masterclass can be a transformative experience.  You have the opportunity to work intensively on your craft with an expert teacher.  Furthermore, you are in the company of several other singers who are doing the same.  Singers of every age and level attend masterclasses.  From young students to experienced professionals, we all have the same desire to continue working on our voices.

Singing can be a lonely profession.  Once you're out of education, you develop your voice and your career largely in isolation.  Sometimes you find yourself wondering, am I doing the right things?  Am I on the right track?  Am I the only one struggling here?

Is anybody else out there??

Which is why it is so wonderful to spend time with other singers in a masterclass.  It puts everything into perspective.  Suddenly you realise that you're not alone.  In my class this week there were many different voice types and styles.  There were light lyric voices and enormous dramatic voices.  High sopranos and low bass-baritones.  We even had a couple of singers who performed musical theatre and pop.  But regardless of everyone's individual vocal identity, we all had something in common.  We were all on the same road.

It was humbling to witness the talent and hard work of the other singers in the class.  And we learned so much from watching each other learn.  We empathised with each other's struggles, and we shared feedback about what we had heard.  We often exchanged opinions and experiences over coffee, lunch, and dinner.  It was a privilege to be in such friendly and sympathetic company.

Some magical things can happen in a masterclass.  When so many singers get together, all intent upon learning, there's a special kind of energy in the room.  You often find yourself trying things you might never have dared to try before.  You go further, you dare more, and you understand more deeply.  And you recognise some important truths about yourself.

You know when you're in a lesson, and something suddenly clicks for you?  Like you've had a "Eureka" moment?  Well, these moments happen even more in the intense atmosphere of a masterclass.  Often you hear or see something from another singer, and you suddenly understand something very important for yourself.  We all had thousands of these "Eureka" moments throughout the masterclass.  In fact, I don't think there would be enough bathtubs in Paris to provide for all of them!

It was an intense four days.  A lot of ideas and emotions to be taken in.  And on the evening of the fourth and final day, we gave a concert.

It was a daunting task to perform our pieces after so much precise and detailed work.  Suddenly we had to take everything we'd learned and put it into practice.  And what was more, we had to really perform our pieces.  We couldn't just stand there looking like we were solving a math problem while we thought about our technique.  We had to be in character.  We had to smile and sob and scream, all the while not letting on that we were thinking about our upper passaggio.  It felt a bit like rubbing your tummy and patting your head.

Nevertheless, everyone seemed to pull it off with panache.  I was amazed to hear people incorporating what they had learned into their performance.  And it was a real pleasure to watch everyone sing in full performance mode, dress shoes and all.  We all finished the concert with a feeling of euphoria.  We had accomplished so much!

But as we celebrated over wine and curry, we were all brought swiftly back to reality.  One by one, our teacher began taking us aside to give us feedback.  And he didn't pull any punches.  He recognised the progress each of us had made, but he also told us where we had faltered and what we needed to work on.

Despite our accomplishments this week, we still have a lot of work to do.  Because there will always be a lot of work to do.  This is what our teacher wanted us to understand.  That it's never safe to rest on your laurels.

Don't rest on your Laurels.  Don't rest on your Hardys either.

When you give a performance, you like to think of yourself as polished and complete.  A finished product.  But the truth is that noone is ever a finished product.  A performance, no matter how successful, is only ever a snapshot of where you are right now.  It's one moment on a never-ending path of improvement.

The greatest challenge of singing is that no matter where you are on your path, no matter what you're learning, you still have to be able to drop everything and perform.  When the moment arrives, be it an audition or an opening night, you have to put on the best show that you can.  Give yourself to the moment, accept where you are now, and show it off to the best advantage possible.

We are all a work in progress.  We pursue a challenging and relentless learning process that never ends.  But that's the reason we chose to be a singer in the first place.  Because we'll never stop learning.  We'll never stop improving.  And we'll never stop trying to be the best that we can be.

On storytelling...

Who doesn't love a good story?  As children we beg our parents for one more fairytale before bedtime.  Or we sit by the campfire, enraptured and terrified by a gripping ghost story.

"And then they told her... the calls were coming from outside the house!
Wait, no, I got that wrong..."

