I used be a really good violist. I have a master’s degree in Viola Performance from a prestigious conservatory. I even won a coveted fellowship to Aspen Music Festival, one of the best summer music festivals in the country. Aspen only gives ten of these per year (hundreds audition) and the award for the fellowship is three tuition-paid summers in a row. I didn’t go the third year because I was too busy being married, taking care of my new dog, and working at the local women’s fitness center. I know; it doesn’t make sense to me either.
I began playing viola in middle school when I was eleven, which is late; most pros began lessons at age five or six, some as early as two. It’s also unusual that I started on viola, and not violin. Every kid should play violin first, because its smaller size facilitates the acquisition of proper technique.
I lacked adequate instruction those first few critical years. My middle-school teacher was a choral director. But with her humble assistance, I somehow ended up auditioning and being admitted to the local performing arts high school. It was there that people first told me I was talented, that I could ‘do something’ with viola. So began my dreams of being a professional violist. I saw visions of myself playing in the New York Philharmonic and being a trendy city-dweller.
Being a serious classical musician is a lot like being an Olympic gymnast, except you can still be fat. At the performing arts school, I heard rumors that people who were really dedicated would practice for hours on end, sometimes up to six hours per day. They practiced so much they would get hickeys. Not real hickeys, obviously, it’s not like the instrument sucks your neck; but it really does look like a hickey under the left side of the jaw, where the instrument chafes the skin. Anyway. I made it my goal to one day practice six hours per day, so that I too could have a viola-hickey. Besides, I knew that with my late start, I had some catching up to do.
I practiced as much as any boy-crazy, beach-bum high-school girl is inclined to practice (not much, in case you can’t read between the lines there – I spent way more time feeling guilty about not practicing than actually practicing), and managed to eke out a meager scholarship to Florida State University. I thought I was big-time when I got to FSU. After all, I was the best in my high school, the best in the county, principal violist in the local youth symphony. I imagined wowing the professors with my playing and securing the principal viola position in the orchestra. Well, my audition sucked and I wound up last chair. Dead last… As in, the worst violist in the university.
Goodbye, misplaced confidence! HELLO performance anxiety! Many know the fear of speaking in front of an audience; that’s what performance anxiety is like, accept I think it might be worse. After all, a musician’s whole goal is to play as beautifully as possible, and the symptoms of performance anxiety – racing heart beat, trembling, sweating, and completely losing control of your mental faculties – kind of puts a damper on that little endeavor. Out of all my performances at FSU, I think I was satisfied with maybe two, because my nerves were so bad I blew practically every performance.
In spite of my new affliction, by the time I had finished FSU I had managed to garner some respect for my playing. The community there was a robust, big-hearted, encouraging group, and they believed, and had me believing, that success was directly proportional to persistence.
By the time I graduated FSU I was practicing four to five hours per day, and that effort won me a full scholarship to the Cincinnati College-Conservatory of Music (CCM). It was there that my playing rose to a whole new level. My professors literally broke me down and started me from scratch. (As in: ‘Here’s how you put your finger on the string.’) It was worth it; they knew what they were doing.
But it was also at CCM that I first experienced wildy-brazen musical snobbery. Many of the people there weren’t just good; they were prodigies. And those who weren’t prodigies wanted to give the appearance of being so. Gone was the open encouragement and bragging about how many hours one had practiced. Gone were the discussions about how difficult such-and-such a piece of music was. Gone were the admissions that one was struggling to be better. (Gone were any hopes of my overcoming my performance anxiety.)
At CCM it was almost taboo to admit you practiced a lot. It was like everyone wanted people to believe they were awesome… just because. Like, with no effort at all. People gossiped. Who was good, who ‘sucked’? (That awful word was thrown around a lot.) Who was a virtuoso, versus – God forbid – someone who only got good by practicing six hours per day? Busting one’s ass didn’t have a whole lot of merit anymore.
When I won the Aspen Fellowship that first year, everyone was surprised, even my professor. Her eyes almost bugged right out of her head when I told her; she was genuinely astonished! Which in one way was a buzz-kill, because I had thought maybe she had ‘seen something’ in me, and put in a good word for me with the audition committee, since she was on the staff at Aspen Music Festival. In another way, it was kind of kick-ass to know I had won the fellowship of my own accord, that the six hours per day of practicing weren’t for naught. After all, no one else was showing up at the practice rooms at eight in the morning and leaving at ten o’clock at night, only coming out for classes, rehearsals, and meals.
