Rather than posting a personal profile this week, I’d like to direct you towards a post on Creative Infrastructure by Linda Essig, the director of ASU’s Arts Entrepreneurship Program.
(Side note – Arts Entrepreneurship? How awesome is that? While the 17-year-old-Me might’ve been all about performing, the [mumblemumble]-something Me is totally entranced by this program of study.)
She writes, in reference to a chance meeting with an arts worker in a metropolitan sushi bar:
The story of J is a good example of a person who uses his talents, skill and training in the arts to build a career, albeit not one he would have envisioned as an art student. Students enter study in the arts with many dreams and aspirations. […] If J had kept his head down, looking only toward the world of studios and gallery shows, he might not have seen the opportunities that have led to what became an enjoyable and sustainable career.
I can vouch for the undergraduate nearsightedness, and also for the value in keeping one’s eyes open to opportunities. If we think about our undergraduate (and, in some cases, advanced studies) as the scaffolding upon which we build a career, rather than the than the gun barrel through which we cast our aspirations, it free us up to look in any number of directions. Sometimes the straightest, most direct route is simply the easiest route, and not the best. Maybe we should co-opt Lysander’s words of wisdom for this little corner of the internet:
The course of true love ne’er did run smooth.
Amen…whether in love, or relationships or vocation or avocation…sometimes those crunchy places are trying to catch our attention. Listen. Look around, lean into those bumpy, rocky spaces.
It’s funny – I had the opportunity to sing last week for a retirement concert for a mentor. It was a tune I knew, with several colleagues whose company I enjoy, to celebrate a teacher who has made a large impact on my career.
And I politely declined.
I have two degrees in vocal performance. As a student, I loved the study and the collaboration, but what I really wanted was the applause, the fancy costumes, the name on the poster, the roses after the show. The singing was, sadly, secondary to all of the other noise surrounding the act of performing.
Now, I sing all the time. (Ask the manicurist who called me out yesterday for humming along with Shania Twain.) But I don’t sing “for real” anymore…and that’s a very good thing. Singing for other people made me feel insecure in a fundamental way, and in a pervasive manner that was unlike anything else…most likely because it wasn’t what I really wanted to do, but it was the only way in which I could figure out how to be close to the performers and the performances, both of which I enjoyed. And I enjoyed being the center of attention…but more for saying something witty or profound, rather than making a beautiful noise.
I’m happy speaking in front of a crowd, especially when the words are my own. I had the opportunity to address several thousand folks last summer, and several hundred for this retirement concert last week…and found both experiences totally enjoyable. But singing? It’s off the table…happily so, in my particular case.
There are articles upon articles that proclaim that the key to success is Doing What You Love. No dispute, there. But I personally had a difficult time distilling those things that I loved into a career.
Paul Graham wrote a great article called “How To Do What You Love.” And let me tell you, I wish that I had read (and internalized) this in high school. Among one of the personally salient points he makes? (Besides the truth that work should be mostly something that you enjoy?) Is that doing something for prestige (say, for the sound of cacophonous applause after your big aria, or for a sterling review) is in fact doing it for all the wrong reasons.
Prestige is the opinion of the rest of the world. When you can ask the opinions of people whose judgement you respect, what does it add to consider the opinions of people you don’t even know? [4]
This is easy advice to give. It’s hard to follow, especially when you’re young. [5] Prestige is like a powerful magnet that warps even your beliefs about what you enjoy. It causes you to work not on what you like, but what you’d like to like. (emphasis added by the editor)
That’s what leads people to try to write novels, for example. They like reading novels. They notice that people who write them win Nobel prizes. What could be more wonderful, they think, than to be a novelist? But liking the idea of being a novelist is not enough; you have to like the actual work of novel-writing if you’re going to be good at it; you have to like making up elaborate lies.
Prestige is just fossilized inspiration. If you do anything well enough, you’ll make it prestigious. Plenty of things we now consider prestigious were anything but at first. Jazz comes to mind—though almost any established art form would do. So just do what you like, and let prestige take care of itself.
