Hope, why you got to spring eternal.

Guys, once again, I almost decided to call it quits for good last week. I had a really good audition that I felt super prepared for, and got a call back and all that good stuff. Afterwards I tried to tell myself to let go of the result, that I could feel good that I did the best I could even though I knew that I wasn’t the type they were looking for, etc., etc. But over the next few days, Silent Phone was still somehow draining and momentum- blocking.  I honestly wasn’t expecting it to ring, but rationality never enters into this sort of thing.  Ruling out the impossible is generally something I do terribly well, but in this department it’s...well, impossible. A small part of me is still hoping for them to call and offer me the part of Eliza Doolittle even though the show closed a few years ago.

 Anyway, after over a straight year of this daily struggle, last week I felt that perhaps my head couldn’t take one more hit against the brick wall. When is it giving up and when is it letting go?  Maybe this is God’s way of telling me to go thru that window they say He opens up when the door closes, wherever and whatever that window could lead me to. Hopefully I can fit through it.

But this week there is another audition, and why I’ve decided to go and am sort of excited about it is a mystery to me.

The "P" Word

I have a sweet little voice studio in my home, and I never thought I’d like teaching but I have some really great kids and adults that I really like to work with, so here I am.  Over the past couple of weeks, two of my students have had amazing breakthroughs, seemingly out of nowhere. I certainly wasn’t expecting it, and definitely not from either of them. Each of their individual breakthroughs took me by surprise, because they are not my “best” singers. However, these two students are among my best prepared, the ones who work outside of our weekly lessons the most.  The progress they have made has really impressed me and also gives me a first row seat to what happens when people actually PRACTICE and put the time and work in.

Oh, how I hate to practice. And I mean LOATHE with all of my being. It is lonely, sad, and oftentimes boring way to pass the time, and absolutely essential to any kind of progress. (Insert expletive) I also don’t like to practice because it sometimes takes months for me to see any progress, and what I sound like compared to where I want to be is so far away that it seems impossible and pointless to stay the course.  I am sure I am not the only one on the planet who deals with this aversion, in fact I think in some way or other all of us do.  But sooner or later we also all realize that it is the only way to improve. It is the ONLY way to improve. Even if it sounds like (insert expletive). As Julia Cameron states “ It is impossible to look (or sound!) good  and get better at the same time.” 

Singing has its own unique challenges; one of the main ones being what you sound like in your head is not the same thing that everyone else hears. In order to get better, you have to develop other feedback systems that help you gauge whether or not you are on the right track. I often feel like a deaf person when I sing, making sounds that I cannot and will not ever hear the way others will hear them and having to trust the techniques I’ve learned and developed over the years to produce the sound I want. (still working on this) Recording helps, but it takes a lot of inner strength to be able to listen to a recording of yourself without surviving the following I’m-giving-it all-up-what-was-I-thinking! drama, often lasting for weeks.

But even with the deaf issue and the rest of the long list of challenges singing presents, consistent practice does make singing easier and eventually sound better.

Regarding practice, last week I had a moment of strong resolve, which was quickly challenged. The following conversation took place in my head:

Hopeful Me: “This is it, Liz- you are going to practice every day for an hour, first thing in the morning. We are going to become that consistent singer we’ve been trying to be for so long. This is the year!"

 Cynical Me: “Yeah, yeah, we’ve heard it before. You last about a week and then you don’t sing for weeks.”  

Hopeful Me “ I know!!! What can I do to really make it stick this time?!?  I’ve been going through this pattern for years, and I need to break free! Its time to get serious! I mean it!! Lets set an attainable goal: one hour a day, four days this week- that sounds doable."

Cynical Me: “But how will you fit it in? There are too many other things to do, you are already overwhelmed as it is, and you want to add this? The time has passed for you to be a singer, and what if you are kidding yourself that you will ever be any good? Maybe its time to quit, Hopeful Me. Its too painful.”

H.M.: “Well, yeah, maybe you are right. But….perhaps the point isn’t to be a really good singer. What if it’s just to have something I can work on that no one can take away from me. Let’s experiment and see what happens if I put in the work on a really consistent basis. ”

C.M. “You’ll be sad and lonely.”

