Having It All

Can you really have it all? I say, “Yes!” If that’s really what you want—and once you decide what “having it all” means for you. While this article is about my life, it’s really about how I found success by setting and examining goals, pursuing them, and having the flexibility to adapt those goals as life has offered me new perspectives and as different goals have emerged. My career may not be visible to many people, but for me and my family—as well as many with whom we interact—it is successful.

For me, “all” is family, interesting and various types of meaningful work, and performing. I get to spend time with my husband and children, live on a farm, work at a university, perform, write, and direct. For example, in 2009, in addition to being the mother of two, I was a museum actor, ballet instructor, rehearsal accompanist, church pianist sub, county fair judge, costumer, sound operator, music director, dresser, usher, and house manager for theatre productions.

But that’s not all. I sold produce and homemade treats at a farmers’ market; shot a commercial; sang with Dayton Opera and solo and chamber concerts on various series; taught theater arts with Summer Advantage USA and at a week-long performance camp; wrote a commissioned script; performed in dinner theater, melodrama, cabarets, and a new musical; taught voice lessons, piano lessons, and music history and conducted a women’s choir as adjunct faculty; sang with a jazz ensemble; and wrote magazine articles. Next year, I expect to do many similar activities in addition to whatever new opportunities may present themselves.

Is That What You Call Success?

What the outside world sees of performing artists is a very narrow slice of the careers of a very narrow sliver of the performing artist population. This contributes to a very narrow concept of success, which is perpetuated by the ambition and naïveté of aspiring performing artists ourselves. As a 21-year-old singer, I didn’t know what opportunities existed for me after college, except for the shining stars at the end of the voice major path: opera singer or musical theatre star.

Immediately after graduation, I headed for New York City. But first I took a job as a resident performer at a commercial theater in Indiana. While performing nine shows a week, doing exactly what I thought I wanted to do, I became bored and discouraged about my choice of career. I learned that human relationships were more important to me than the job and that I craved more variety of activities.

So instead of New York, my husband and I chose a city we thought we would enjoy living in that did not feel so dominated by our career choice and decided to trust that we could find satisfying work there. We moved to Portland, Oregon, loved the city, and did indeed find multiple, diverse professional opportunities in the arts. Success!

Then a new goal emerged: we wanted to start a family.

We wanted our children to have the same extended family relationships we had growing up, so we packed up our belongings and confidence in our ability to find or make work in the arts, wherever we were, and relocated to a historic family farmhouse in Parker City, Indiana.

“What Are You Doing Here?”

I have heard this question many times, since relocating seven years ago, especially when talking to audience members after a performance. People, after paying their compliments to my singing, then want to know how I “ended up” in Indiana.

“I’m here because I choose to be. My husband and I moved here so our children could be near their grandparents,” I tell them.

After hearing my response, they still often make comments about how I “could be” performing elsewhere—Broadway or opera houses. I share this not to tout my own talent, but to illustrate how other people often view my life and what success should mean for me. The conversation often ends with a parting word about how they will watch for me when I’m famous or that they will be able to say “I knew her when. . . .”

What they’re really implying is that my tenure in this area, for the sake of family, is merely a diversion on my true path to success: fame. It’s very hard to explain to people that I can pursue my career here—that I don’t need to be famous to be good at what I do or to be satisfied with how I do it.

How Did I Get Here?

When someone asks, “Why here?” and I respond, “Family,” they then reply with something along the lines of how honorable or regrettable it is that I would sacrifice my career for my family. I’ve heard women talk about how they’ve sacrificed their careers for their family, but I don’t feel that way.

I have not pursued some opportunities that could have furthered my career, in a traditional sense, because I’m not willing to make the sacrifice of time with my kids. In other words, I’m not sacrificing something (a “better” career), but rather I’m choosing to not sacrifice something (hands-on parenting). Even knowing this, as a competitive person in a competitive field, I have fought an internal—and sometimes external—battle over what it is I “should” be doing.

How Did I Get Here from There?

I switched to music from a business degree while at college. I had always loved music but figured a business degree was a smarter choice. After two years of study, I couldn’t imagine spending 40 hours a week doing what I was learning to do. I stopped looking at the big picture, the smart choice, the answer to the question “What degree offers the wisest financial options?” and, instead, I looked at the details. I wanted to find the answer to the questions “How do I want to spend my days?” and “What do I want to do?” (something music related) rather than “What do I want to be?” (readily employable).

Working through this pivotal decision has informed my decision-making process for many major life and career choices since. It grew out of a simple matter of comparing and contrasting. When I have to decide between this or that, I list the benefits and drawbacks of both options. Then I prioritize what benefits are most important and which drawbacks are most undesirable.