Brilliant, right? And an infinitely more sustainable approach than trying to enjoy something that fundamentally doesn’t appeal to you.
I’ve been searching for and, happily, finding great resources for creatives looking for their next step. There are so many interesting articles and points of view! But at this point it feels a little like my head is a very vast space (I’m stuck on the image of a train station…Union Station in DC, or perhaps Philly’s 30th Street Station…something with lots of marble), filled with many people…there are fragments of ideas bouncing off of the walls, careening into other thoughts, dashing some into pieces and integrating others into a larger, more complex idea. It’s part rock concert, part flea market, part art exhibition, part carnival.
Here are some contributors to my mental cacophony:
I’ve been reading her blog for a while now, but I’ve just picked up Danielle LaPorte’s book, The Fire Starter Sessions.
And I’ve been spending time reading the Communicatrix, who has coincidentally just reviewed Chris Guillebeau‘s (you read him, right?) new book The $100 Startup.
These folks are smart and courageous. They write like they’re speaking to a friend. Some of it’s inspiration…some is tough love…and some are case studies, examples of how others have opted into or out of places and spaces.I have to say that there’s never been a better time to rethink yourself, your path. These are brave, eloquent people who have found unconventional success…and moreover, have defined that loaded word “success” in their own way. I like to think of having one of them on my shoulder, to provide perspective when my inner demons are telling me that I’m not good/smart/kind/industrious enough to amount to much.
But the first thing that I’m seeing in all of these folk’s philosophies? Is that they daydream. They practice cultivating those crazy, out-of-the-box thoughts…much like we practiced auditioning. Daily. Specifically. Focused. They allow themselves to daydream, without a censor telling them that they can’t, shouldn’t, will-never-be-able-to.
They’ve allowed themselves to think about those things that they want…without putting the onus of merit on their dreams. Let’s remove from the equation for just a moment whether you feel you deserve something, or all of the things, or nothing at all. And let’s just go with the thought that someone thinks that you deserve to dream.
(Heck, I think you deserve to dream! Add one person to your mental cheerleader list.)
Now, from that empty place? Dream.
What do you want? How do you want to feel? No judgements. Nothing is too vast or too shallow – it’s dreaming.
I want the metabolism of a 20-year-old; I also want the wisdom and smarts of someone older and wiser and smarter than I. I want respect. I want inner peace. I want to be able to hold my liquor. I want people to love being around me. I want to be on Oprah someday. I want to write a book. I want children. I want to give my friends and family stories and songs to remember me by. I want to stand up for myself more often. I want a big-girl purse. I want to be able to shave my knees and ankles without bloodying them. I want to write letters in longhand. I want to be more creative.
(There’s my top-of-my-head, all of the things I can type in two minutes, daydream list. I could go on. I bet you could too.)
My challenge to you is to take 5 minutes, create a google doc or grab a notebook or send yourself a voicemail. And daydream about the things you want. Do it every day for 7 days. Think of it as getting yourself into the practice room…for your next chapter.
Let’s check back in here next week and see what we come up with…shall we?
Kim Pensinger Witman is known nationally for being the driving force behind the Wolf Trap Opera Company, one of the premiere young artist training programs in the U.S. But prior to her operatic life she studied in two different, yet ultimately related, disciplines. Here’s her story.
My transitions weren’t clean, and they were of two types – the first early one, from music therapy to the life of a freelance collaborative pianist; and the second one, from pianist to administrator.
Where did you go to school?
Elizabethtown College, B.S. in Music Therapy
Catholic University of America, M.M. in Piano
What drew you to your chosen degree field?