H.M. “I’m sad and lonely now, so what’s the difference?”

C.M. “Well, you don’t stick to things”

H.M. “Um, how long have I taken lessons? 20 years? I do too stick to things, meanie.”

C.M. “Well, that should tell you something. If you haven’t become a better singer by now, you never will”

And so on and so forth. H.M. finally set up the goal that I was going to practice for one hour a day, four days in the week. And, amazingly enough, I did it. (take that, meanie.) I did my best to not judge how it sounded, I just sang, just PRACTICED, it was a modern day miracle. And sure enough, yesterday I had a mini breakthrough of my own. One of the songs I practiced every day this week was a coloratura aria I had an accompaniment track to, so I ended up really working out my high voice, which is where most of the frustrations lie (soprano friends, ammiright?)

The breakthrough happened yesterday in church.  I was sitting there singing a hymn that always has me straining to reach the higher notes, but to my surprise, the notes just came out without me really doing anything. It was easy, and singing is never easy for me, ever. Never ever, ever, ever, ever ever.  Even when it’s a hymn in church or when I'm home alone and nothing is at stake. 

Moral of the blog post: Practice makes better and easier,  and better is better than sucky and hard. Even if its not perfect. I am at the point that I will take it. And at the very least, it creates less work in the long run.

So, Hopeful Me is going to keep it going this week, she already got me to practice today. I always thought she was the Me who was lying, but I am beginning to suspect it’s that other guy. 

With that, I would love to hear your practice success stories. How have you found ways to practice that are sustainable over a long period of time?  When in your life have you seen practice pay off in unexpected or expected and happy ways?  I would love to hear them, if you feel like sharing with the class. 

Goodbye, Don

This past week I lost my dear friend, Don Armstrong. Our relationship goes back a long way, and is pretty complex and unique its origin, dating back to before I was born—see if you can keep up. My grandfather Joe became friends with Don’s wife, Rachel in Salt Lake City in the 1940’s. Rachel and my grandpa both took from the same voice teacher, sang a lot together, and, along with their spouses, remained friends throughout their lives.  After my grandpa Joe’s death, my dad (Joe’s son) looked up Rachel because he wanted my sister to go and study voice with her. He remembered Rachel and her voice from his childhood, hearing her sing with my grandfather. And being a singer himself, my dad was always hyper aware of “great” voices in the world, and he counted Rachel among the best of the best, (which she was).  My dad found that Rachel and Don, after living 30 years just outside Princeton New Jersey, had retired to a small town in Kansas where Rachel grew up, Sedan.  So two of my sisters drove to Sedan, stayed in Don and Rachel’s guest home two doors down from them, and one took lessons from Rachel while the other accompanied. My sister’s voice was transformed during that month of study, and when I graduated from high school and was free to go myself, I followed in her footsteps ( something I did and still do often :) ).  

Long story short, (too late!) I spent most of the subsequent 3 years between Kansas and Salt Lake, living there and studying, coming home, going back, etc. until I came home for the last time and got married.  During my time there, I became somewhat of an adopted granddaughter of sorts to Don and Rachel. (they never had children of their own, but had adopted many like me over the years).  Along with having two lessons every day, I would eat all my meals with them, spend quiet evenings with them watching the News Hour with Jim Lehrer and some kind of movie after dinner, go on outings- basically living much of their life with them while I began to form mine. Their open arms and generosity, along with all I was learning vocally, was what kept me going back time and time again, despite the sacrifices it took to live away from all my friends and family in a very small and (for a 20 year-old city girl) uneventful town.  But Don and Rachel made it worth it. Shortly after I left for the last time, Rachel slowly declined into dementia, and Don took loving care of her until he had to put her in a home in a neighboring city, where he would visit every chance he could. She passed away 10 years ago this spring, with Don living all of these years since then without her. We went back and celebrated his 90^th birthday with him in 2012, and saw him for the last time this past January when my mom and two of my sisters and I went back to visit him after his cancer diagnosis.  

