Here’s a riddle for you:
Q: What do you call a musician at the height of their career (whatever that means…) who decides to stop performing?
A: I don’t know. Nobody does that.
A few weeks ago I stood on the stage of an international performing arts festival, feeling that high of just having nailed the timing of the final cello/piano gliss at the end of Piazzolla’s Le Grand Tango, and took a bow for the last time in my career.
40 years after my first one.
I’m not so old that it was time to stop playing, so it wasn’t a matter of “bowing out graciously”
And I’m not finished working–I have plenty of exciting projects going, so I wasn’t “retiring”
And I’m not angry or disenchanted with music or cello, or anything like that, so I didn’t “quit”. That word is so full of defeat and anger. Neither was involved.
The truth is, our industry doesn’t really have a word for it, because it’s not something that people do. Once you’ve become a professional musician, you remain a professional musician until you die or are forced to retire under unpleasant circumstances.
We’re not supposed to admit that it’s possible we could simply choose to spend our time doing something else now.
For me, the decision has been brewing for quite some time. Back in 2018 I spoke to a few trusted friends and colleagues about my thoughts, and I was told over and over that I “couldn’t quit” it was like I had said the most absurd thing in the universe to them. They simply couldn’t fathom that I would even entertain the idea of not being a cellist. After all, it had been my entire identity since I was 5 years old.
They all suggested that I double down. Play better concerts in better venues and get paid higher fees, THEN I’ll be happy.
When the Pandemic canceled a 2-week West-Coast recital tour in early April 2020, the disappointment lasted about a minute and a half and was quickly replaced with an overwhelming feeling of relief.
I realized in that instant how burnt out I was, and I decided to call this pandemic-induced “year-of-no-concerts” a sabbatical. For 6 months, I wouldn’t even think about practicing or performing.
By the end of March, however, I had created the Virtual Summer Cello Festival, and by August, the Bridge Online Cello Studio was born, and somewhere in there, I started taking on coaching clients. October 2020 saw the very first cohort of Profit Pivot. There have now been 4.
The sense of fulfillment, pride, and satisfaction that I got from creating something brand new out of thin air and seeing the impact it had on these students was so far beyond how I had ever felt after my best, most successful performances.
Watching a client have a major a-ha moment, create their own legacy projects, and see their dreams come to fruition lights me up more than anything.
And to be honest, I suddenly felt like for me, performing was perhaps more about my own ego than anything else. Yes, I’m sharing music. Yes, I’m communicating stories and emotions. Yes, I hope the people in the audience are touched and moved, and feel a wonderful sense of human connection. But I also just wanted to play really well, and have them like me and the way I played. I certainly didn’t feel like I was making any kind of impact on the world.
But in the work I am doing as a coach, a mentor, and as a writer, I DO feel like I’m making a difference.
When a client messages me out of the blue and says that they have just realized that every dream they had when they started working with me has now come true and that they are happier than they ever could have imagined because of the work we have done together?
I’ll spill the tea about what is next for me in a future post, but after sitting in this “post-cellist” life for a little while now, here are a few interesting observations.
1. People get VERY invested in other people’s identities, and they might need time to grieve their loss too.
2. That doesn’t mean you owe it to anyone to remain steadfast in their view of you. Just because they have always known you as “Joe the pianist” doesn’t mean you always have to BE Joe, the pianist.
3. People in industries other than music seem to understand that this was a big, momentous decision, but are mostly excited to hear about what’s next for me.
4. Most people want to reassure me that I can always change my mind at any time, and that it wouldn’t take me more than a couple of weeks to get back my chops back. (Great! But I’m all set, thanks.)
5. An alarming number of people have looked at me and said “yeah, but, like, you’d play a concert with/for me if I needed you, right?” (Correct Answer: nope! Not even for you. But I still love you.)
6. People in the music industry have either unfriended/unfollowed me (because without a cello, I’m useless to them?) or reached out to tell me that they also want to stop playing and do something else, but feel like they aren’t “allowed” to.
7. The biggest and most surprising bit of inner turmoil I faced was anxiety over whether people only liked or loved me as a cellist. I mean, my husband met a cellist, fell in love with a cellist, and married a cellist. Would he still want to be with me if I stopped being that cellist? (Correct Answer: So far, Yes! (phew.))
I’m still not sure what to call it. “I’ve quit being a cellist” doesn’t sit well when I’m on zoom giving a lesson on the Barber Cello Concerto, and “I’ve retired” doesn’t sit well when I’m working with a client on strategizing their next project launch, and “bowing out graciously” just makes me sound old and decrepit. Despite how my knees felt after this morning’s run, I’m not QUITE there yet!
So I’ll offer this, to anyone who finds comfort in labels or definitions: I’m moving on from performing in order to focus on other, more fulfilling facets of my career. And it feels amazing.
I’m so grateful for my training, my teachers, the sacrifices my family made in order to pay for lessons, instruments, festivals, etc., (apologies to my poor brother who never got to go on nice vacations growing up “because cello lessons are expensive”) and for the incredible opportunities that came my way because of my cello playing; but those experiences are mine forever. The friendships I formed through music? I treasure them deeply, and those get to remain intact too.
I just don’t have to practice octaves anymore 😉
Cheers,
P.S. If you’re looking for some guidance regarding the next steps in your career, whether that means getting strategies in place to scale things up, or figuring out how to streamline and delegate in order to create more time in your life for the things that are most important to you, let’s talk.
I offer free 30-minute consult calls where we talk about your goals, and what might be most helpful to you right now. I work with both musicians and non-musicians alike, and you can book that call right here.
Throughout my life, there are only two things that have remained constant fixtures: Playing the cello, and Gardening.
In fact, my 2 earliest memories are of eating all of the raspberries in the allotment when I was about 3, and playing French Folk Song in my red and white strawberry dress for my Kindergarten class. (I’m not sure if I was more proud that I got to wear a pretty dress to school or play my cello for my classmates. I think they brought equal amounts of joy that day).
Since that first performance at age 5, I have always had to practice. And with the exception of the years I was in school at New England Conservatory, and then in Miami for the New World Symphony, I have also always had a garden.
Over the past two years, through the work I’ve been doing with my Virtual Summer Cello Festival, and Bridge Online Cello Studio students, I have spent a lot of time boiling down the best, most efficient, and most effective methods of crafting music (ie: practicing). Alongside that, came the time and space to learn more about the best, most efficient, and effective methods of growing a garden.