I identified as a musician from an early age – was active in every single musical thing possible in my childhood, from school choirs and bands to being an organist at my church at age 13. But I had no illusions about my ability to be a professional musician. I didn’t believe I had the chops or the work ethic to sustain all of that private practice time. In looking for a career that might allow me to stay in touch with music and still let me be with other people, I found music therapy. My music therapy professors were wonderful role models, and they reinforced my decision to embrace what was then a particularly new and kind of fringey career path in music. My piano teacher in my undergrad was also a composer, and although he wasn’t an R.M.T., he was heavily involved with the music therapy track at Elizabethtown.
In the early years of our marriage, my husband and I decided we wanted to get M.M. degrees. Just because. We figured we’d have kids fairly soon, and after that, such a pursuit would be unlikely. I really just wanted to immerse myself in the keyboard in a way I hadn’t before – and at 25, I was finally ready to do it. But I didn’t believe it would lead to a career change – I fully expected to continue as a therapist after getting the degree.
During my M.M. degree, I fell into a graduate assistantship in the opera program. (I filled an unexpected vacancy. I only got the job because the program was desperate, and I had a bag of tricks that allowed me to be functional – awesome sight-reading, a love for languages, and the ability to work easily with a range of people.) The decision to move away from therapy into playing the piano for a living was born of curiosity after I finished my degree. I really didn’t know if I had the chops for it but thought I would spend a few years in pursuit and see what happened. So, the first step into my collaborative pianist career was made for me; had the graduate assistantship not opened up unexpectedly, I would not be doing what I’m doing today. Full stop. But the next step – that of independently filling in the gaps in my opera education in the 2 years after my M.M. degree – was a decision I made on my own.
Even though I learned a tremendous amount at Catholic University, it didn’t have a lot to do with my transition to the opera business. Because I was so ill-prepared for my surprise teaching assistantship, I scrambled to stay one step ahead of my students and wasn’t really able to benefit from high level instruction of my own. The biggest influence at CUA was probably my piano teacher Thomas Mastroianni and my chamber music supervisor Robert Newkirk. Dr. Mastroianni saw me through a scary wrist/hand dysfunction (thought to be RSI but ultimately wasn’t) and gave me the confidence to know that if I wanted to make my living at the keyboard, I probably could. And Bob Newkirk presided over my first legit piano trio experiences, cementing a future love of chamber music.
I know lots of people who would agree that any kind of psychology degree is a boon in the performing arts. 🙂 But how did you make that jump from the piano bench to administration?
When my current job opened up in 1997, I was a pianist on staff at Wolf Trap. I didn’t intend to move to an administrative career (was not looking), but over a period of months I fell into it. (I seem to do a lot of falling into things…) The move into administration was a decision I made somewhat reluctantly. When my job opened up, I made no move to pursue it, for I couldn’t imagine taking a desk job. But when it wasn’t immediately filled, I began to think that such a move would allow me to continue to participate in the opera world, open up new creative possibilities, and (probably most importantly) let me move away from the musician schedule into a 9-5 routine during much of the school year so that I could see my kids more. Spending as much time as possible with my family was non-negotiable.
So here I am – currently the Director of Wolf Trap Opera & Classical Programming for the Wolf Trap Foundation for the Performing Arts. Basically, I run an opera company inside a non-opera-specific organization.
How do you self-define?
Initially: I’m a music therapist.
Then: I’m an accompanist. (Well, a collaborative pianist, but such a thing didn’t really exist then.)
Now: I’m an arts administrator.
And simultaneously with all of the above; I’m a musician. (Which has less to do with how I pay my mortgage than how I see the world.)
Ok, speak to us a little bit about that worldview.
This can’t be understated. Everything I learned about people, about the intersection of art and life, had its roots in my study and brief practice of music therapy. I went into that specific field because the abstract study of music felt somehow isolated and irrelevant, and I was only interested in spending a life in music that felt as if it enabled connection with “real life.” (A naïve statement in its frankness, but it was how I felt at the time.) Even now, two career shifts later, my whole approach to the people in this business – the artists, the patrons, the audience – is shaped by those early years of never considering art as being outside of daily life.
