So I am a singer. The ‘classical’ type. A soprano, it is thought, although I may be a mezzo.

People ask me how it started. Many expect stories of how my parents pushing me, or singing before talking, or singing in choirs at church, or being from a musical family.

None of these stories are true for me.

The simple story is that one day, I started singing a song as a part of a class, and by the end of the song, I was the only one singing. Everyone stopped to listen to me. Suddenly, I had something that made me special. I was the girl who sang. I was in love with it, and devoted many of most of my time and energy to it. As a youth, I had no time to get in trouble – I was too busy singing.

Just before I left high school, that flame of love was snuffed out. But that is a story for another blog.

Ten years later, I started to sing again. It was not easy, but for some reason I kept at it, and I got better and better. Three years on, I am understudying a lead in a light opera. The journey is ongoing though. I can always get better, and it always takes work.

For some reason, people think singing is a glamorous art, but this is a very long way from the truth. The number of lessons I have dedicated to my tongue is large. It is very technical and looks quite weird to outsiders. But the outcome is pretty awesome.

The stories linked to this page are about singing and its various idiosyncrasies.