And, surprisingly, they are exactly the same.
In gardening, one must look at their space, the amount of sunlight it gets, what and how much they want to grow, and at which point of the year those plants will thrive. Even here in Bermuda, there is no point in planting lettuce in June. It’s just too hot, and don’t expect your peppers to grow in January–too dark!
Likewise, as musicians, it’s important to look at the year. When do you have auditions, competitions, performances, and tours? How much time do you have to practice? Can you repeat programs? When is the best time in the year to schedule the premier of that (totally impossible to play) new piece? Probably not the week you get back from vacation.
I had the perfect plan for one of my flower beds. Onion sets would be planted in mid-October and would be ready for harvest in mid-March–just in time for my pepper and eggplant seedlings to go into the ground. Except…the cold fall meant that the onion sets weren’t available until early November, and they weren’t ready to be pulled until mid-April. Meanwhile, my peppers and eggplants were bursting out of their little pots. I don’t know why the onions are taking longer than usual, but they are. And instead of trying to force them (only to be faced with rotten onions later on), I needed to adjust. So, we changed course. I put the peppers and eggplant into the potato bed (I’ll find another spot for those later) and can let my onions take whatever time they need.
In Music, we often have to adjust. Perhaps you planned on learning some new rep for an upcoming performance, but life got in the way, and you didn’t have the necessary time to adequately prepare it. So you swap it out for something that feels more comfortable. You’ll have time to learn and perform the new rep later. Often students will get “stuck” on a concerto because competitions and auditions keep popping up and they need to use it….again. And then they win, so they need to keep it ready to perform.
So yes, the plan will change and you will need to adapt, but without the plan in the first place, you’d just feel lost all the time and wouldn’t know what you were adjusting to.
In the plant world, if you plant certain things in close proximity, you’ll have greater success. My yields improved dramatically this year when I planted Borage (a plant with little blue flowers that are like crack for bees) amongst my vegetables. My garden is FULL of bees now, happily sucking the nectar from the borage, and then pollinating all of my vegetables. But, putting certain other plants next to each other is a bad idea. One attracts a bug that will decimate the other, for instance. So it’s important to know what works with what, and which things to keep away from each other.
Same thing in music. It’s so important to find other musicians to collaborate with that make your heart sing. That pianist that always seems to make you play better–where rehearsals are full of laughter and inspiration, the quartet that has an easy way of communicating with one another. And it’s equally important to understand that, for whatever reason, some people might not be the best fit and they never will be. Don’t try to force it. Your companion plant is out there.
Ahhh…synthetic fertilizers. Use it on your plants, and they will double in size, throw out tons of flowers or vegetables, and generally shine for you. But they won’t taste as nice, it’ll kill all of the good insects buzzing around, and you’ll be destroying the soil (so good luck next season!)
As musicians, we can see right through fakeness…eventually. The person at the rehearsals who wants to be your BFF, hang out, have lunch, grab a coffee, and then, ZING, starts hinting (not-so-subtly) that they want you to get them on that sweet sweet gig you get to do every summer? Yeah. don’t do that. Form genuine relationships with the people you work with. See above about whether it works or not.
Some tasks in the garden require heavy lifting, a lot of energy, and a lot of time and focus. Yesterday, I planted a pomegranate tree that has been sitting in its pot long enough. It needed to go into the ground. But I knew it would require a lot of digging, dragging large bags of soil and compost, pruning the tree, etc. I meant to do it on Saturday, but I was feeling a bit low energy on Saturday, so instead of planting the pomegranate tree, I did some other important tasks that required less exertion. Sunday I had more energy and the tree got planted.
I’ve never understood people who had the same practice routine that they did day in and day out. No matter what. I teach my students different ways to approach their practice that go along with what kind of mood they’re in. From slow, quiet intonation work, to a full-out mock performance run-through, to drilling the trickier passages. We can use our shifting energy levels to our advantage if we pay close attention to them. This also takes away the “I can’t practice, I’m too tired.” excuse. Because they know there is work that they can do when they’re tired, and it will still benefit them.
I’m not going to grow turnips, and I’m not going to grow kale. I don’t care how easy they are. I don’t care how healthy they are. I don’t like them. I never have, I never will. And I have grown many a kale plant that just grows and grows and I never pick the leaves (because I don’t like it) and they take up a ton of space, and I feel virtuous for growing Kale, and everyone comes over and remarks on how awesome it is that I’m growing kale (and such an enormous plant, too!) I’m done with Kale. And Turnips.
I also spent years (so many years) of my life playing contemporary music. From NEC to New World, to Tanglewood, to freelancing in Boston, it seemed the cool kids were always the “new music” crowd. I loved the people, I loved the scene, I loved that I was a part of something great and important–allowing today’s generation of composers to be heard– and I played a lot of great pieces. Oliver Knussen, George Benjamin, Michael Gandolfi, Jessie Montgomery, Andrew Norman, Caroline Shaw, Joan Tower. I could go on and on with all of the great experiences I had.
But I didn’t love it. My dyslexic brain has a REALLY HARD TIME reading music in general, and this was just exhausting. And in between those great moments were a lot of just “meh” moments, and in between those, were some really unbearable moments. So while I will always support new music (musically and financially) I’m not going to play it unless I really want to.
So please, play what you love. Explore, take risks, all of that, but mostly, play what you love.
Sometimes I just sit in my garden with a cup of coffee and just watch. I see where the bees go, how the sun is hitting certain plants more than others, how that branch has grown so much it’s casting shade on the beets, etc. I notice things I wouldn’t normally have seen, and I’m able to make the necessary adjustments.
In the practice room, it’s just as important to spend time quietly observing your work as it is hacking away at it. The quiet observation can come from looking at the score and noticing new details, or from listening to a recording you just made and taking notes.
Take moments here and there to just watch. What’s happening with your shoulder there? Is that tension? And there…that phrase didn’t seem to go anywhere. What does it need?
I keep a garden log, and when I was a student, I kept a practice log. I wanted to learn what worked, and what didn’t. From my garden log, I learn just how long it took a seed to germinate. I learned which plants will thrive in Bermuda, and which will say “no thanks!” I learn how late in the season I can grow potatoes before they succumb to blight due to humidity, and I learn the results of various experiments I try. All in the name of doing it better next time.