And everything I learned and did as a collaborative pianist continues to play into my life as an administrator. It taught me empathy for performers, a respect for the dynamic and nonlinear processes in the rehearsal room, and an appreciation for the high levels of research and preparation it takes to do good work.
What advice would you give to someone struggling with this decision?
Lest any of this seem too tidy, I should mention that while I was a music therapist I was supplementing my income by playing in piano bars and gigging as accompanist for choral societies and theatre groups. While I was a collaborative pianist, I was a church organist/choir director, piano teacher, pit orchestra member, dinner theatre music director, college adjunct faculty and mom. Some of that stuff followed me into my arts admin days but gradually fell by the wayside as the demands of my job increased and my stamina gave out. So be aware that some of the clarity comes with the retelling…
Aside from the obvious (know yourself, be true to yourself, don’t do any of this to please other people), I guess I’d have to caution against black-and-white thinking. This is all so very and so wonderfully gray that it need not be as frightening as you think. I’ve always been terrible at the 5-year/10-year plan thing because it seems so much more legitimate to focus on today’s decisions, next week’s goals, or (at the outside) next season’s dreams. You may be the kind of person who needs to project beyond that in order to move forward. But I believe that it hamstrings us unnecessarily to frame our decisions as part of a linear path in such an extended time horizon.
Life happens.
Plans change.
And this is not always bad.
Be flexible, keep your gaze forward but your feet underneath you, and you’ll know what feels right. And generally, those unexpected things are way better than anything you planned.
And now that I think of it, probably the most important thing is to ignore the voices in your head (or the people outside of it…) who tell you that if you have X years or X thousands of dollars investment in training for a specific career, you have a moral obligation to see it through. If you know it’s not the right path at any point, that’s the time to set a new course. And although the next year or two of transition may be difficult, it’s nothing compared to the desperation you’ll feel if you keep blindly putting one foot in front of the other and end up in a life you hate.
Furthermore, none of what you learned is lost. Seriously. No matter how specific those skills, the only way they’ll go untapped is if you don’t value them.
Tonya McKinny started her professional life armed with degrees in acting and women’s studies. She now finds herself in the role of a lifetime as an on-the-road mom (as opposed to a stay-at-home-mom) and wife to a professional opera singer. Here’s a little bit about her background, and the different hats she wears in a day.
How did you get started?
I earned my undergraduate degree at Portland State University, a double major in Women’s Studies and Theatre Arts (BS) and then attended University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee (MFA). I also spent a summer at ACT in San Francisco, 6 months at the National School for Drama and Dance in New Zealand and a short study at the National Theatre Academy of China in Beijing and I did 6 months at the University of Louisville and volunteered at the Actors Theatre of Louisville. The funny thing is that I didn’t actually want to go to college, and my senior year of HS I got very very sick and didn’t apply anywhere. My sister, an over-achiever, was applying to several out of state law schools and we agreed that I would go to which ever town she went to and go to school there. She choose Lewis and Clark in Oregon and I went to PSU. While there, I got some good advice; “choose a city you want to live in or go to grad school”. I went to grad school. (I’m Cherokee Indian and school was free for me, so why quit and get a job?) I went to UWM because I had met the head of the department while volunteering once and thought I could learn something from him. And I did. I was a very good actress.
When did you decide to change career paths?
When I met Ryan.
Really?
Yep. So I’m a trained actor, living and working in NYC. I had just auditioned for a tour, was working on a show and in a Columbia student film (that director won the Sundance award last year and now she’s famous!). I was busy! And then I met Ryan. Two weeks later I got the call from the tour and they offered me the job and a 6 month contract… and I remember talking to Ryan about it and decided that I’d rather see how it worked out with him instead of leaving town for 6 months. So basically I decided then that my career wasn’t as important as I had thought it was. I don’t regret staying in NYC with him and then giving up theatre. I miss the theatre. All the time, but I love my family more. (There’s enough drama here. I’m sure you understand.) We also decided before we became engaged that I would travel with him, and we knew that meant no acting for me. When we moved to Houston, I found out I was pregnant and that was the end of all auditioning for me.