Despite the struggles and sacrifice it took to move there and study, my time in Kansas with Don and Rachel rank among the most important years of my life.  And throughout the years since then, with Rachel’s mind declining and eventually taken to the other side, Don has been the thread that has kept me attached to that most dear time of life.  The shared memories Don and I had of those happy days I spent there has kept them alive for me over the years, and the day has come that I have been dreading for a long time, where those shared memories are gone. I will miss Don more than I can say.  

So far, I have devoted most of my posts to the acting side of things more than the singing part of it all, but for me they are equal in importance. Singing was my initial pursuit, and my time with Don and Rachel was when it was the most serious and sure. And along with Rachel, Don encouraged and supported me every step of the way, for which I will always be thankful. Since that time,  I have continued to study voice and sing throughout the years, with some frustrated breaks here and there, but I still hold onto that encouragement and support they gave me. Though I am still not where I want to be, being a very slow learner and all, I hold out hope that I can become the kind of singer Rachel and Don encouraged me to be (this hope kept alive by my current godsend of a teacher, Dave). 

 But with all the noise going on in that living room on School Street, the memories I have of Don have a little bit to do with singing, and a lot to do with friendship. Stimulating conversation, learning from each other across a large generation gap, laughing (his sense of humor was crazy, weird, at times shockingly inappropriate, but hilarious) and just spending day after idyllic day together... (time in Sedan seemed blissfully non-existent) these are the things I will cherish and miss most about my friend.

Shortly before returning back to Kansas for the last time during a trip home for Christmas, I had a moment of weakness, being seduced by my family and friends and all that was going on in Salt Lake City.  I called Rachel and my boss at the local grocery store in Sedan, and told them to not expect me back; I was needed in Salt Lake. A few hours after those phone calls, a huge pit in my stomach told me it was the wrong decision, and I knew I had to go back.

 When I called Rachel back the next day to tell her I had changed my mind, Don answered the phone.  I said “Hi, Don, its Elizabeth” to which he replied, “Elizabeth, what is this I hear about you not coming back? Our hearts are broken!”   I gladly told him I had changed my mind and hightailed it back for the final four months that I spent there, which also ended up being the most productive.  I have Don to thank as much as Rachel for all that I learned there, for their nurturing and loving support that I still fall back on, both vocally and otherwise, even though they are now both gone. I wish I had a more eloquent way to express what a blessing he was in my life, and in the lives of countless others, in a very profound way.  I wasn’t worthy of that blessing, but I still benefitted from it just the same.  Thank you Don, for everything.  And now, I am the one whose heart is broken…. 

            Don and I, in front of the historic Three Barns he restored just outside of Sedan, Kansas. 

Vulnerable Ramblings

I was just reading to my husband from a book titled "The God Who Weeps" by Fiona and Terryl Givens. This is our second time reading it- we loved it so much and were bummed out when it came to an end the first time around, so we had to start again (plus, it is some pretty deep stuff). In the book, the Givens (an extremely classy LDS couple- I think they are British?)  portray the image of God as a kind, loving, empathetic being whose situation as God of the universe puts him in a position of extreme vulnerability. I can't come close to describing the idea as eloquently as the authors do, you will have to read the book yourself. I highly recommend it to anyone who is interested to explore the characteristics of a loving God, LDS or otherwise.  

The main point that I take from their profound idea of a vulnerable God is the great amount of risk He places Himself in for getting hurt. Because He granted us free will, He has to watch us get ourselves into all kinds of disastrous messes that for a parent has got to be incredibly painful. But for me, the idea of a vulnerable God makes Him much more accessible and worship-able, rather than a white-bearded, fire and brimstone judge whose commandments I had a better keep or else. This God I can deal with- one who is willing to open Himself up to pain and suffering because He loves me.  I never thought of it from this particular angle. 

I bring up this topic of vulnerability because I have been thinking about all of the ways we make ourselves vulnerable as artists. And to me, God is the ultimate artist and creator, and as such probably knows a thing or two about putting oneself out there.  If someone as powerful and all-seeing as God employs this characteristic, I wonder what it could do for me in my itty-bitty life as an artist.  My favorite actors and artists are the ones who open themselves up the most when they work. (Shirley MacLaine, kids.)  And it is probably one of the hardest things of all to do, shedding all of the protective stuff we put on to get through this life as unscathed as we can. 