As we grow older we find our own ways to pursue exciting stories, whether through books, films, or television.  We seek out stories wherever we go.  This passion for narrative is an intrinsic part of human nature.  It’s inscribed deeply in our DNA.

But what if some stories are bad for us?  What if some narratives in our life are holding us back, deceiving us, or even damaging us?

Every day you tell yourself millions of little stories.  It’s a coping mechanism, a way to make sense of yourself and the world.  Take this story, for instance: my name is Angela, I’m a British soprano and I study in Germany.

Hi Angela.  Love the side ponytail.

At first glance, this story seems helpful.  It gives Angela an identity, a place in the world.  But it also places limits on her.  Certainly Angela is so much more than her name, nationality, voice type, and place of study.  And yet every day she is telling herself that that is all she is.  She is boxing herself in with her own words.

Is being a British soprano the essence of Angela’s existence?  Is studying in Germany the meaning of her life?  Of course not.  But if she identifies with this story too much, she is putting herself in a very small and precarious place.  What if one of these labels were taken away from her?  For instance, what if she changed from a soprano to a mezzo-soprano?  She might feel lost, desperate, hopeless.  She has clung to her story so much that she doesn't know what to do without it.

We all cling to stories like this, for many different reasons.  They comfort us in an uncertain world.  They help us to interpret events, to understand people, or to create a series of logical cause-and-effect relationships.  And often, they add a bit drama to our everyday lives.  

That's right.  We're all a bit of a drama queen.

But clinging to these kinds of stories can be extremely dangerous.  Why?  Because we forget that they’re stories.  We forget that they're based in our minds, and not in reality.

For every event in your life, there are two layers: the bare facts, and the emotional filter through which you perceive them.  For instance, you might be sitting on a streetcar and notice that someone is staring at you.  If you are feeling particularly insecure about your appearance that day, you might think to yourself, he’s staring because my outfit looks stupid.  You have no idea if this thought is true.  These are the only facts you know: you’re sitting on a streetcar, and someone is staring.  Everything else is a product of your mind – a story which your emotions are projecting onto the situation.

Nonetheless, you might believe this story.  You might choose to identify with it.  And in doing so, you are mistaking a story for the truth.  You are creating a negative reality for yourself out of thin air.  It's completely nuts!  And yet we do this to ourselves all the time.

Have you ever choked in an important audition or performance?  I certainly have.  One particular audition comes to mind.  Around this time last year I was heading to Amsterdam to audition for a prestigious opera academy.  I had auditioned for the same opera academy the year before, and had come very close to winning a place.  This time I was determined to get in.  I had convinced myself that this was it.  The be-all, end-all of auditions.  I had to win a place in this opera academy, because it was the very best thing for me to do next.  In fact, it was the only thing to do next.

Now.  Of course the opera academy wasn't the only thing I could do next.  The world is an enormous place full of innumerable chances and opportunities for a young singer like me.  There are millions of jobs and young artist programmes outside of this one opera academy in Amsterdam.  But at the time, I didn't see that.  I was blind to everything except this audition.  I told myself that I had to win it, and there was no other option.

So what happened?  Well first of all, I became extremely anxious.  For weeks leading up to this audition, I couldn't sleep properly.  My arias ran through my head constantly.  Eventually my immune system couldn't handle the stress anymore, and I contracted tonsillitis.  I was prescribed antibiotics, but they made me sick to my stomach.  I arrived on the day of the audition feeling stressed out, exhausted, and incredibly nauseous.

Needless to say, it wasn't my best performance.  I didn't even make it to the second round of auditions.  I was pretty crushed.  And it took me a long time before I could look back and see how I had sabotaged myself.

In getting psyched up for this audition, I had told myself an extremely dangerous story.  I had created a psychological drama, in which the audition had all the power in the world to decide if I was a good singer.  I had made myself completely terrified of the audition and its result.  It was no wonder that I failed so spectacularly!

In contrast, last week I had another audition, for which I had barely enough time to prepare.  I had received a phone call on Monday asking me to come in on Thursday!  This gave me just enough time to brush up my arias and re-learn an excerpt in a blitz of focused practice.  Before I knew it I was onstage, singing my audition.

And I nailed it.

WHAT THE WHAT??!!!

