I’m a singer with a great support system.

When I write my memoirs, there won’t be a chapter addressing all the people who told me I would fail.

I can’t think of a single person that has actively discouraged me in my pursuit of singing. I count that a blessing. 

The thing that sucks about having so many supportive people in my life, though, is that quite a bit of the time, I don’t know how to answer their questions.

So when are you going to hear back about X audition?

How did Y audition go?

How could you not get Z role/opportunity/audition? Why wouldn’t they want someone like you?

These are all very well-intentioned questions. They indicate interest. People care about what I do as a singer, as a developing artist. That’s comforting. It’s good to know that you have an army, however small, backing you. 

But I truly struggle with answering these questions. How much information do I give them?

“Well, audition Y went pretty well.. except when I totally botched the first high note in my aria and spent the next three measures thinking about aforementioned botching…”

“When will I hear back? Probably never. Unless it’s a three-line letter thanking me for my time and wishing me all the best.”

“Why wouldn’t they want me? Too tall. Too short. Too fat. Too thin. Too blonde. Not blonde enough. Wrong voice type. Right voice type, but no space for me. Too young. Too old. Too expressive. Not expressive enough. Singing the wrong repertoire too early. Singing the right repertoire too late…”

To avoid embarrassing episodes of word vomit, I tend to avoid answering these questions, and if I do–I don’t really answer them. And why? I’m afraid. I’m afraid of disappointing them with my answers.

That? That’s not fair. It’s not fair at all! These friends of mine deserve answers–maybe wholly unsatisfying answers, but they deserve to know something.

It’s my job, and the job of every singer, I think, to own our craft and art. Part of that owning comes in laying bare my own personal insecurities, my own fears, my own questions.

So, next time you ask me a question and I don’t give you a real answer? Do me a favor. Push me.