 The thing that surprised me most when I went back to the U of U to study acting (besides the astounding increase in the usage of the F word since I was last in school)  was the emphasis my professors placed on becoming vulnerable as an actor. I was hoping to be taught techniques to help me feel LESS vulnerable, more sure of myself onstage. Not so. The walls we put up in our everyday lives to protect ourselves from hurt hinder us as artists.  I think I can count on one hand the times in class or on stage during school I was able to let my guard down enough to expose what was really inside. It hard. But those were of course the best moments of them all. And the ones where I learned the most.  And oftentimes, the ones where I used the most F words. 

How to become more vulnerable…. do I even want that?  When I look back on the the few times I achieved it in school, I remember it being amazing and scary at the same time. But also, surprisingly safe and healing.I think I will ask the man upstairs for some pointers. Don't worry, I will watch my language. 

   

Nerves of Still

In my native Salt Lake City ( and most of the state, for that matter) it is fairly common for those with a strong regional dialect to pronoun words like 'deal', 'meal', or 'steel' with an 'ih' sound. As in “Wow, they were having a great dill going on down at Smith’s, ” or “that was such a delicious mill, I’m stuffed”.  There are varying degrees of this accent, and sometimes it is strong enough to where I can’t understand what the person is saying if it is thick enough. (It’s almost always a woman with short, spiky, highlighted hair.)  Perhaps it’s because I am an actor or have always been interested in speech, but when we were younger, my friends and I would jokingly adopt this accent, among other Utah-isms (my sister says oreeenge instead of orange, its kind of the best).  Using the accent is a habit I still carry with me today.

 A few days ago I wrote about gaining a thick skin, where I am slowly winning the battle of dealing with rejection and losing my hypersensitivity to it.  My next quest is to find a way to not let my out of control and opposite-of-still nerves take over and consume me.

I do not know the source of nervousness (aka stage fright). I don’t know if it helps to know, but I think it would help to know what to do about it.  I know many performers will say to use the fear, change the nerves to excitement, etc.  But I don’t know if they have the kind of nerves that I do. I have never barfed because of them, but I have come close a few times. I remember hyperventilating before it was my turn to sing in a class in college, which I thought was normal until my friend got kind of freaked out, seeing me writhing around gasping for air. Isn’t that how everyone behaves before they sing? Turns out, no.

Of my own free will, it will be my turn to sing 16 bars of a show tune in a few hours. I have been nervous the past week to the point of a low-level flu, which is good in some ways because I can’t eat as much.  I also used the nerves this week to practice harder, which I guess is also a good thing. But I would rather sing for the joy and fun of it rather than fearing for my life. It’s irrational, and it's painful.  But, maybe that is not real life, and maybe the fear will never go away, and maybe I just have to learn to dill with it. 

Pachyderm

I have an audition coming up that is causing me a particularly large amount of dread, more so than usual,  on account of it being for a Musical. Nowhere in the history of the performance world is there a more epic and traumatic circumstance than the Musical Theater Audition. Each aspect of the audition is daunting in its own individual way, and combine them all…needless to say I set time aside the next day for a nice long nap. Sing pretty for us, then learn this complicated dance combo, and once you're good and sweaty, let's follow it up with a cold read.

Maybe I won't go.

It has been a few months since my last musical audition. So I am little rusty. But thanks to this wonderful dry spell I have been basking in, I have actually noticed that for the first time in my life I am starting to develop a beautiful, luscious, THICK skin. It really is lovely.  And its not a checking-out kind of numbness to protect myself from pain, I honestly think I am finally getting to the point where it doesn't affect me as deeply or for as long when I don't get a job. So I have this new thing going for me.

But somehow today, the double poison of comparison and competition over this audition has somehow started to seep in, soaking through my new thick skin and settling in the pit of my stomach. I wish I could express the extent to which these things cannot enter into my system, or else they instantly take up residence, eating away at any trust and faith I have in my talents and abilities until I feel as small as a flaxseed ( I just ate some earlier, and they are really tiny. I guess chia seeds are littler. But you get the idea.)

