Every year we go through the same motions - planning auditions, making first day announcements, programming music. Here are a few ideas to start your choir's new year in a higher gear!
1. Commission and program new music. Having music written just for them helps a choir to bond and creates a very special connection to the music. Plus, who knows whether you'll be the one to commission the next Sing Me To Heaven!
2. Set goals for yourself. A few years ago for me, it was conduct entirely from memory. Last year it was to have rehearsals without lifting the piano lid. Whatever it is, consciously push yourself beyond your comfort zone.
3. Tell your students about those goals. If they know that you're pushing yourself to be better, they'll be inspired to do the same. Also, sharing your humanness with your students is a great way to connect with them. And it's a great way to stay accountable to your goals... "Mr. Scott, I thought you weren't going to use the piano so much!"
4. Be prepared to be flexible. When The Rockford Aces ended up with some unexpected down time in April and May last year, we didn't slow down...I created a plan to record a studio album, initiated major fundraising, and was able to have a CD Release in June! It wasn't in the plan in September, but I was ready to change direction when I had to.
5. Listen to something beautiful. Ideally, every day. But if you don't have time, please take some time over the long Labor Day weekend to hear something exquisite. Maybe now is a good time to try out Spotify. Fully-on, focused listening can be a total game-changer for me in my day-to-day mood and in my ability to set immediate and long-term goals for my ensemble.
6. Read something that challenges your thinking. Right now I'm reading Choral Charisma by Tom Carter. As a big-I Introvert, I'm loath to share myself the way Tom asks me to...but I am challenged to try his ideas in the hope of becoming a better choral educator. If they don't work forr me, I'm ready to try something else...but right now I'm excited to try!
7. Inbox to Zero. Archive what you need...delete what you don't. Be ruthless and quick. Starting with a clear email inbox will help you get through the digital and back into the musical for the rest of the year. Leo Babauta's ZenHabits.net has lots more great ideas on email maintenance and much more. If you aren't following this blog, start now.
I'm so excited to get back into the groove next week! Good luck as your own year starts.
What are you doing to jump start this school year? Use the comments below to share your thoughts!
Showing posts with label creative process. Show all posts
Showing posts with label creative process. Show all posts
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Friday, February 11, 2011
Permission to Start
I've been thinking lately about Lynda Barry's "The Two Questions." It's a short autobiographical comic about creativity, originally published in McSweeney's Issue #13. She writes about her desire to create and the struggles she constantly goes through, in particular with the two questions her inner censor is constantly asking: "Is this good?" and "Does this suck?" You can see a copy of the comic here.
I was struggling for the last few weeks to get started on a new project, particularly since I had completed all commissions, so the next thing I was going to write would be, officially, for myself. My art, not my job. Yes, I did think of it on those terms. And on those terms, it became increasingly difficult to start. Give me a deadline and an outline of what is needed and I can write 30 band charts in a snap; ask me to write whatever inspires me, and I might be staring at a blank page for days.
That's particularly demoralizing when the alarm goes off at 4:30 and you think you might have nothing to show for it at 6:30. Why am I even doing this?
Which is what brought me back to Lynda. Those are the questions we always ask ourselves when we create, aren't they? So how does she get past these questions? She doesn't think her way out. It's when she says "I don't know" that she can get past the "demons" asking these questions.
So I started an arrangement, not caring what it will sound like. Just put it down on paper (or screen) and worry about quality another day. It truly was like a switch turned on, allowing me to write. Anne Lamott in "Bird by Bird" call it a "sh***y first draft." Michael Chabon has written about just getting the words down on paper (and Chabon, a great writer and Pulitzer prize winner, has actually thrown away an entire BOOK and started over.) For me, Lynda's "I don't know" served as the inspiration to stop thinking and start doing.
So I'm pleased to say that I'm about 80% through my an arrangement. It's too fragile yet to say more, and I literally have no idea if it'll be worth singing at the conclusion. But I'm writing it.
One more thing. Lynda seems to be tracing a particular creative block in her comic, but after she has her "I don't know" breakthrough, she admits that she "has no memory of having solved this problem before," and has "no idea she'll have to solve it again and again." Yeah, that sounds about right.
"To be able to stand not knowing long enough to let something alive take shape! Without the two questions so much is possible."
I was struggling for the last few weeks to get started on a new project, particularly since I had completed all commissions, so the next thing I was going to write would be, officially, for myself. My art, not my job. Yes, I did think of it on those terms. And on those terms, it became increasingly difficult to start. Give me a deadline and an outline of what is needed and I can write 30 band charts in a snap; ask me to write whatever inspires me, and I might be staring at a blank page for days.
That's particularly demoralizing when the alarm goes off at 4:30 and you think you might have nothing to show for it at 6:30. Why am I even doing this?
Which is what brought me back to Lynda. Those are the questions we always ask ourselves when we create, aren't they? So how does she get past these questions? She doesn't think her way out. It's when she says "I don't know" that she can get past the "demons" asking these questions.
So I started an arrangement, not caring what it will sound like. Just put it down on paper (or screen) and worry about quality another day. It truly was like a switch turned on, allowing me to write. Anne Lamott in "Bird by Bird" call it a "sh***y first draft." Michael Chabon has written about just getting the words down on paper (and Chabon, a great writer and Pulitzer prize winner, has actually thrown away an entire BOOK and started over.) For me, Lynda's "I don't know" served as the inspiration to stop thinking and start doing.
So I'm pleased to say that I'm about 80% through my an arrangement. It's too fragile yet to say more, and I literally have no idea if it'll be worth singing at the conclusion. But I'm writing it.
One more thing. Lynda seems to be tracing a particular creative block in her comic, but after she has her "I don't know" breakthrough, she admits that she "has no memory of having solved this problem before," and has "no idea she'll have to solve it again and again." Yeah, that sounds about right.
"To be able to stand not knowing long enough to let something alive take shape! Without the two questions so much is possible."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)