Whoa! It’s a love story!
It is!
So, What have been the big surprises in the ensuing years?
I didn’t miss the career as much as I thought I would. And I’m really surprised at how everyone else reacted. I’m so tired of people thinking that “I need something for me.” (That really just feels like something else I’m supposed to do so that I don’t disappoint everyone else.) As far as positives, I’m not lonely and poor living in NYC as I always thought I’d be. But on the negative side, no one claps for me, and my job is never over and finding time for myself is a huge struggle, though Louis will sometimes give me a “Brava” after we sing “twinkle twinkle little star”. Bless him. The hard times are just as bad as I expected, but the good times are better than I ever dreamed and it evens out and usually the good wins by a landslide. I’m proud of us for doing what other people tell us is stupid and won’t work. We are just making it up as we go along and so what? Just because no one else has thought of it before doesn’t mean it’s impossible.
I love my life just the way it is – seeing the world with the love of my life and my family.
****
Wow. Sounds like it’s all first class and bon bons
Ha. While there are pretty dresses sometimes, being the “Stage Manager” of our lives, with two small kids and a husband with an international freelance opera career is a pretty complicated job. I wear more hats in a day than I can count.
Really? Take me through a typical day.
Ok. Here’s a normal, non-performance day – this is the routine regardless of what country we’re in: US, Germany, Switzerland, whatever.
Our day starts at 6:30am.
Obviously, there are differences for travel days and for Ryan’s performance days…but this is the normal routine. And because we move every 4-6 weeks, we tend to plan get-togethers with friends as often as we can, wherever we happen to be – I guess you can add Party Planner to the list! Maybe especially because we are on the go so much, I want to share these amazing experiences with my kids and friends in a way that underlines how special they are. Some people would say that we’re nomads, but I disagree. Everywhere’s our neighborhood. Oh, and a tip – until you bake something, you’re not home. So you can definitely add baker to the list.
And I also have to say Collaborator is the one title that’s not on the list, but is a big part of my day: Ryan, even when he’s singing, only spends a few hours away from this same list…we’re a team, in every sense of the word.
So, what traits/skills have you carried forward from your academic and professional lives?
Oh a love for the arts has been a big help, and of course a love for and knowledge of the stories that relate to opera helps me to talk out the shows with Ryan. It also helps that I’m not afraid and am actually comfortable with just about anyone, so all the dinners and events and new towns aren’t a big challenge for me they’re just part of the day.
What advice would you give to someone struggling with a similar decision?
Do what you can sleep with at night. I had to try it – I went to NYC and I was a working and sometimes paid actor with an independent movie and some print modeling work, with an agent, and everything I thought I wanted and needed from life. It was very exciting – I loved it and I won’t trade those memories. But I also loved working in the corporate and non profit worlds.
I also love being a mom. Being Mom is the only thing I couldn’t give up. This family is mine forever. The shows were fun and at the time important, working was fulfilling, but this is who I am now. We all change. Change is good. Just make sure it’s the change you can live with.
JENNIFER EMPIE
Jennifer began her studies as a Flute Performance/Music Industry major. She currently works for the U.S. State Department, and is posted in Rio de Janeiro. Here’s her story.
First Steps
I went to a very small high school where the fact that I pursued music at all made me pretty much the most musical person in school. My teachers all convinced me that I had to major in music in college and that I should become a music teacher. No one ever introduced me to other options so, without any real guidance, I decided on music education.
When I entered college I soon realized that there were many more careers in music than teaching and I still wasn’t sure I was really cut out to be a music teacher. Syracuse University had a good music industry program and I decided that major would give me the most options so I changed to it. The only problem was that the program focused mostly on popular music management so even though I really enjoyed the coursework, it still didn’t quite fit.