Why did I nail this audition, while I choked on the one in Amsterdam?  I had spent months preparing for the audition in Amsterdam, polishing my arias with expert coaches and perfecting them with trusted teachers.  This audition, in contrast, was prepared at the last minute, over the span of three days.

The truth is that my success in this audition had nothing to do with how I had prepared my arias.  It had everything to do with how I had prepared myself mentally.  Or rather, how I didn't prepare myself mentally.  Since I only had three days before this audition, I didn't have time to get nervous.  I didn't have time to tell myself a story, building up the audition in my head until it crushed me.

Of course, as soon as this audition was over, I found the time to tell myself a story.  I reflected on my success, and I found a way to excuse it.  They must not have had a very high standard, I told myself.  That’s why I did so well.  Even after doing something well, I found a way to transform it into a story of failure.

Does this way of thinking sound familiar to you?  Have you ever diminished your successes, or rejected someone’s praise?  Just like some people see the world through rose-tinted glasses, others choose to look through shades of grey.  We find ways to twist reality, no matter what it looks like, into a picture of negativity.

A less-than-inspiring way to view the world.

The truth is that you did succeed.  The truth is that the person complimenting you did enjoy your performance.  These are objective facts, and yet you manage to obscure them from your vision completely.  You project your own negative emotions and beliefs onto the situation, and turn it into something else.  If only you could take off your grey shades for just a moment, you would see the truth for what it is.  But your urge for storytelling is too strong.  And once again, you deceive yourself.

Next time you find yourself reacting strongly to a situation, try to take a step back.  Separate the facts from the fiction.  What is the truth, and what is the story you’re telling yourself?  You might have many good reasons to believe this story.  Perhaps it helps to reinforce some deep-seated belief about yourself or the world.  Perhaps it gives you some drama you’re craving, or it feeds your ego.  There may be several reasons to find your story compelling.  But it’s important to see your story for what it is – fantasy, conjecture, emotional guesswork.  No more real than the monsters under your bed.

We all love a good story.  Unfortunately, we often love a bad story too.  Our perceptions and interpretations of the world can cripple us if we let them.  This is why it’s important to recognise our mind’s stories when we hear them.  The minute we see them for what they are, they lose their power over us.

The stories we tell ourselves can be extremely convincing.  But they will only ever be as real as we allow them to be.

On getting back to business...

Ah, January.  A time of rebirth.  A time of new beginnings.  A time of resolutions and personal growth.

Yeah, right.

The truth is, January isn't quite the inspiring time that it’s meant to be.  Despite all the fireworks and New Years hype, most of us greet January with a world-weary sigh.  The holidays are over.  It’s back to business as usual.  Christmas has left us overweight, overspent, and exhausted.  And now we have to haul our figgy-pudding-filled selves back to the everyday grind of work.  This is why the third Monday of January is known as "Blue Monday", the most depressing day of the year.  We’re like a horde of cranky children throwing a fit.  We just don’t want to go back to school.

You might think that returning to work is easier for a freelance musician.  After all, our work consists of doing what we love.  Don’t we spend all day making music, pursuing our deepest passion?

If only it were that easy.  While we do spend many hours making music, we also spend a lot of time doing non-musical work.  Sending emails, placing phone calls, booking flights, writing applications, and making out invoices.  This is the dreaded un-fun side of the job.  The never-ending list of administrative tasks.  The business behind the art.

In large-scale arts companies, this non-musical work is split up among a team of specially dedicated professionals.  The musicians deal with the music and the management deals with everything else.  Individual artists, when they are established enough to afford it, will also delegate their administrative work.  They might hire an accountant to do their taxes, an agent to book their gigs, or a personal assistant to take phone calls and manage paperwork.  But many of us don’t have the luxury of separating the business from our art.  We have to be our own agent, accountant, and personal assistant, all rolled into one.

The freelance musician: a Jack-of-all-trades.

If you're living in the UK, January means one thing and one thing only: the dreaded annual tax return.  Being self-employed can make your taxes more complicated than string theory.  You will have several different employers throughout the year, all with different tax codes.  And as if this messy hodge-podge of income sources wasn't bad enough, there's the matter of tracking business expenses.  Every penny you spend for your music should be accounted for.  The problem is, nobody is entirely sure what counts as a business expense.  Do you claim makeup and hair products, if you sometimes use them for auditions?  Do you claim heating bills if you teach or practise out of your home?  Musicians are constantly debating over these questions, and nobody ever seems to reach a solid conclusion.  The fact is that there are a lot of blurred lines in the music business.  Nobody knows quite where their business ends and their life begins.