The second year I attended Aspen I was having a seemingly innocuous conversation about a recent solo performance of mine with another violist friend from CCM. She told me, “I thought you played the 3rd movement of that concerto AMAZINGLY. I don’t care what people say; you totally deserve the fellowship.”
Aaaannnnd …there it was. Many times I had thought others were more deserving of the fellowship than I was. Many times I had suspected that everyone agreed with my silent insecurities. My friend unknowingly confirmed all my worst fears; that people really were saying that I didn’t deserve my prestigious fellowship.
I don’t know why I couldn’t tell myself that it didn’t matter what the other students said; that maybe they were just being jealous and spiteful. It should have only mattered that the audition panel thought I was good enough. But I couldn’t make myself think positively. That week I had an emotional break-down in my lesson. I was full-fledged snotting and sobbing about how I didn’t deserve to be at Aspen. I think my exact words were “What am I DOING here? WHY did they pick me? Am I even good?” My poor teacher tried to console me; I don’t even remember what she said. I’m sure she was thinking “Dear God, why don’t they just let me pick the fellowship winners so they don’t accidentally let in the crazies???”
I couldn’t ever get my mind right after that. I couldn’t even think of performing without getting heart palpitations. ‘What if they think I suck? What if I mess up an easy part? What if I drop my bow? What if I play my absolute best and they still think I suck?’ My inner-voice was a miserable, down-trodden hag. I avoided performing as much as possible.
Okay, wow. I just remembered, after all these years, the real reason I didn’t go back to Aspen that third year. It’s because… I was afraid. Oh God, I want to cry now. After my husband got his first job, we moved to a little town in Michigan, and I got a job working at a gym. When it came time for Aspen, I hadn’t practiced a lick. I was afraid I would be so out-of-practice that I wouldn’t be able to ‘keep up’ with all those players who were ‘better than’ I was. I felt like even if I went back to practicing six hours per day it wouldn’t be enough. I didn’t want to experience the heart-palpitations anymore.
That was eight years ago.
Now for the past year I’ve been subbing with a local orchestra whenever they need an extra violist. They are happy to play music – you can feel it. It’s not about who is better than whom or monotonous gigging drudgery. I love playing with them. This weekend we performed the Rachmaninoff Symphony No. 2. – a symphony which is a psycho-bitch of a piece to play, any string player will concur.
For some reason, they assigned me to sit principal (that means I’m the ‘leader’ of the viola section). I was on vacation right before we began rehearsal so I only had a couple of days to practice. Even though I practiced for six hours the day before the first rehearsal, and five hours the day ofthe first rehearsal, I still didn’t get the piece under my fingers the way I normally do.
Sitting principal at that first rehearsal brought back my long-buried feelings of inadequacy. I was missing a TON of notes. My heart was racing. I was sweating in weird places. I heard the woman behind me let loose a couple of exasperated sighs, seemingly at my expense (boob sweat.) She tapped me on the shoulder several times questioning my method of playing certain passages (butt sweat.)
What was her problem? Was she really playing this God-awfully-difficult symphony perfectly? I might not be the best violist in the world, but I know damn well I’m significantly better than average. So if I’m having trouble, she must be having at least a little trouble, too. Why did she have to act like such a passive-aggressive snob? It was CCM all over again.
At the end of the rehearsal the frustrated violist asked me if she could take my part home with her so she could copy some of my markings into her part. I wouldn’t let her, though; I told her I needed to practice. Her indignation at my refusal was baffling. I posted a snarky comment on Facebook at her expense, knowing she would never see it, and it made me feel modestly better.
I got home at ten-thirty the night of the first rehearsal, and listened to the hour-long symphony on YouTube while studying my music. Honestly, it’s so freakin fast I could barely keep up with my part just listening to the damn thing. I woke up early the next morning and practiced an hour and a half before the morning dress rehearsal. That rehearsal went moderately better, thanks to my practice. My back was killing me. I felt like I could barely sit up straight. My two-year-old was begging me to ‘stop playing violin.’ But the concert was that night; I squeezed out a couple more hours of practice between the dress rehearsal and performance.
I wish I could give you the warm fuzzies by telling you I rocked the shit out of that concert, but the reality is I performed mediocre at best. It wasn’t just me, though (thank God); at one point the winds were totally lost. Not so lost that the entire audience would notice (though some aficionados would) but pretty fucking lost nonetheless. I thought the conductor’s head was going to explode right off of his neck and make a huge mess all over our pretty instruments. Strangely enough, at that point, I was chugging along quite nicely and smugly wondering what the hell was wrong with everybody else. My pride was quickly shot to pieces moments later when I got so lost I had to stare at the music for a few moments in muddled wonder. Can you say ‘embarrassing’???