I interned at the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra during my semester abroad in London. This was the first time that I learned about the existence of education programs in arts organizations. I really enjoyed working with these types of programs and decided to pursue education again and would look into graduate schools when I got home.
I thought I wanted a masters degree in music education (as I still hadn’t learned about arts administration programs). I’m really thankful for my friend Andy, who was a graduate student at Syracuse, for knowing what I needed and setting me up for it before I knew myself. He encouraged me to go to Florida State University because he went there and they had a great music education program. He also arranged for me to get an assistantship in the Arts Administration program office where I would get to do things like manage the summer music camps and get to know the Arts Adminstration staff and students. As he expected, I realized that was where I belonged and switched my major to Arts Administration. That decision really set me on the path that, though winding, led me to my career with the State Department.
Life after Grad School
After graduate school, I moved to Washington, DC for an internship with the National Symphony Orchestra at the Kennedy Center. This was a great introduction to the practical world of arts management. The Kennedy Center is an interesting organization because it is so large and in some ways has an incredible amount of resources while individual departments still have very small staffs and you have to be creative to get things done. I liked this grass roots aspect under the umbrella of a large organization.
After that, I decided to stay in Washington, DC and began looking for a job. This did not turn out to be as easy as I thought! After a lot of searching, I accepted a position in the Artistic department at Washington Opera. Although I would never admit it at the time, I had never seen an opera before and had no idea what an Artistic department does! I quickly learned about auditions, casting, and contracts and soon fell in love with opera. A year later I was managing the Domingo-Cafritz Young Artist Program where I was responsible for the daily training and rehearsal schedules, production, budgeting, and planning. Even though I was not a singer, I learned everything I could from my opera colleagues and relied on advice from those more expert than me every day. This taught me that you do not have to stay in your comfort zone. What you know can apply to a lot of different things.
Although I would not trade my six years at the Opera for anything, I never felt that the arts were the only thing for me, the way many of my colleagues did. I knew I needed to do other things in my life and there were aspects of arts management that were starting to negatively affect my life. I was working for very low pay, which added stress to my life, and I was working very long hours, rarely getting even a day off on the weekend. This takes a toll after a while. I wasn’t sure my music background really qualified me for much else so I went back to school part-time to get my MBA.
Studying business at the University of Maryland was a great opportunity to meet people who had a wide variety of careers. I learned about things like finance and business strategy and found a world of new opportunities. In the end, I landed a position in supply chain at Black and Decker. I was thrilled to work for a large corporation that I expected would offer many more opportunities to learn, try new things, and travel. Unfortunately, my timing was a bit off. I entered my job in 2007, just as the economy was taking a downturn, and suddenly I was faced with the same pay cuts, layoffs, and lack of mobility that I faced in the arts. At the same time, I realized that the culture of the organization is just as important as the work and I did not fit into this culture.
So, where did you fit in?
I had always had in my mind that I would like to join the Foreign Service with the Department of State. I loved the idea of travel, learning languages, living abroad, and working in international affairs. So in 2009 I took a shot and was fortunately hired! Since then things have fallen into place so well that I know this was exactly the right decision for me.
I now work as a diplomat with the U.S. Department of State. I am currently posted to Rio de Janeiro where I work in the consular section, processing visas and working to help American citizens abroad. In my first year, I have had amazing opportunities including being interviewed for national TV news (in Portuguese!) and organizing the motorcade for President Obama’s visit. My future jobs could focus on a variety of areas including operations, reporting to Washington about issues in that country, or public affairs. Next year I will move to Seoul, Korea.
The thing I love most about my job is the people. I am surrounded by interesting people from all different backgrounds who are all very happy to be here. This does an enormous amount for morale. Because we all came from different backgrounds, there is no assumption that one person is more qualified to be here than someone else. So we are all given a lot of responsibility and trusted to make good decisions. The work is never boring – embassies and consulates are involved in so many areas that something new and exciting is always coming up. Finally, I am confident that that I have a career path ahead of me. This is the first time I have ever been in a place where I know I will not have to send out resumes every year to find the next opportunity.