If you work abroad, a tax return can get even more complicated.  The various tax laws and treaties between countries are enough to confuse an expert in international law.  Then again, your employer might decide to simplify things by charging a “foreigners tax”.  In other words, he will take a pickaxe to your paycheque and chisel off giant chunks until it's no longer recognisable as money.

This is your pay after foreigners tax.

When I first became self-employed, I was not at all prepared for the Gordonian Knot of paperwork that awaited me.  I hadn't kept track of anything.  When the time came to do my tax return, I was in for a nasty surprise!  Nowadays I’m fairly fastidious with my records.  I keep a diary of my income and expenses, marking down the date, location, and project for each receipt.  It’s tedious work, but I know it will make things much easier when I file my taxes.

Beyond the complicated world of taxes, there is of course the tricky matter of booking work in the first place.  This would be no problem if the work was regular, but it's not.  Music is a business of feast and famine.  Some weeks you will be inundated with offers, and other weeks you’ll be left twiddling your thumbs.  Music companies seem to have an irritating tendency of scheduling all their performances at the same time, instead of spreading them out evenly throughout the year.  Until Hermione's time-turner becomes a real thing, and you can actually manage to be in several places at once, you're left with a tough decision.  Instead of doing four projects in a month, as you would like to, you end up choosing only one.  Not the most exciting project, mind you, but the one which pays the most money.  And the rest of the month?

With work being so irregular, cashflow is often a problem.  When you get booked for a gig, you may think your bank account can heave a sigh of relief.  But it's not that simple.  Many companies will require you to book and pay for your own travel and accommodation, only to reimburse you later.  You have to pay a lot out of your own pocket before you see any money from your employer.  This is on top of the many other expenses which you regularly invest in to advance your career: lessons, coachings, masterclasses, young artist programmes, accompanist fees, headshots, website development, recording sessions, and the list goes on.  You tell yourself it will be worth it in the long run, and it usually is.  But it can take a long time before you see any tangible monetary results from your investment.  The fact is that most musicians have to go into a large amount of debt before they get paid.

A lot of musicians address this problem by applying for extra funding, whether it's a grant, a scholarship, a bursary, a loan, or a line of credit.  And what does that mean?  Surprise, surprise.  More paperwork.  

Send help.  Please.

Now if you're anything like me, you hate this non-musical aspect of the job.  The money, the logistics, and the piles upon piles of paperwork.  It’s the kind of stuff that makes me hate being a grownup.  But it’s a necessary evil.  Some days I can’t face it, and I let the paperwork and emails pile up.  Other days I get a burst of motivation and decide to tackle everything head-on.  I make up my mind: today is the day!  I’m going to be proactive and professional!  I’m going to sort everything out!  I send out a blitz of emails, and I fill out every application form I can get my hands on.

Oddly enough, not much seems to change after my monumental decision to Get Things Done.  As it turns out, just because I've decided to be super-productive and organised, it doesn't mean that everyone else has.  And so my emails sit unanswered in someone else’s inbox.  By the time I get a response, my burst of motivation has ended.  I let the work pile up, and the whole cycle begins again.

Sometimes, however, by some magical alignment of the stars, another person has decided to Get Things Done at the same time as I have.  They get back to me right away, and everything gets sorted out.  We both bask in a shared glow of smugness and relief, knowing that we've managed to accomplish yet another boring unsavoury task.  It’s pretty much the best feeling in the world.

When you think about all the petty administrative work and bureaucratic battles that musicians have to tackle, it's amazing that we ever get around to making music  And yet, somehow we do.

We do this non-musical work as a labour of love.  We love our music.  And we know that without the administrative work, the musical work would never happen.  So we soldier on, and we fill out more forms.  It may be tedious and stressful and unnecessarily complicated.  But it's essential work, and somebody has to do it.

And on that note, I have some more applications to fill out.  Happy January, everyone!