In practicing, the log or journal can keep track of how long it took for a piece to be committed to memory, or how many weeks it took you to get that tricky passage in tune and up to tempo. Recording yourself is, of course, one of the best ways to collect data: Where are you in the process right now? You can take notes on what you want to fix, and work from those.
I’m a big believer in the Pareto Principle: That 80% of your results will come from 20% of your effort. Keeping track of things will teach you what your 20% is. Do you make more progress when you practice at a certain time of day? When you’re actively listening to recordings (yours and those of other professionals?) when you practice slowly? Or when you start with a full warm-up? What is working? What is a waste of time?
At the end of the day, it’s about the quality of your soil. The micro-organisms that are happily living underneath the ground eating, pooping, dying, and decaying. It’s incredible what is happening down there. The worms are creating holes in the soil for the plant roots to crawl into. Without those holes, the roots get stuck. Stuck roots mean stunted plants. But you won’t see any worms unless there is good organic material in that soil. Compost, vegetable scraps, seaweed–all that good stuff. And pour that synthetic fertilizer on the plants to get them to grow anyway? You can definitely forget about those worms.
Any musician will agree that without a foundation of good technique, proper posture, bow hold, embouchure, etc. there is no amount of talent or time in the practice room that is going to help. As boring as it might be to stare at your slowly moving arm in a mirror for 5 minutes, It is worth spending time on those foundational basics. Without it, you won’t get very far.
You can’t force a season. Gardening has a rhythm built-in. you plant the seeds and wait for them to germinate. Then you plant them and wait for them to grow. Then you harvest them and wait for them to finish, then you let the soil rest a bit and…wait. Even here in Bermuda, where we technically can grow food year-round, the summers are generally too hot and dry for things to be very happy. In fact, my sun and heat-loving nightshades (tomatoes, peppers, eggplants) will go dormant from late July to August. They won’t die. They just stop producing for a bit, and when things cool down a bit, they kick back into gear.
As musicians, we need to build in a rhythm as well. We have “the season” from September until May, and then “the summer” from June-August. And summer festivals feel wildly different than the rest of the year, but we need to think about a rhythm to our work. A new piece. Getting to know it, figuring out our interpretation, memorizing (if appropriate) performing, making it our own. All of these things need time, and they need patience. We have all had students (and have all probably BEEN that student at some point) that always had their eye on “the next piece” and was always in a hurry to be “done” with their current repertoire.
Patience, grasshopper. All in good time.
For me, being a cellist was always about the process, from learning a new challenging piece to playing around with concert programming, I loved preparing for things even more than I loved actually doing them (though that was fun, too)
Same with my teaching. I love watching the growth from one lesson to the next, which exercises will help this student the most? I had a student perform this past Sunday-a student who for years suffered from crippling performance anxiety, just walk onto the stage confidently and played the beep out of the Boccherini Concerto. I was proud of her performance, of course, but I was more moved by what it represented for the growth in her mental game than her musical one.
And as a gardener, I suppose it’s the same. While I do love sitting and admiring my plants, flowers, veggies, bees, happily buzzing away, and all that good stuff, What I truly love about gardening, is seeing the health of my soil improve from year to year. More worms, greener plants, larger vegetables. I love planning new beds and observing what happens when I do this, or that. Does it improve the situation or make everything die?
Our work as musicians is so much more rewarding if we see it for the long game it truly is. What relationships will we nurture?
How can you take that long view this week in your own work? What plan can you put in place? How can you adapt that plan? Who can you help/accept help from? Do what feels more organic and authentically you? Build on your strengths? Amend your weak points? Play music that excites you? Calmly observe your work? Learn from the data? Lay a good foundation? Show patience with yourself?
Happy Practicing (or gardening….if that’s your thing 😉
Cheers,
P.S. Did you find this helpful? Sign up for “The Weekend List”–my weekly newsletter that hits your inbox each Friday with more tips, tricks, and life hacks for creatives, as well as a curated list of things to read, try, ponder, or check out. All geared to help musicians and creatives live their best lives.
I have a bone to pick with the current concept of “Self-Care.”
Now, before you freak out on me, hear me out.
Anyone who reads this blog knows that I am ALL ABOUT taking care of yourself. Living the life of your dreams, working smarter so that you can work less, so that you can sleep more, dream more, live more.
But…things are getting a bit carried away.
It’s been a few years now since the whole “Morning Routine” thing caught on, and that was nice. It was somewhat interesting to read about how different people started their days off, but these days, it’s more about the social media trend and glorification of “That Girl” and what “She’s” doing every day that everyone wants to emulate. On Tik Tok alone, videos with the hashtag #thatgirl have gotten over 2 BILLION VIEWS. And, oh, man. “That Girl” has basically taken every item on every single morning routine list and combined it into one overwhelming behemoth of an expectation for mere humans.
I would argue that while the idea of “self-care” started out to be a balm against the burnout epidemic caused by an unhealthy “hustle and grind” culture, it has morphed into its own level of obsessive and unhealthy behavior.
“That Girl” gets up early and does her 24-step skincare routine and hand-picks her matcha green tea leaves in Bali and sips it while she goes between her sauna and her ice baths.
And just as people felt horribly inept and unworthy when they weren’t pulling all-nighters and working 24/7 during the hustle-years, now, people are being made to feel unworthy if they don’t wake up at 4 am and spend the next 6 hours following a laundry list of “living my best life” directives.
Self-care has started to spiral out of control into it’s own form of hustle culture. I’m fearful it’s going to end up killing us all.
Seriously–here’s one I read about recently:
WHAT? By my count, that is FOUR HOURS of morning routine, and you’re not even dressed yet!
But aside from the fact that no one actually does this list of things more than (maybe?!) once, one thing that stands out to me is that in those first 4 hours of being awake, in this long list of “important things to do in order to be my best self and live my best life” nowhere, NOWHERE does it mention another being. There’s no “kiss my partner good morning” or “call my sister” or “text back and forth with my best friend” or “snuggle fest with my dog”
Is “That Girl” really so alone? It’s very clear she doesn’t have kids but does she not have a job? Does she need to practice? How can she afford all of that Matcha?