We had a matinee performance the next day, and of course I practiced extra for that, too. My spine was feeling like it was about to start spitting vertebrae at innocent by-standers, and my finger pads were painfully bruised. I even started to regain my old hickey. But I was determined not to get lost again during the final performance.
Before the concert, I overheard my self-esteem nemesis (the ‘exasperated sigh’ lady) bemoaning to someone else about how difficult the symphony was, saying it was ‘way over her head.’ It was then that I realized her annoying passive-aggressive sighs had nothing to do with me! She was frustrated with herself! Not me!
I experienced what Oprah calls ‘An Aha! Moment.’ Here’s what I realized: My inner-voice is so demeaning and critical that I project the voice onto those around me, assuming everyone else thinks I suck as much as I think I suck. All these years, that’s what I’ve been doing! But can you blame me? After all, sometimes I was right! Remember Aspen? I’m only being realistic, right? But I wonder, if all the time I was in school worrying about what everyone else thought, if I had had more confidence in myself, how might things have been different for me, when it came to my music?
I played the matinee concert much better than the first one. As we put away our music, one of the other violists sitting behind me tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Hey, I just have to say you did a great job. It’s a very difficult piece to play, and even more difficult to lead, and I think you did awesome.”
Swear to God, I almost teared up.
So, was it worth it? All that agony and anxiety to get one really great compliment? Could I ever be a full-time professional musician, always subject to others’ and my own criticism? Could I get used to the stress? The heart-palpitations? The aching spine?
I don’t know. But I do know this experience is causing me to reassess how I define confidence. I used to think confidence was all about believing you’re the best; but now I’m thinking it’s about believing you’re good enough. There is a very important distinction between the two. Being ‘the best’ means there’s always someone nipping at your heels, waiting to shove you off of your podium. Or maybe you’re not ‘the best,’ but you spend all your time trying to be, which means that you’re the one doing the heel-nipping. Either way, it’s a lot of undue stress. Being ‘good enough’ is neither here nor there. It’s neutral, free from pride and vanity.
In spite of my near-debilitating performance anxiety, I still want to keep playing. I know I have something that others wish they had: The ability to make music, to have music actually emanate from my being. I can see notes on a page, and they mean something to me, almost like a different language. It’s kind of crazy, really… and kind of cool.
Wait. At the beginning of this piece, did I say I ‘used to be’ a good violist? Is that the title??? That’s ridiculous; of course I’m still a good violist. No snobby critic can take that away from me.
Even if that snobby critic is me.
…I’m good enough. I’m good enough. I’m good enough.
29 Comments
nice piece Kristen! Remembering our middle school orchestra days. You were always great and I never cared about playing. It’s funny that you mention a viola hickey. In high school, when I received my first hickey from a boy my mom flipped when she saw me…”what is that on your neck!”, quickly I lied telling her that I was practicing my violin (thank goodness it was in the perfect spot). Somehow she bought the story, probably just to make herself feel better. The only good thing to come from my attempts to play the violin!
Thanks, Amanda! That hickey story is hilarious!!!
How inspiring! I always knew u had bad anxiety, but sheesh! Poor mom was always nerve wracked for you too. In fact I remember an audition you had and mom bein sooo nervous…. Bc YOU had so much anxiety.
Yeah, it was pretty bad. I originally started the post (almost called it) ‘why I’m not a professional musician’ – because that’s how painful it is. :-/ Some people thrive on performance jitters, and just can’t enough. Nope. Not me! LOL
I always thought you were fantastic with your music. You always worked so very hard and deserved all that you achieved. Kassie is right about my anxiety due to your anxiety. I would be a nervous wreck. I am very happy that you have finally came to the conclusion that you are a very good violist and that you now truly enjoy playing!!!
Gee mom, I wonder where I got my propensity for anxiety from… ?? 🙂
You know when you read something and you want to blather on about how you heard yourself in each sentence, and how you’re continually surprised by how connected we are—even strangers—and how you’re just so thankful for the quiet moments that make you feel less alone? Yeah. That. Thanks.
Damn. I think I have something in my eye… *shakes head and blinks*
xoxo
Hey, sorry to leave another comment, but I couldn’t find another way to contact you. I have a blog project that I’m starting tomorrow and I’d LOVE for you to be involved. Shoot me an email at [email protected] if you’re interested. I’m super excited.
