My post today for Small Winged Musings is about introversion. Has anyone read Quiet by Susan Cain? It’s an amazing deep dive into the rise of extraversion and, coincidentally, the rise of the pharmaceutical industry at the same time. I read it a long time ago, and it definitely helped me feel less bad about who I am naturally.
It’s weird that I’m in the industry I’m in, given the way people view performers. My mom says I chose a field of work that was the least suited to me and that allowed me to grow the most by way of brute force. A lot of folks assume that anyone on stage must be a natural extrovert, but there are many examples of artists who are actually quite introverted. In fact, it takes an original artist tens of thousands of hours of writing, arranging, and practising to be ready to perform. All people see is that time on stage, so they assume the person standing there loves the spotlight. I’ve learned to be extroverted on stage, and it’s really for the love of communication. I’m trying to communicate something in my writing and on stage, just like any other working artist.
But being someone who is drained by social environments isn’t always a great fit. A lot of my work and family time centres around other people, so I end up constantly depleted. Right now there’s an added layer, as I’m recovering from a hysterectomy, but honestly, I’ve always been this way.
Lately I’ve been a little more willing to tell people how difficult I find being on stage. I tended in the past to hold that close, because people have ideas about how artists should be. I’ve seen the sadness on people’s faces when I tell them what’s really going on for the industry or for me, how draining it is, how misogynistic and racist, how exhausted I am from it all, how sick I get before and after being on stage.
Part of the problem is that most people don’t consider art to be work. Someone who comes home from a long shift isn’t expected to have loved every minute of it and they’re easily understood when they talk about needing rest. But because music is a coveted industry, a lot of people don’t see it as a job, they see it as fanciful because of the attachment to fame or visibility. And because so many people want fame or visibility, or at least internet fame, they assume everyone must want that too.
In my case, I genuinely love making music. I love creating melodies, tracking music, making beats, arranging songs. I love that work so much I can barely put it into words. I’m so grateful for 30 years in this business, even if the last 10 have been marked by layered grief and injury. I’d even venture to say that all work is good work in the sense that it challenges us to improve, and if we’re sinking our teeth into something meaningful, we’re hopefully building internal strength along the way. Making music feels like that to me. It’s good work, meaningful work, especially knowing how deeply music touches people. I love contributing to that pool of beauty.
For my new album coming out this fall, I’m not sure how many shows, if any, will take place. Not just because I’m older and have been through a lot this past decade, but because brain injury, the loss of my brother and father, targeted harassment, and recovery from my accident have all taken so much from me. I know I’m not alone in feeling exhausted by life. And if I can summon the energy to be around people, I will, for you, for my listeners, for my nieces and nephews, and for art.
All you introverts out there, how do you make it work?
AKS
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