While a 20-part morning routine is a bit excessive, we all have a few things that we need to do in order to start our day feeling centered and not in complete chaos. For me, that includes the following 3 things:
Each day might look slightly different. I might make the bed as soon as I get out of it, or I might get to it later–after a garden stroll and a dog walk. There’s no set order (except for the coffee–that’s pretty much an as-soon-as-my-eyes-are-open kinda thing.)
Do I lie in bed and scroll through social media? Some days, yes. Others, no. do I get up early and go to the gym? A few times a week (if it’s a good week!). Do I stretch? If I’m feeling tight, yes.
The thing is, there are hundreds of things we can do each day to help us be our healthiest, perform our best, and be “That Girl”. But I don’t think any of us have time to do ALL of them EVERY day.
Many of them can be built in as habits, like taking vitamins, making the bed, drinking a glass of water, etc. They can become automatic and take very little time.
But perhaps one shouldn’t feel obligated to do every single thing, every single day. Pick a few biggies that are your non-negotiables, add in 1 new one for a week to see how it feels, and for the rest? Maybe try to do them once a month or so.
Because to me? Self-Care feels like I am living according to my values, and my values tell me to get enough sleep, enjoy a good cup of coffee, and bask in my little family of husband, dog, cats, and garden. If I can start my day with those things in place, the rest is just gravy.
Cheers!
P.S. Did you find this helpful? Sign up for “The Weekend List”–my weekly newsletter that hits your inbox each Friday with more tips, tricks, and life hacks for creatives, as well as a curated list of things to read, try, ponder, or check out. All geared to help musicians and creatives live their best lives.
As Creatives, our careers are made up of a series of projects. Whether you are a musician, a dancer, an actor, a writer, or a visual artist, opportunities are presented to us almost daily in the form of invitations, requests, and our own ideation.
But we all know what happens if we simply say yes to everything, right? It’s a recipe for burnout and overwhelm.
I once had a colleague at an arts organization I was doing some work with. He was in an admin/management/ops position and was in charge of making sure everything ran smoothly.
He was smart, capable, and truly had the organization’s best interest at heart.
But at every single planning meeting, he would storm off in a puff of frustrated anger shouting “No! No! No! We cannot add more! We can’t do it because of A, because of B, and because of C.”
And privately, he would bemoan the artistic staff and how clueless they were about the realities of the situation. Understaffed. Every cent in the budget was spoken for. There’s not enough time in the schedule as it is, etc. etc. “Why didn’t they understand?”
He felt very strongly that he was the only sane person in the room, and that it was his job to stand strong and keep the organization from taking on more than it could handle.
The organization stalled. It lost momentum. It stopped growing. People grew bored with the status quo. Eventually, he left and moved on to a new position in a new organization. And as much as we all loved him, we were relieved.
Because he wasn’t making decisions in the right way, and as a result, he wasn’t allowing the organization to make the right decisions.
He had a classic “No, Because” attitude instead of a “Yes, if” attitude.
Stay with me.
It’s very easy when we are presented with a new opportunity, to simply see how it fits in with your current situation.
Whether it’s a gig that comes up last minute, a new teaching position, an audition that you might want to take, or a new project that you’ve always dreamed about doing, It’s usually the case that it WON’T fit into your life as it is. Or that it will, but it’ll have detrimental effects later on.
Example #1: The contractor from an orchestra 30 miles away that you play with occasionally calls needing a last-minute sub for this weekend’s big concert. You don’t have access to the car, the rehearsal schedule happens to conflict with 3 lessons you are teaching over that weekend, and you were looking forward to finally having a weekend afternoon free.
Answer #1: No, because my partner needs the car that weekend and I have to teach.
Answer #2: Yes, if I can carpool with another player, and if my 3 students are willing and able to reschedule their lessons.
Example #2: There’s an opportunity to show your art at a gallery in town, but the deadline for submissions is SOON, and you are already busy at work and at home taking care of the kids after school.
Answer #1: No, because it’s not a good time-I’m super busy.
Answer #2: Yes, If I can get that new intern to help with this project at work, and if I can put the kids into the after-school program for a couple of weeks so that I have a couple of hours to paint each afternoon.
Example #3: A group of your students comes up to you with this amazing idea to get all of the students from nearby schools together to do a massive fundraising concert for a worthy cause close to their heart. You’re swamped as it is, and don’t really trust these students to make it happen. You know it’s going to fall on your shoulders.
Answer #1: No, because it’s too much with everything that we have going on. We’re trying to get ready for our own concert, and I’m completely swamped.
Answer #2: Yes, if you kids can write a proposal, get the other schools/directors on board, and if we use some of the repertoire we are playing in our upcoming concert, some pieces from the fall concert, and just 1 new short piece.
The “No, Because” answers simply took in the status quo to make the decision. This is how it is, and so we cannot do X.
The “Yes, If” answers, however, got creative, and took into consideration the possibility of growth all-around. Can we improve or change the current circumstances to allow for this new opportunity to thrive?
Now, I should say: declaring “Yes, if” does not lock you into doing anything. It’s simply that. Yes. This is possible IF these parameters are put into place. Those involved in making the decision, then, are the ones to decide whether THAT is possible or desirable.
Maybe you don’t want to put your kids into afterschool. Maybe you love spending that time with them in the afternoon.
Maybe you would prefer to have some of your weekend time clear–and even though you could do that gig, you’d prefer to have more time at home, and less time in the car.
Circling back to those painful planning meetings, if our colleague had had more of a “Yes, If” attitude, it might have sounded more like this.
“I love it–great idea! I think we could make this happen if we can bring in $30,000 more in funding and if we hire 2 temporary workers: 1 to help the marketing dept. with the promotion and 1 to help with general rehearsal set up–our current ops staff will already be busy handling other things. Also, we’ll need to put off this other project we’ve been working on so that we can focus on getting this one off the ground. It also conflicts with my anniversary trip to Hawaii, so everyone will have to be okay with my not being present during the actual shows.”
See how he would have left it in their court? If they don’t think they can raise that $30K, and they aren’t willing to hire the 2 temps, then they can make the decision that it’s not worth it, or the timing isn’t right.
And if the project IS worth it? Then they will raise the money and hire the additional staff. Other projects will be put on hold, and the new initiative gets launched.
How many opportunities have you passed up simply because you weren’t seeing past your current circumstance?
How many new projects have you taken on without thinking about what will truly be needed for it to thrive and to keep you from burning out?