To avoid becoming overwhelmed, I look at just a pair of things at a time. Do I want a stable income? Yes. Do I want it more than I don’t want to work in an office? No. I have seen a gut reaction that at first seems an illogical choice vindicated as the best option through this process. Little things matter. And when you discover which little things matter most to you, you define your value system and strengthen your ability to steer your best course through your own best life.

What Do I Really Want?

It’s easy to adopt others’ goals for you as your own. Your teachers, your family, your friends may all want the best for you—and may have definite ideas about what that means. I’ve found the following method very useful when trying to identify my true goals and values: I think about my ideal day. If I could do whatever I want tomorrow, anything at all, what would I do? How would I spend that one day?

I was thinking through this exercise during a long commute this summer. I was working a fairly hectic schedule—dropping kids off at grandma’s on my way to teach, then picking them up for supper and bedtime. So when I tried to envision my perfect day, I considered a spa, a performance with my idols, researching or rehearsing something I never have time for, writing—all things I occasionally long to do.

My honest answer, however, was “I want to spend the day playing outside at home with my kids.” Then I thought, “How boring you are!” And then I realized that that judgment was obviously not my own opinion, but one that reflects what I feel I am supposed to believe is important—that I shouldn’t sacrifice my career for anything, that I should put its pursuit above all else, and that I should want more for myself than motherhood. I had to decide once more that it was all right for me to put motherhood first, and that doing so doesn’t make me less dedicated to my career as an artist.

Go for It

What is success for you? Set goals. By all means, set them high. Decide what you really want. Don’t be shy. Tell yourself the truth—whether it’s quiet time, hard work, or lots of money. Figure out why you want it and what your daily life would look like once you got it. What details appeal to you?

If one of your goals includes singing at the Met, for example, you can readily find advice about how to approach this goal by devising weekly, monthly, and yearly steps you can take to move you closer to achieving that goal. That addresses the question of “How can I sing at the Met?” I encourage you also to examine the “Why?” Why do you want to sing at the Met? Is it because you want recognition of your talent and hard work by audiences? Will it bring respect? Do you want to be part of a great tradition? Is it the chance to work with the best artists? Is it the repertoire or production values or rehearsal schedule? Do you want to be in New York?

Understanding the answer to the “Why?” question will allow you to recognize opportunities that will serve to meet these desires as you move forward toward your “big picture” goals. And it will make your daily progress more enjoyable. Knowing specifically what it was that I wanted from my art freed me to pursue those activities that opened up new opportunities and goals that I didn’t even know existed.

Think about what it is that you want to do every day when you get out of bed, and then find ways to achieve some of the details. It may mean doing a variety of jobs to be a professional singer—or you may value financial security and opt for a day job that leaves your evenings and weekends free to rehearse and perform solo recitals or with a local opera or theatre company.

Don’t Wait to Live Your Life

In the words of fellow Canadian Ina D. Ogdon, from her 1913 hymn:

Do not wait until some deed of greatness you may do. Do not wait to shed your light afar.
To the many duties ever near you now be true. Brighten the corner where you are.

Here for all your talent you may surely find a need. Here reflect the bright and Morning Star.
Even from your humble hand the Bread of Life may feed. Brighten the corner where you are.

I live near my children’s relatives. I teach at a wonderful university. I have many opportunities to write, direct, choreograph, teach, and perform. I live on 30 acres across the road from llamas. What’s not to love?

I pursue my art here with the same passion, integrity, and commitment as I would in New York, Toronto, London, or Berlin. I love it and I love sharing it with people. Why should the residents of rural Indiana have any less access to dedicated, talented, professional performing artists than residents of other cities? I know I play to an equally appreciative crowd, who just happen to pay lower ticket prices.

There are such artists in every region. You can be one, and you can find others if you seek them out. I have worked with top-notch artisans, whose talents could rival some of the rest of the world’s best. And I have had the opportunity to work with them because they decided to opt for the smaller stage, for some other life-directing cause—and I am very grateful to have been blessed with their influence on my life and art. I feel quite certain that many of the opportunities I have enjoyed off the beaten path could never have been equaled were I following a more traditional or expected career path for the “performing artist.”

So, if you have decided to follow your heart back to your hometown or to a little village somewhere, or think you may like to give it a try, here’s my advice to you. Tell people what you do. Talk about your desire to perform, your favorite repertoire, your goals and aspirations. You will find kindred spirits—fellow artists, potential patrons, and audience members. Bring beauty to your community. Share your gifts. Whether you are performing for 4,000 or 400 or 40, each of those lives may be changed by the experience only you can provide them, and each person is worth your efforts.

In short, be proud of the title “local talent.”