09/19/2022
Now that I've had a few days' perspective on the debut of the first scene of Twelfth Night as part of this year's Rochester Fringe Festival, I do have to say that both debuting an operatic work and being part of the Fringe Festival were interesting experiences.
This was not my first time participating in the Fringe Festival. I have sung in a few productions in prior years, and it had occurred to me that at some point I might want to put together a concert of my music for the festival. When I started writing Twelfth Night, it occurred to me that the Fringe Festival might be a good place to test it out, and that idea was confirmed when I started showing the music to singers who made the same suggestion. So, I thought it was a good fit when I applied to the Fringe Festival. Fortunately, so did the people at MuCCC, and a performance was scheduled.
I've been performing in operas, either in the chorus or as a lead, since the fall of 1980 (juryman in Trial by Jury at Oberlin), so as a composer I had a good sense of the musical form, although operatic form has changed and developed quite a bit over the centuries since it's been in existence. And while I had a lot of performing experience, I had very little production experience, and needed to learn a lot about that aspect of putting a show together. Some of it came easily - casting, for instance, I had good contacts who had good suggestions for filling out roles, and I had a good idea of who I wanted in the chorus. Other parts came less easily - PR for instance, which I was only too happy to hire out to someone who did a bang up job on it. To be honest, I'm glad I learned what I didn't know. It may come in handy in the future...
The most interesting aspect of this for me was that I noticed that it gave me a very pronounced case of imposter syndrome. For those unfamiliar with the term, it basically means that no matter how accomplished you actually are, you fear that someone will expose you as a fraud - or as I put it to my husband, composition teacher, and several close friends, I was afraid that someone was going to come along, point at me, and shout, "You don't know what the f*ck you're doing! Stop wasting everyone's time and go home!" There is a somewhat logical reason for this: when you put yourself forward in a situation like this, people assume you know what you're doing, and that applies to every aspect of the process. And it's quite embarrassing to find out that you forgot or didn't think about some detail, especially if it becomes important. So I was putting a lot of pressure on myself, which was quite stressful.
It was also quite unnecessary. My cast couldn't have been more helpful and supportive (not to mention awesomely prepared from the first rehearsal). My composition teacher was extremely supportive, pointing out that this is a case where you learn by doing, and the Fringe Festival gives you the perfect opportunity for doing just that, as well as verifying the quality of the work, along with the friends I confided my fears to. My husband, with his years of directorial experience, was an unfailing source of support and help in making sure everything that needed to be taken care of actually was. After giving it some contemplation, I came to realize that I wasn't really worried about the quality of the music - I have a fairly high amount of confidence in what I compose - so much as I was the quality of my own performance of it, which is something that has always dogged me as a performer. In the end, everything went pretty smoothly, and the performance went very well. All in all, an auspicious beginning as an operatic composer.
Once again, let me express my gratitude to all involved with Twelfth Night. It was an amazing experience, and it is one that I will build on as I finish writing the opera, which has been a lot of fun, and really that is first and foremost what it should be all about. In the words of my teacher and my lead soprano: Onward!