I always relate well to your posts but this one really resonates with me. I was groomed from a very young age (like 2 or 3) to become a dancer. My mother was a dancer and she had high hopes for me. I spent the majority of my childhood in the studio and eventually became the youngest person accepted into a somewhat prestigious dance company. I was riddled with anxiety and convinced everyone thought I sucked. Maybe they did…I don’t know, but I was more likely just my extremely critical inner voice. I had stomach ulcers by the time I was 13. I felt somehow undeserving of every award I won and like I’d somehow tricked people every time I had a successful audition. Anyway, it all came to an end when I was around 21 and my body started to break down with stress fractures and osteoarthritis. I mostly just felt relief.
Thanks again for another wonderful post. You continually make me feel just a little less weird. Keep’em coming!
Thanks, J. The responses I’ve been getting have been doing wonders to make ME feel less weird as well. Much love…
I can relate to this–I used to play the flute and so did my sister. She was amazing and pursued a career in music but it all fell apart when she got married, had kids, etc. I don’t really miss playing but I know she does–life just got too busy. She tried to pick it back up but had lost so much by that time, she finally gave it up. I think it’s great that you are still playing. It shouldn’t be about the competition—it should be about the personal joy it brings YOU and your audience. Don’t ever listen to those negative, inner voices.
Funny you mentioned attending FSU—my son graduated a year ago from there with a music education degree. Tried to find a music teaching position down here but nothing was available, and now he works in retail. Sad. But I love that campus–great learning atmosphere and some AMAZING musicians. I know how tough that program is—my son used to sweat thru those music juries despite having a beautiful voice. He still lives in Tally and we visit often—I just love that town!!! Thanks for sharing this blog post–you did a great job!
Your son shouldn’t give up! There is a high turn-over rate for music teachers. If he keeps an eye out he will find something! 🙂 I would probably teach if I had training in education, or if I could at least play piano, which I consider necessary for teaching a classroom. 🙂 Best of luck to your son!
Though I can’t play a note on any instrument, I so related to your struggles and LOVED your aha moment! I also have an uber critical inner voice that I project onto the world. It is freeing to realize this and oh so painful to think about how I’ve tortured myself with what other people think of me. Ugh. A big hug to you for being so very brave and walking through your fear and anxiety! Inspiring! And some seriously great writing, too!
Thank you for pointing that out about ‘walking through my fear’ – I hadn’t thought of it that way, but you’re right, that is EXACTLY what I did! (Though I have to admit there were several times when I wanted to say “Hey, anyone else wanna sit principal? I’ll sit in the back!”)
Thanks for reading/commenting – you know how bloggers live for comments! 😉
This is such a great post. I can relate to this by way of public speaking. I am a lawyer so public speaking should come easily to me, but it doesn’t. I was fine until law school, and then the first year, we were forced to participate in a moot court competition and I did so badly, I thought I’d never get over it. And maybe I would have but my second year, I had a professor absolutely humiliate me in a class when I was trying to answer questions. So badly that it was the talk of the law school, and the counselor I was seeing on the main campus said he heard it about it from another counselor who also had a law student client. I tried to realize that clearly, if students were discussing it that much, then it wasn’t just me, the professor was out of line. I graduated from law school with honors but I couldn’t brush those things off and any type of speaking, even if it was just me and a few people, was utter hell and I was convinced the entire time I was speaking that everyone was thinking what an idiot I was and that I wasn’t doing well. I gave up on the idea of ever pursuing litigation or any area that might involve having to assert a position verbally. Luckily, I am a decent writer so I went that route in legal practice.
But outside of that, I’ve always known I could do anything I set my mind to. I wonder how differnt my career might have been if I’d had that same attitude about public speaking.
Now, I’m trying to get out of legal practice so it’s not really something I want to pursue but still, I wonder how I might have done.
Good for you for continuing to play and finding your love for music again!
I find it so interesting that you say you can ‘do anything you put your mind to’ EXCEPT for public speaking… because that’s how I am with the performance anxiety; it’s just that one thing that turns me to a puddle of nerves! I actually enjoy speaking in front of people, and I used to love performing in high school in other genres, like singing or dancing. I always joke that I identified the thing that was most difficult for me, and chose THAT as my career path! I guess I’m a ‘road less traveled’ kind of gal! Sounds like you might be, too… 😉
Nice Blog post. At first I was concerned that it was a bit long, but once I delved into it I realized that I needed to read this and got sucked into it. I have always thought my worst critic is of course myself. I am a amateur musician (did not got to any great music schools or anything like that). Been singing since I was a kid and had an experience in college while attending university to get my degree in vocal performance that knocked the wind out of me big time. Was a hero in high school, and a zero in college. It was too much for me – did one semester and then dropped out.
