Hi Tina,
I can commiserate with your dilemma and have lots of thoughts running
through my head about this.
I met a lot of resistance to getting booked in my local series for the
year after I went to Pinewoods, although they had actually sent me to
Callers Week. (They said they had never heard me call, yet were never
in town when I called in the area.) It was hard to get what felt like
dubious and disparaging remarks about my capability when they had not
even heard me!
An additional problem was my being occasionally too ambitious,
programming beyond my ability. One organizer gave me a half dance and
loved me, but when I called a full dance, I belabored the teaching of
a complicated evening, and she gave me some very sharp remarks about -
We don't want a whole evening of complicated dances; we just want to
dance. A good lesson in taking criticism, not overloading the
evening, AND sharpening up my teaching.
Several things helped me adjust and gain more experience.
I started contacting organizers and especially dance-bookers for
dances within a 1-4 hour drive radius of me. I'd look at online
schedules and look for openings. I'd "cold-call" email them,
introducing myself, acknowledging that I was fairly new but mentioning
a couple of my strengths and some of my recent gigs, then specifically
asking to be considered as a caller for one of their dances. If there
was a particular dance slot I was interested in, I'd mention that
too. Sometimes, they'd ignore me, but most often, they would say
"that's booked" and then contact me for another slot later.
Mentioning that I'd gone through Lisa Greenleaf's Caller's Course
never hurt! Some series are just very leery of booking unknowns.
And sometimes a new booker had no idea I existed, so I had to do it
all over again.
So based on my experience, the first thing I'd advise is to expand
your range of potential gigs. Experience is experience even if you
have to drive to get there. Also, as one friend said, It's amazing
how much more talented you become when you come from 100 miles away!
Looking back, I can see that I did a number of things to maximize
those experiences.
Before a gig, I'd email the booker or whoever I could get ahold of
(dancers, other callers) and ask some questions about the dance
community: Experience level or "mix" of dancers I might expect,
numbers, hall quirks, whether they were open to other dance
formations, any dancer expectations, etc. I'd encourage them to share
anything they thought might help me get a feel for their dancers.
Sometimes they don't give you much, but it's all good. I learned that
organizers sometimes overstate/understate their dancers' abilities.
Don't forget to say that you need a place to stay after the dance if
you do! At times, I'd even drive there to *dance* before I called
there to get a feel for the place.
When I first arrived to call a dance, I'd try to locate the organizer
(or person in charge), introduce myself the the sound crew and
musicians and clarify signals and preferences. All this helped to keep
lines of communication open.
I also started writing up the anticipated program for myself and the
band with each dance's alternates and characteristics (e.g. punctuated
A, swirly B, or no balances except a dramatic moment at the top of
B1), so we could plan ahead better. Some bands love this, others are
very "meh" about it, but I found it works for me and often fosters a
more collaborative atmosphere with the band.
Then during the dance (or during the break), I'd check in with the
organizers/dancers/musicians. I ask the organizer if the dance length
feels right, if the level of dances is working for the crowd. (I
don't necessarily grill them, just check in!) I ask the *musicians* if
the set length feels good to them. I give the musicians feedback if I
thought a tune set or tempo worked particularly well. I apologize if
I messed something up.
One reason for checking it is that if there is a mismatch in
expectations, sometimes you can set it right before you finish the
evening. For instance, if someone thinks the dances are a little too
complicated/long or if the tempo is too slow/fast, it's easier to
adjust then and there rather than the following month.
After the dance, I thank the organizer for having me call for them
(even if things went poorly), acknowledge things I need to work on and/
or things that went well (usually if they have offered that info), and
say that I hope they'll have me back. I also like to spread
appreciation to anybody who contributed. Give the musicians and sound
crew some love.
I have found that being open to feedback can be especially valuable,
not only for myself as a caller, but so that dancers, etc al feel they
are being heard. Some people are all too eager to tell you
everything that you did wrong, but some people don't want to say
anything even if you have been annoying them in some way, so sincere,
constructive advice or feedback can be rare. Appreciate those people
who give it. :) I have also learned a tremendous amount from
recording my gigs. It's been sometimes painful, but wonderfully
instructive!
After a gig, I'd typically write up my notes about the evening, what I
tried, what went well, or didn't, ideas for what I might try next
time, etc. I also pick over my program and see where program
sequences went well or could have gone better. For that matter, I
think abut how communication went with various people. I've made
some major glitches at times, and it's always useful to reflect on
what I've learned.
Oh, and if I knew there were organizers in the crowd who might be
checking me out, I learned to tend toward a solid program of dances I
knew well rather than flashier, fancier things. Okay, maybe one. :)
Another thing that helped my teaching/experience was regularly
teaching the beginners workshop for a local dance. That gave me lots
of opportunity to try different ways/methods/sequences of teaching the
basics within a certain time period. Any non-standard gig can also be
a valuable learning experience. For that matter, any time you know
you will be traveling, see ahead of time if the local dance wants a
visiting caller. Sometimes that works out, sometimes not.