Definitions are overrated
The unforeseen positive was that giving up performing allowed me to redefine myself. I had always defined myself as a musician and I clung to that for a long time but now I could allow myself to be defined as more than only that.
When I was at the opera, I always felt the need to define myself as a former musician in order to justify why I would be qualified to work in Artistic or the Young Artist Program. When I moved to the business world, people tended to see music as irrelevant to my work so I started to say that I came from the non-profit world, rather than the arts. The Foreign Service is, by nature, made up of people who come from all different backgrounds. Diversity is embraced so I have no qualms about saying I came from the arts and studied music. At this point, I have not performed in a very long time so I do not define myself as a musician anymore.
Personally, I see it more as a path that a destination.
I don’t want to define myself as a musician, or arts administrator, or business person. I like the idea of doing lots of different things and being less defined by my job, although it is very fun to write “diplomat” on my tax return.
Toolkit: what skills carried through to your current position?
Music training is great for all professions. It taught me discipline, creativity, and commitment. Arts Administration taught me resourcefulness and flexibility. You are always being asked to do things you have never done before and you just have to figure it out. The standards that I was held to (or held myself to) at the Opera were far greater than anything that was expected of me or my colleagues in my for-profit position. Working in the corporate world, I was really surprised at how much stronger my work ethic was that that of many of my colleagues. Working in the arts, we are used to putting in as many hours as it takes and sticking to deadlines- once you announce the date of the performance, that is the date. The Department of State actually has a lot in common with the arts. Although the Department itself is huge, I work for a small consulate with limited staff and budget and we are always trying to creatively accomplish more than we realistically have the resources to do. Every day I draw on the foundation I built during my time in the arts.
Any parting shots?
Even if you are convinced that you will always have a career in the arts, learn about more than just music. You don’t know where life will take you. When I explain my varied career path, most people think it makes no sense but to me, I know I needed to take each one of those steps to become who I am now and get to where I am. I do regret closing my mind to things non-music when I was younger. I should have learned more about other disciplines and maybe studied a language. By the time I realized how important that was, I had a lot of catching up to do.
You can only consider the options you know exist. Talk to lots of other people – performers, former performers, non-musicians – and find out what they do and why they like it. Most importantly, no decision has to be final. You can always change directions later. But don’t turn down opportunities to learn something new because you think it is not relevant now, it may be later and in the end, everything relates to everything.
I’m a sucker for to-do lists, and maps to get from point A to point C in the most efficient manner.(Looking back on my own path, it’s part of the reason why classical music appealed so much to me: there was a seemingly tangible, organized trajectory to get from music student to professional opera singer. When that started to not quite be the case, well, part of the attraction fizzled.) But, as I’m learning (yes folks! SHE CAN BE TAUGHT!), a pre-prescribed path doesn’t work for very many of us. It’s easy to be reactionary, to make a choice – or a whole series of choices – based on external factors: what I should do, what pays the most, what my family will have the most respect for…the list goes on.
But it’s difficult to talk about discernment.
We struggle to talk about feeling unfulfilled (especially when family and friends are supportive of our talents), we worry that talking to people about wanting to change careers could hamstring us if we ultimately decide that performing is our thing. We struggle to find the time and space to soul-search, to ask questions and really listen to the answers. And we look at our resumes and wonder if we’d ever be able to make a transition, even if we wanted to, with the plethora of stage credits and comparable lack of office/teaching/business experience.
It’s an extremely personal process.
And, like most large projects, it’s better divvied up into small chunks. (One of the beautiful things that tends to hamper we creative folks is that we rush right to the end result in our heads, and decide whether or not it’s going to work before we’ve even begun the journey. Or maybe that’s just me?)
This article very quickly combined my love of lists with a succinct small step/big question discernment exercise. Three steps, maybe thirty minutes of your time.
Even if you end up with more questions than you started with, you’ve at least started the process, right?
Indirect Routes 