I still sing and play guitar, but now I do it for me. I am actually at a point now where it has become something I do for fun, and I mess up a lot. I am generally unpracticed and I can still make it through most of the songs I play without too many others noticing my mistakes. I could write about this all night. Thanks for posting this and reminding me that I have to give myself a break once in awhile and just love the music and the fact that I can play and sing it.
That’s right, John – it’s supposed to be fun! Thanks so much for taking the time to read… I know it’s a long post, but there was just no other way to tell it!
Keep playing your music… 🙂
Poignant, powerful! You speak to the heart of our society that is so bent upon criticism and back-stabbing and one-upmanship. And how it effects who we are and even what we convince ourselves we are not. I am not a musician like you but I am even right now in the midst of that same situation where all around, every day, there abide the criticial ones. It does take its toll. Thank you for allowing me to rise above and see “beyond.”
Thank you for this beautiful comment. I’m sorry I didn’t respond before… don’t know how I missed it! =/
I don’t know how many 23-year-old single hetero males are in your readership, but you’ve got at least one now. I went to look up “Birthdays are stupid” on google and your blog was somewhere on the first page. I started reading and took an instant warming to your writing voice. Birthdays are stupid, says half my mind, while the other half will lave in the Facebook wishes I’ll definitely be amassing over this Sunday. I blame duality for that one.
Anyway I read this post at random next and thought it to be just too spot on, as I too have been handicapped by p.a. and plenty of self-deprecation). The confidence revelation is CRUCIAL, and I will definitely be thinking about the distinction you made between “best” and “good enough.”
I look forward to more of your posts.
Wow! Thank you so much for your kind words! Comments like this really mean a lot to me! =)
Happy birthday!
Hey I know this is like a year technically two since this has been written. But, I am 14 years old (freshmen) and I’ve been play since I was 10 (5th grade). I didn’t play in seventh grade and It really hurt me bad. I started again in eighth and got first place in both. But, I’m not good I know all the notes and for somehow It’s not working for me. I am last chair and I have a challenge tomorrow that I will hopefully win. I was hoping if you could give me any advice for my future playing the Viola. That would mean a lot! Thank you and Have a great day!
Find a good teacher and take lessons, even if you can only afford to do every other week for a half hour. One-on-one with an expert is critical. Practice every day. 20 minutes every day is better than 2 hours on two separate days. Practice slowly. VERY VERY SLOWLY (but with proper technique, which is why you need a teacher to monitor you).
Listen to as much violin/viola music as you can. Go to YouTube and search: Hilary Hahn, Sarah Chang, Itzhak Perlman, yehudi menuhin, Jascha Heifetz, Anne-Sophie Mutter, american string quartet, Juilliard string quartet, and music by Bach, Mozart, Beethoven,Mendelssohn, Brahms, Tchaikovsky, Mahler, Ravel, Debussy, Copland.
Check out this website: violinmasterclass.com
Most importantly? Never make music about “winning.” Make it about playing music to the best of YOUR ability.
I love this post…I play viola since I was 10. I studied business administration because I got affraid of my future as a musician… Now I have my business administration degree but I love music and practice every day viola, I really regret not studying music. I`m wondering if you honestly consider that is too late (22 years) to get my degree in music… thank you for your answer
Pd.Sorry for my english.Greetings from from Colombia
Honestly, it depends on how good you already are. They say it takes 10,000 hours of practice to truly master something. Are you anywhere close to that? Take a lesson with a professor from the nearest university and ask their opinion. They will be honest. =)
I can relate to you so much it’s actually kind of weird… I started playing Viola in 6th grade… My first couple years I didn’t really understand or try but after having lessons for a couple years I’ve improved a lot and have developed a passion for music .. It would be so cool to play proffesionally but I hope I’m not too behind but I guess I need to work with what I have ! wow I didn’t think that places like CCM were full of prodigys like that, do they even need to study music their so good?? Anyways this post has been interesting to me, it’s so true it takes so much (physically, emotionally, mentally, like everything lol) to play music. This sounds weird but I have found that playing in front of the mirror has made me a much more confident player because I can make sure I look cofident while I play and that makes me more confident! Anyways best of luck to u and thanks!
Oh, even prodigies have to study their music a LOT. It is true what they say, that success is 90% hard work, 10% talent. 🙂