It’s not just Yes or No.
Try to start with a “Yes, if….”
And then decide from there what is best for you.
Cheers!
P.S. Did you find this helpful? Sign up for “The Weekend List”–my weekly newsletter that hits your inbox each Friday with more tips, tricks, and life hacks for creatives, as well as a curated list of things to read, try, ponder, or check out. All geared to help musicians and creatives live their best lives.
I am so excited to be bringing back my Spotlight Series! This monthly series features amazing creatives that are doing things THEIR way, and on THEIR terms. Each one of them has contributed to the betterment of their industry by following their dreams as well as their hearts; all the while, listening to their gut instincts.
The series returns today with another inspiring human, oboist, reedmaker, and now author, (and my dear friend) Jennet Ingle.
As an oboist, Jennet has served as Principal Oboist of the South Bend Symphony Orchestra since 2006 and performs as soloist and chamber musician across stages everywhere. She is a teacher, a coach, and a community-builder through her various programs.
In 2020, the most isolating year of our lifetimes, Jennet worked to build a community for oboists. Her signature group program, the Invincible Oboist, demystifies instrumental skills and helps oboists to get past the STRUGGLE to find ease in their playing. She created a Reed Club that meets every Monday for social connection and to discuss details of the reedmaking process. She started a group program for reedmaking beginners, as well – Zero to Reedmaker – which teaches the process through a series of group classes and accountability.
As the owner and operator of Jennet Ingle Reeds, she makes and sells over two hundred handmade reeds every month to oboists all over the world and has helped hundreds of people with their own reed-making through her video series, The Five Minute Reedmaker, her weekly online Reed Club and annual live Oboe Reed Boot Camps.
In her spare time, Jennet pours her energy into Prone Oboe, a blog about her active life and a behind-the-scenes look at the process of learning, teaching, and performing music at a high level. She sends a weekly email newsletter filled with ideas for her community – about the intersections of oboe, life, and entrepreneurship.
I had the chance to ask Jennet about her approach to music-making, entrepreneurship, what inspires her, and her incredible new book: The Happiest Musician (which you should all run out and get immediately!)
TFTL: Where do you live and what is your favorite thing about living there?
JI: I live in South Bend, IN. It’s a really NICE city, and I live very close to a riverside path where I can run in nature every day. I like my orchestra here and the cost of living is VERY low which made it possible to get comfortable fast and build our lives easily.
TFTL: At what age did you start playing the oboe? Were you naturally drawn to it, or was it something that someone suggested you try?
JI: I was ten, in my fifth-grade band program. I knew it was my instrument the moment I heard it! I was lucky to have a real oboist teaching woodwinds in my elementary school, so I was set up with good fundamentals from the beginning and no one told me it was hard.
TFTL: When/How/Why did you decide to write a book? Was it outside your comfort zone or something you had some familiarity with already?
JI: The idea came out of a coaching session and felt immediately resonant. I’d always been a reader, and books have been so influential for me, and I wanted a way to make an impact. I had been blogging for a long time – ever since my child was a baby – and I was writing all the time, so 650 words at a time felt really comfortable to me. The idea of making an outline and writing something long-form was new but not unreasonably new – musicians are comfortable with taking big projects and breaking them down into manageable tasks, so it was easy to imagine my first steps and just start.
TFTL: I get a lot of requests from high school and conservatory students to give them a taste of what different career paths really look like. What does a typical month of work look like for you?
JI: It’s a lot. I spend ten or twelve hours every week on my reed business – making the reeds and sorting them. I have someone who does the shipping for me, which saves me HOURS. I spend ten hours or so teaching and coaching, between one-to-one sessions and group programs. I try to create something every day, whether that’s a blog post, a video, an email to my list… but of course, I also have to practice my instrument and go to actual gigs. As a freelancer, this means a different orchestra and challenge each week! This month I’m playing a video game concert this week, a recital and a cirque concert next week, two recitals the following week, and a masterworks concert after that.
TFTL: Did you always have a clear picture of what you wanted your career to look like?
JI: I always knew that my life would revolve around the oboe. I didn’t realize when I was younger that that would include playing it, speaking and teaching about it, writing about it, making reeds for it, and running the business I’m currently running. It was simpler in my head when I assumed that all I would do is sit in an orchestra playing solos. But I also feel like that simple idea would have bored me and burned me out.
TFTL: What were some of the obstacles that you faced in your path towards becoming a professional musician?
JI: I had assumed that in order to be a “real” professional musician I had to start by winning an audition into a “real” orchestra. And I was out on the audition circuit for YEARS, being in the finals, being the runner-up, winning little jobs but not big jobs. I was successfully making my full-time living as an oboist years before I actually believed that I was successful.
TFTL: What do you think it takes to “make it” in today’s classical music world?
JI: It takes creativity. It takes being willing to think outside the box – in the way you teach, the way you practice, the way you help to publicize events you are involved with and the way you look at the big picture as you start your own projects. We were raised to learn and play the notes on the page, but we need more than just that skill – we need to be COMMUNICATORS.
TFTL: Practicing: Love it or hate it? What do you find is the most challenging aspect of it?
JI: I love it. I wish I had more time to do it. Digging into interesting challenges on the instrument is a reliable path into the FLOW state for me, and I crave this state of pleasurable work. There are so many other claims on my time – as a business owner, a teacher, a coach, a mother – and practicing nearly always feels like the lowest priority of the day. Making myself prioritize the creative work of practicing, which is important but rarely urgent, is the greatest challenge.
TFTL: Do you have a morning ritual or routine to get you going each day? Can you share some of it with us?
JI: I start with coffee and journaling. It feels really important to me to get my mind clear and my day planned before I start. I also try to get outside as early as possible every day, especially in the winter. Sunshine is really important for my mental health, and it’s hard to come by in Indiana!
TFTL: What is your favorite thing about attending (not performing in) a classical music concert these days?
JI: There’s a lot that really annoys me about the way classical music concerts are run – the stuffiness, the rituals – but what I love is watching real humans work to create beauty, work to do something supremely difficult and athletic and artistic, and work to overcome their own mental and physical obstacles to SHARE something with the audience. I love this dance, I love it every time.
TFTL: What 5 things are always in your carry-on when you’re traveling?
JI: A book. My journal. My computer so I can create whatever occurs to me and be in touch with the world. A tarot deck. And lotion because I hate it when my hands and face feel dry.