In my 'umble opinion, there is no place for competition or comparison in the creation of art. Except for a couple of attempts in high school,  I never entered singing or acting competitions. While they may be a wonderful and productive outlet for some, these kinds of things completely shut me down. Deep down to my core, I believe that art has to be created for its own sake, and when full attention and focus is placed on creating and improving the work, opportunities to share or implement the work naturally follow. I have found that when I consciously seek and try to control where I use my chosen art forms, it  generally leads to a dead end. So I got a bit discouraged today when I found myself getting caught up in thinking about 'getting the part' and worrying about how I will stack up in the audition room. WHICH IS NOT HELPFUL. It wastes time, energy, and put the focus on something that really does not exist, underneath it all.

So, my resolve for the rest of the week until the audition this Saturday is to prepare my 16 bars to the best of my ability, and use the event as an opportunity for my own personal growth as a singer. And most important:  to NOT compare myself to anyone else.  How can I accomplish this? I worry that I won't be able to resist the temptation.

Julia Cameron, in her book The Artist's Way,  has a saying that I think I will use as my mantra the rest of the week.

"There is no competition on the spiritual plane"

In which plane I will attempt to hoist myself up onto, and get myself out of this muck. I don't want it to ruin my beautiful new skin.  

Brrrrr…..

Lately I have taken to keeping an audition journal, or, more specifically, a film audition journal.  I didn't do any film auditions or film acting until a couple of years ago, and I still feel like a fish out of water when I get in front of a camera. On the rare occasions I do book a job, I actually really like film work, and find it to be a welcome relief from theater, probably because of the comparatively short amount of time it takes to complete a project. Though I have worked on theater projects for over 15 years now, I am always shocked at the time commitment needed to be involved in a play or musical.  So film work has made for a welcome change… shorter time commitment, better money,  if slightly less fulfilling. But like I said, I still feel really new at this, so I started to keep a journal to write what I learn after each film audition, in the efforts to get better and learn from each of the failed attempts.

I have a few different reactions to the nerves that accompany auditions, and lately I have been favoring The Freeze. This response is akin to the nightmare where the serial killer is chasing you and you turn to run but your legs won't move. My trigger is the moment the camera is turned on, where I freeze like a statue and any preparation, technique, or personality I came into the room with is held hostage by my nerves. This happened to me at an audition yesterday, and it always sends me into the worst kind of self-loathing accompanied by a renewed commitment to find a different career.  However, once I get over the acute misery that accompany these auditions,  I come to realize that they are the best in some ways, because I learn how to fail, learn what not to do, and learn how to be prepared for any scenario. So much learning and growth… so painful to acquire!

Here is what I learned yesterday (this will replace my journal entry for today, and maybe all days):

1. Even if its only 1 or 2 lines, I need to prepare for the reading like it's a full scene. For me that means to develop a world for my character, imagine myself in the conditions the text gives me ( or make it up if it doesn't) and figure out my objectives and actions. I wasn't specific enough yesterday and I think that was a big part of my problem.

2. CHEAT OUT, LIZ. I am constantly hiding and turning away from the camera. Which is generally not the best idea when you are being taped. And when you are reading with another person, which was the case yesterday, talk to them without looking at them the entire time.

3. Leave the feminist and ageist at the door. Almost all auditions around here are for a table full of younger white men who look like they just graduated from film school, or hopped out of high school ready to make movies. And it gets me tired and cynical, because what the hell do they know about acting? But I need to remember that they are people too. People who could possibly give me a job. So I should be nice.

4. Leave the self-consciousness at the door, too. I don't know if this one is possible for me, but I will try harder next time.  Preparation helps with this one.  

5. Be prepared to read with the kind of actors who have no idea how to give and take. Who, when they get nervous, completely ignore you and are going to do their own thing no matter what you give them. Just do the best you can to stay in the moment, I guess.

6. Finally, remember you will most likely read with and/or be surrounded by gorgeous model-types with breast implants and platforms. Prepare to feel invisible. Or else get some of your own.