Imposter Syndrome

The way out...

I just read a post by a friend,

Elena Greco

. In it she details her frustrations as a singer within the classical music industry. I relate to her experience of being told she was every voice classification under the sun. Which leaves one with a terrible dilemma of never really fitting in anywhere and, more importantly, wasting a whole lot of time and money trying to figure out just what type of singer you were meant to be. Elena has recently discovered cabaret singing, which has brought her a second life as a singer. I love that she’s doing this. (I am linking her full post below so you can read in more detail about that.)

What does this have to do with imposter syndrome? We’re getting there… I am a dramatic soprano voice type (in classical categorizing/”fach”). Like Elena, I also have been through the wringer in my journey to arrive at my most whole, authentic, expressive and free voice. Over the past 20 years or so of singing, in this pursuit, I also did a whole lot of studying. I studied voice formally in undergrad and grad school, and I did a ton of study on my own as well as under fabulous master mentors. I had a need to understand the voice. To “really” understand it. Because teacher after teacher could not help me fully integrate my vocal approach so that I could be fully present with my gifts.

I had many “big names” in the business tell me I had “world class potential” and "special.” But then I heard “the top of the voice is fabulous but the bottom doesn’t match”… “your vibrato is a tremolo”… “there’s a hole in the middle,” “you’re singing too loud, let’s strip it of all it’s color so you sing like a boy soprano”… “you’re pushing”… “now you’re flat way too much”… “you have a gorgeous, floaty top”… ff a few years later, “why can’t you sing that top softly”…. I mean, it was never ending. And yet, I managed to sing some roles, albeit with small blackbox companies, but I did sing a few. I even did some good work. I also sang a lot of cool concerts too. Many people reported that they felt I engaged well with them and that the loved the color of my voice. Still… I wasn’t breaking into the kind of work I wanted. And time went by and I got older. And I am still here, now studying with one of the utmost fabulous teachers I have ever had.

Susan Eichhorn Young

. Finally doing my most aligned and balanced singing. Except that now I feel like I am all dressed up with nowhere to go. The business is rather ageist.

Luckily, while I was soaking up years of vocal knowledge, I collected technical advice from a myriad of different teachers. Their vocal exercises, their thoughts about various aspects of singing, vocal hygiene tips, performance hacks and more. I have learned to sift through it all and have come to realizations about a number of things. For starters, with my own students, I know better than to try to push an agenda on them. I pick and choose exercises and methods which most resonate with the person before me. As we work, I am keenly aware of what’s helping them make progress and what seems to be interfering. We communicate. A lot. I want to know what they feel is helping and how, so that we can build off of that and not waste time on things that may not be taking us in the right direction. I have so many ways to approach the same issue that I can assign exercises that they will actually do. And I teach form and function as a basis. It’s a bit like choosing a workout routine. You need to choose exercises you actually will stick to. It won’t help if you find it impossible to do!!

But Celia, what does this have to do with Imposter Syndrome?

Well. It turns out that despite feeling quite accomplished and happy with the work I am doing now, both as a singer and as a voice teacher, I lurk in the shadows. I feel that I have no idea how to push forward. It’s not that I don’t try. I do. I’ve built an online presence and have been reworking my websites. But I often feel like I am wearing heavy boots walking through mud with no map. I am holding a precious gift that I want to unveil. I am being so very careful not to drop it. But mostly, I am in the mud, in the dark, with no way of knowing how to get the gift to its destination or even what the destination truly is.

I have a few students and I practice and work on music, and I have plans to put up some new videos and am trying to figure out how to get a recital series going. But to how, and to what end? I watch other people confidently yapping away on social media. Sharing their performance seasons or explaining why vowels are the way to teach singing and that teaching by resonance is “wrong.” Then the next video touts the exact opposite. They each have neat little references from such and such vocal expert. They are so bold because they have their DMA’s or they have done YAPs or sung major roles at Opera House A B and C. I don’t have all those impressive credentials. I was too busy hanging on for dear life running the shoeless marathon.

But as I sit there watching such videos, I know that they are both a little right and they’re both a little wrong. The problem is that they each are more interested in being “correct” than they are in serving their students. From my long experience, I know that chances are one student will do better focusing on vowels and vowel formation while another will do better being guided by a more tactile approach, which can include tracking their resonance. But, honestly, I just don’t have the strength or patience to argue with such people. Because I already feel that they’re staring down their noses at me.

Yet, I know my offerings hold value

Yes, perhaps I feel like I am traipsing through the mud in the dark. But my gift. The gift I carry is lovely. I know it has value. I know it because so many of the people I have worked with, years later, reach out to me to thank me for the work we have done. Many go off to sing then eventually come back and work with me again. I know that some people have come up to me after a performance rather moved, many times saying I have brought them to tears or moved them. Even when I wasn’t really doing my most clinically healthy singing. Because we shouldn’t be striving to only make perfect tones. The human voice is an instrument of wide ranging color. You can use it to bring out the truth of a piece. And that means sometimes your singing will not be its most “precious.” And that too is a gift.

Yet, I haven’t got a clue how to deal with these feelings of not having enough of the “right” credits to my name. And that’s why until this very post, my substack has been mostly poetry and non-music related posts. Because I have serious imposter syndrome and baring my soul about it seemed like a lot to lay bare. But now I have done it. Tell me about you. Do you have imposter syndrome despite knowing deep down that you ought not to?

Behind the Scenes: #26 Bringing a Song to Life