And where else can people find you?
Would you love to transform your creative career into something you truly love? Are you unsure where to even start? I’ve got you covered. These are the exercises I use for myself and my clients to help us see new opportunities and possibilities. You can grab it here for free today.
Cheers!
I was in a discussion yesterday with a very wise woman, who mentioned that perhaps the most important thing (and she really did mean The Most Important Thing) was to feel relaxed.
Immediately, I thought of how musicians tend to feel right before we begin a performance, or actors when they are about to walk on stage, or writers just as they are about to hit “publish”. As we take those steps towards our most important work, we feel a lot of things. However, I’m not sure Relaxed is the right word.
But maybe it should be. Here are 4 reasons why:
To me, when I am feeling relaxed, it means there is an absence of those 4 horsemen above. I am doing my thing, in the flow, in the zone. I feel at ease. When I’m about to perform, the last thing I want to feel is fear of not playing well, the stress of too many long practice days, the shame of not feeling prepared, and just forget about tension–that’s a recipe for disaster.
When I am sitting in my sunroom with a fresh cup of coffee and a book, feeling relaxed, it’s because I know my work is done, things are taken care of, and there’s nothing else I need to be doing. All is as it should be. Wouldn’t that be a great place to walk out on stage from? That all is as it should be?
On a beautiful warm, sunny day, I could spend hours in the garden. And if I have a clear day on the calendar, I can practice, write, or read without noticing the time passing. When we are in a relaxed state, we are free of distracting thoughts and concerns, and we can work uninterrupted. There is nothing blocking us from getting into the zone. Which is ideally where we want to be when we’re performing.
We can think more clearly, react faster, and make better decisions. And so, while I always considered that bolt of adrenaline to be a key factor in any good performance, maybe that’s just a bonus. Maybe the real key, the Most Important Thing is to get oneself into that Relaxed State. Free of fear, shame, tension, and stress. Knowing that the work is done, all is as it should be, and we are free to get focused and enter the zone.
And if it’s true that we all universally function better in a relaxed state, how can we create an environment that lends itself to others getting into that relaxed state as well?
How can we welcome our students into their lessons in a way that better allows them to leave those 4 horsemen at the door? How can I ensure that my coaching clients are able to find that sense of safety and clarity in their sessions with me?
And in what ways could we do more to create or sustain such an environment of relaxed community for our colleagues, our family, and anyone we interact with?
Food for thought on this gloomy Monday. I would really love to hear your ideas about this. Leave a comment or shoot me an email.
Cheers,
Sign up for “The Weekend List”–my weekly newsletter that hits your inbox each Friday with my curated list of things to read, try, ponder, or check out. All geared to help musicians and creatives live their best lives.
There are a lot of folks out there peddling “Productivity Hacks” or “How to be more productive” “Get More Done in Less Time!” and for the most part, I ignore them. I do a lot, and I think I work pretty well. If I use someone’s hacks to work faster, I’ll just end up working more, and eventually, I’ll be working too much, and I’ll burn out. No one wants that.
But here is something that I DO commit myself to doing every so often. The point of it isn’t to be a productivity hack per se, but it’s the best way I know to get amazing, focused work done without feeling exhausted at the end of it. In fact, I usually end up feeling more refreshed than I have in a while.
Have you ever read or done The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron? I first came across this gem of a book when I was in my mid-20’s, and I still take it out and go through the 12-week process of journaling and exercises every few years as a sort of “alignment check-in”. I have found it enormously helpful at various stages in my life and career. It’s currently guiding me through the most monumental change I’ve gone through.
One of my favorite exercises in the book occurs in week 4, and that is the exercise of “Content Deprivation”. She calls it “Reading Deprivation” but she also wrote it in the ’90s, and back then, actual reading was pretty much your only option for taking in content!
For 1 entire week, you are not allowed to read anything, nor are you allowed to watch TV. In the 2022 version, that would also include no social media scrolling, podcasts, audiobooks, youtube videos, gaming, or Netflix.
The idea is that for 1 week, you stop consuming content, and instead, you spend more of your time producing content. That can mean:
You will feel the results of this exercise both internally and externally. Yes-you will get more accomplished, but it will change the way you think, and the way you see the world around you. Bold statement? Yes. Also: True.
I dare you to take a guess at how much of a normal day you spend consuming content. If you’re like me, you’ll say something like: “Well, I scroll Instagram or Twitter for a few minutes in the morning, and then I listen to a podcast when I go for a walk, and I watch an episode or two each evening after dinner.”
And then try it tomorrow. Put the phone down (posting your own content is okay). No clicking on those medium articles that pop into your email. In fact, no clicking on anything that will take you down a content-consuming rabbit hole. No watching someone’s Live that pops up when you were in the middle of something else, no staring at Pinterest for 45 minutes looking for just the right minestrone recipe. You get the idea. You’ll be shocked at just how much time you normally spend consuming content.
Since The Artist’s Way is a book on cultivating creativity, the main point of this exercise is to get us to take creative action in those moments we would otherwise be enjoying someone else’s creative output. But here are 4 additional (and amazing) reasons to do a content deprivation day or week.
I’ve always considered myself a pretty efficient worker. I get shit done. But during Deprivation Week I am much better about how I use my time. I realized that I would go to linked in to check someone’s title, and I would get distracted by a notification, click on an article, and 10 minutes later….there I was. Doing and thinking about something completely off task. I’d get right back to my task, and I’d finish it, but usually not without getting distracted by several more emails, videos, and articles first.
Now? 1 tab at a time unless I am actively using something for immediate, in-the-moment research. The result? Not only does my work get done faster, but my head remains clearer throughout the process. I’m not having to constantly bring myself back to the task at hand. There is less time transitioning from one thought world to another.
All of those small bits of time–the 15 minutes before you start teaching, the 10 minutes until dinner is finished when you’re sitting in the car picking someone up? Normally you’d use that time to consume something, right? You’d open up Facebook or Twitter, or you’d have a book with you or a podcast. There is always something there to fill the void.
But when those things are off-limits? You’ll find yourself remembering that you need to refill that Rx or order more contacts. Make that appointment, water the houseplants, or put that bag of clothes to be donated in the car. As you cross off those little things that have been on your to-do list for months, go ahead and feel like the gold medal olympian you are. You deserve it.
I was walking Tango this morning in the Botanic Gardens––one of our favorite spots. I usually spend this time listening to a podcast, feeling very smug that I am accomplishing 3 things at once. Walking Dog. Spending time outside. Learning something new. But today there was no podcast. It was just me and Tango. We watched the butterflies dance around the wildflowers that were blooming in the back trails, I noticed different flowers, people- (and dog-) watched and soaked up the morning sunshine. Getting back in my car, instead of thinking intensely about whatever I had been hearing on the podcast, I felt relaxed and free.
This is prime time for your best ideas to make themselves known to you. No longer blocked by information going in, your own thoughts start to pop out. Especially when you’re just about to get bored. Don’t be surprised if sudden thoughts about starting a festival, the most perfect concert program idea, or an idea about a resource you could put together for your students appear out of the blue.
I’m 3 days into my content deprivation week right now, and besides all of the work I’ve managed to do in half the normal amount of time, I have planted my broccoli seedlings, made vet appointments for the animals, renewed my Rx, had a lovely long chat with an old friend (her life is as interesting as the best Netflix series anyway, so…) cleaned out the guest room, and made a new soup recipe.
But more importantly, I’ve had some lovely quiet walks, took a long bubble bath, had a 1 person dance party in my kitchen, had interesting conversations with my husband (that didn’t revolve around a TV show), and just got quiet with my own thoughts. I’ve gotten more work done, yes. But I also feel calmer, more relaxed, and more centered.
What about you? Could you do it? If you really can’t fathom a week (you’d be surprised!) maybe you could do it for a day? Maybe you could get your whole family in on it and report back on the experience.
Leave a comment and let me know if you do try it, and how it was for you!
Cheers,
Sign up for “The Weekend List”–my weekly newsletter that hits your inbox each Friday with my curated list of things to read, try, ponder, or check out. All geared to help musicians and creatives live their best lives.
As I wrap up the 4th(!) launch of my group program–Profit Pivot– this week, I’m having some great conversations with the most amazing group of artists and musicians and welcoming them into this world of artistic entrepreneurship. As I talk with them and hear their excitement, their fears, and their “what if I can’t do it” thoughts, I’ve been thinking a lot about my clients–and the past cohorts of Profit Pivot in particular.
What I find interesting is that, although they all set about to do completely different projects-from private studio re-structuring to summer festivals, to long-term courses to performance series to movement and fitness work, I can point to 5 clear behaviors that the most successful of my clients all shared in common.
They showed up live when they could, and if they couldn’t, they would take the time to watch the replay video. They still left comments and found a way to engage with the group and with the topic. They formed friendships with other people in the group and would hold each other accountable. They found ways to connect with each member of the group.
From an “I could use a virtual hug today” to a “Does anyone know how to do xyz in Canva?” They didn’t let themselves get unnecessarily stuck or slowed down. This one was the hardest lesson for me to learn as a new entrepreneur. I grew up thinking that to ask for help meant I was bothering someone, and that I should just figure it out on my own. That thinking certainly allowed me to become the independent and resourceful person I am, but it also wasted a TON of my time. Now that I’ve learned how to ask for help, I not only get things done faster, but I get to experience the beauty of human inter-dependency. Something that I realized I had missed out on for way too long.
Different from the “Fake it till you make it” mentality, allowing yourself to take on behaviors, styles, and attitudes that you had assigned “Future You” gets you there sooner. Like my client who told me that her future (successful) self would take a coffee to the beach in the morning and watch the sunrise. Was there something stopping her from doing that tomorrow morning? Nope. She lived near the beach, she had coffee, and she had the time. It just wasn’t something that she ever did.
Once she started doing it, however, she started to FEEL like the more successful version of herself, which made her feel more confident, which helped her to keep taking those bold, courageous actions.
There are going to be days when you are so excited to have accomplished something new, and there are going to be days when you are wondering why that post you put out didn’t get any engagement. Or just as you find 2 new students to fill your new studio, someone else backs out. What mattered?–they kept going even when things felt hard.
They were able to get themselves to take the scary, courageous action–even when they were absolutely terrified of failing. And then they KEPT doing it over and over until that muscle became stronger.
I liken it to performance anxiety. Remember the first recital you played and how you felt so nervous and your stomach was queasy and you told your mom you couldn’t play because you didn’t feel well?
And then the next time, you still felt sick to your stomach and still didn’t want to walk out on stage, but you knew you probably wouldn’t, actually, get sick in the middle of your piece.
And now you’ve done it so many times that the nervous twitter in your stomach is something called “excitement” or “pre-performance energy” and it’s not the most comfortable feeling in the world, but it’s somehow familiar and comforting nonetheless.
Same thing.
The truth is that we are all in the same boat. As creatives, our work comes from a place deep within us. That makes sharing it, talking about it, thinking about it (and god forbid, changing it!) an extremely vulnerable experience.
For all of us who yearn to do something different, the first courageous step is simply to admit that. To say to yourself “I would like to do X” Maybe it would bring you joy, fulfillment, maybe it’s always been a dream of yours, or maybe it was an idea that came to you last month and won’t leave you alone until you do it. Maybe you just need more money coming in each month.
The next courageous step is to set about doing it. On your own, if that’s how you work best, or with a coach to help guide you, or with a coach and a group.
And then, as you can see above, it takes leaning into that vulnerability and finding that courage, asking for support, help, guidance, and trusting the ups and downs.
The feeling one gets from having accomplished something that was at one point just an idea, just a dream, is simply incredible. Anyone who has experienced it will tell you there are few things better.
You just have to take that very first step.
Cheers!
P.S. If you’d like to take the 2nd step and talk to me about how I might support you with your creative project, you should simply book a free 30-minute consult call with me this week by clicking HERE. You can tell me what you’re thinking about, we can brainstorm a bit together, and talk about what your next steps might look like.
And if you have no idea WHAT you want to do (you just know you’d like to shift out of your current situation) then check out my free resource on finding your special “thing”: Build Your Best Life Blueprint
Last week’s blog post and ensuing social media posts and my weekly FB live session were all about “Getting past our fear of what other people might think” and one of the points I made garnered so many DMs, Emails, and comments that I decided it needed its own post:
“A lot of our fears are based on the idea that we are deviating from a script that was laid out for us when we were children, and the truth is, those scripts were mostly laid out for us by OTHER children, or by adults who were possibly just making an off the cuff comment. Are you really willing to deny yourself happiness and fulfillment because of what 12-year-old Marcy said to you that one summer at camp?”
One reader wrote:
“Oh my god. I had flashbacks to my junior year in high school when my teacher had my friend apply to a prestigious chamber music festival, and suggested only orchestra camps to me.” I was only 16, but ever since then, I’ve been playing out the script that my only value as a musician is if I’m in the middle of a section. That I’m not cut out for chamber music or solo playing. I don’t love orchestral playing, and yet, that’s what I have done for my entire career. Jesus. I was only 16 years old!”
And that’s just the playing side of things. What other scripts have you based your life on?
I’m certain this is a universal issue. Everyone remembers having been labeled “The [Fill in the blank] One” by their family. But I think that in our peculiar classical music industry–where that 12-year-old Marcy who dared to define us as kids is now 42-year-old Marcy playing in the same orchestra as us, it can be hard to outrun it.
When we are concerned about what others will think of our actions, we’re not just conjuring old ghosts of our pasts. We’re talking about our stand partner, our closest friends, and colleagues (same thing!) The people we work with, the people whose opinions we are concerned about, and those ghosts from our past are all the same people.
Well, it’s our life. It’s our movie, and we are the main character of our movie. We are also the director and the producer of the movie. And most importantly, we are the screenwriter, and we get to decide what the arc of the story is. We can write our own Hero’s Journey, and in doing so, we can disregard anything anyone has ever “decided” for and about us.
In rewriting our own scripts, the scary opinions of others, the naysayers, the old ghosts of our past, 12-Year-Old-F-ing Marcy! Are just the obstacles that the Hero (that’s You!) gets to overcome.
Imagine how freeing it would feel to be living out the movie of your dreams? To be on the path that YOU want to be on, the one YOU chose for yourself. Doing what you love, where you want to do it, and with the people you love right alongside you, supporting you and cheering you on.
I think it’s going to be a huge hit.
Cheers!
P.S. Did this resonate with you? If so, I’d love to invite you to what I think will be a helpful 90-minute workshop this month called “Rewriting the Script: How to Create Your Dream Artistic Life”. Like all of my workshops, it’s totally free, and I’m doing it 3 times over the week so you can choose the day and time that works best for you.
I’ll be taking you through a few of my favorite exercises to help you write the script that YOU want to be living, as well as what I have learned to be the 3 Key Factors in making that script your new reality.
If you would like to join me for this workshop, click on any of the times below to save your spot.
Monday, January 17th at 1:00 pm ET
Tuesday, January 18th at 7:30 pm ET
Saturday, January 22nd at 3:00 pm ET
Happy New Year!
If I could wave my magic wand and change one thing for all of my fellow creatives out there, it would be this:
Or, more importantly, to convince you to ignore that fear. Because let’s face it, it’s holding you back. We’re human, and humans are, by nature, pretty self-absorbed. We constantly wonder what others are thinking about us and saying about us behind our backs, and while that’s a perfectly normal thing, it, unfortunately, keeps a lot of people from living their lives and working towards their dreams.
Sound familiar?
Is there something you’ve always wanted to do, but haven’t because you’re afraid of what others will think?
Yeah, I thought so.
Here’s a blurb from the last newsletter I sent out to my list before the holidays:
“We’re heading into the last of the festive holiday shopping/party/gigging weekends of the year, and it’s a jam-packed weekend of fun. Coffee meet-ups with friends, a boat parade, an ugly sweater party, a chili and cocktails party (best combo ever), and that Christmas Tea I put on my Thrive Fest: Holiday Edition wish list? That’s happening on Sunday, and I can’t wait! We’ll end the weekend with our usual pup quiz (brushing up on Holiday Movie trivia NOW) and then it’s a matter of PCR tests, packing, and flying to the UK for a week with family (fingers crossed!!)”
So, that list above? I was so excited about all of it and yet, writing it made me want to throw up. Why? Fear of judgment from my colleagues in the music industry.
But this fear of judgment is something that we ALL feel, and we feel it often. In fact, it’s the #1 issue that my clients bring up when they are (otherwise) excitedly telling me about an amazing project they’d like to take on.
“What will THEY think?”
And the underlying thought behind all of these? Is the idea that our colleagues want us to just stay in our lane and do what “we’ve” all been doing all these years.
– Like the drinking buddies who get annoyed when you order a non-alcoholic drink.
– Like the friends who get mad that you don’t want dessert when you’re trying to lose a few lbs.
And when it comes to our friends and family (those people who are supposed to love, care, and support us?) When they express concern for our new adventures, it’s (almost) always their way of protecting us from potential failure or heartache.
That’s nice of them.
The trick, I’ve decided, isn’t to stop wondering what those voices are saying (because as humans, we’ll never stop wondering.) and it’s not even to stop fearing it (because again…that’s only human.) But rather, it’s to keep moving forward ANYWAY. To basically say “So what?” to each of those imagined comments.
“She’s going to fall on her face!”
So what?
Trust me, I have felt this fear and heard those imaginary (and some not-so-imaginary) comments so loudly at times that I was literally shaking as I hit “GO” on a post, a project, an announcement, etc.
But every time, I somehow managed to say “So what?” and do it anyway.
At the end of the day, it’s YOUR life, not theirs. And you’ll be the one with the regrets of unrealized dreams and ideas, not them– ”they” will have forgotten all about it in a week anyway.
So, in case you feel like you need permission (you don’t!) I’m here to unnecessarily grant it to you.
Whatever it is.
Maybe you’ll fail.
Maybe it’ll break your heart.
Maybe you’ll take a financial hit.
Maybe it’ll be a huge, life-changing success.
Maybe it’ll teach you important things about yourself and the world.
Maybe it’s what you were always meant to do.
And they just didn’t know it yet.
P.S. Want to get my weekly Newsletter? It’s called The Weekend List, and it comes straight to your inbox every Friday, loaded up with things for you to read, watch, ponder, or try over the weekend. You’ll also be the first to know about new courses, programs, and free workshops that I have planned throughout the year, and get access to early-bird discounts and special “inner-circle only” events. CLICK HERE to sign up.
P.P.S. Looking for a bit of New Year Motivation? Grab my free resource on 5 Ways to Boost Motivation.