Also, as other people have mentioned, open-mic dances or house dances
can be a great way to get more experience. Some dance weekends have an
open calling session, so take advantage of that whenever you can!
It still took a long time for me to gain experience and become better
known. ... After a while, local people started hearing that I was
calling other places... Eventually, they were willing to give me more
chances. Even the first gig was just a beginning step. And
sometimes, I still have to remind bookers that I exist and that I'm
interested in calling for their series. Still breaking in to new area.
Traveling some is not a bad way to go. Here, we have 20+ callers in
the same area (and more up-and coming!), so if I didn't travel at
least a bit, I'd not call much at all. I enjoy the different flavors
of dancers and communities I get to work with, and the challenge of
putting together a good program for each.
So that's my 10 cents! Hope there's something useful for you. :)
Good luck!
Joy Greenwolfe
Durham, NC
On Aug 18, 2008, at 2:25 AM, Tina Fields wrote:
Hi folks –
I seem to have hit an interesting wall in my newish calling
career, and would love to know your thoughts and strategies
about how best to deal with it. I’ve been calling contra
for two years, the first year learning through guest spots,
classes, and half-dances. Since last November I’ve called
full dances, averaging 2-3 dances/month, mostly contras
with a few barn dances.
My problem is this: I’m having trouble getting a couple of
our local programmers to book me.
In their defense, we do have a lot of good callers around
here vying for the few slots. And one of our local
programmers is trying to run a consistently high-powered
dance, booking many world-class callers and bands. I have
never asked her about calling that dance, and in fact
aspire to become a caller she seeks out some day in the
future.
But the other dances are a different story. The one that
prompted me to reach out to you here is a medium-sized
hometown type dance featuring lots of different callers and
bands. I dance there often; it’s one of my home venues. I
have called one half-dance there, to great reviews from
both the dancers and the other caller. The band said they
enjoyed working with me too. Unfortunately, the programmer
was away at a camp that evening. He has only seen me call
guest spots – all of which he says he thoroughly enjoyed –
but only one full evening elsewhere, and here’s the rub:
wit wasn’t my best evening. It was a special 4-hour dance,
the longest gig I’ve ever done solo. I made a few minor
mistakes. And the band was a primarily English band – which
meant very nice music, but mild, not at all zesty.
The programmer in question is a friend of mine in the
dancing community. We’re fond of each other as both dance
partners and people. When I realized he might not be asking
me to call his dance because he doesn’t think I’m a good
enough caller, it felt devastating. But I got up the guts
to approach him at the end of last night’s dance after the
fiddler, notorious for his curmudgeonly pickiness, asked
when I was calling next and announced that he and his
girlfriend are my ‘biggest fans’. (I was quite floored,
and grateful. An ego boost can do wonders at moments like
that.) So I approached the programmer. “Can I ask you a
question?” I asked. “I don’t know if I want to answer,” he
replied, looking very nervous and obviously knowing what
was coming. “Well, I’m gonna ask it anyway,” I told him,
and took his arm as we walked away from the others in the
room. “If, as I now suspect, you don’t like the way I
call, what is it about it you don’t like so I can work on
improving that?” He looked relieved then, and was kind
enough to respond very honestly.
He named a number of things he hadn’t liked about the one
full dance he’d been at. He gave the hairy eyeball to my
inclusion of a particular mixer. He also said at one point
in a contra, one knot of folks was having trouble and I
came down on the floor to help them, but that left the rest
of them floundering awhile with no prompting. His memory
was astounding – I don’t remember that at all. Perhaps I
didn’t think anything of it at the time, or perhaps I was
even proud of myself for being able to then get back up on
the stool and call to everyone correctly after helping like
that. I definitely still have a LOT to learn. I believe
the biggest mistake he pointed out (and rightly) was that I
didn’t seem perfectly familiar with how to teach one of the
dances, and dancers had to ask a question to clarify. It’s
likely true: I try to call one dance that’s new to me each
evening, in order to expand my repertoire, and every time I
call one I seem to learn some new nuance about how to lead
it better.
He said he therefore thinks I need more practice. I
heartily agreed with that, and then pointed out that the
way to get it is by having gigs that allow me to do more
calling! He then said that that’s what the tiny venues are
for.
But I feel troubled by this answer. I’ve been calling those
venues, and will gladly continue to. However, it seems to
me that if a caller is only exposed to small halls
half-full of beginners, s/he will learn to call to that
level very well, but not to call dances appropriate for
more advanced dancers. How will I ever gain that skill if
I’m not given the chance to try it? It’s a catch-22. These
venues also often book very inexperienced bands, who don’t
know what I’m talking about when I try to discuss pairing
dances/tunes. So I have ideas of how I’d like to become a
better caller, but these circumstances are keeping me from
achieving that.
I also strongly believe that it’s every dance
organization’s responsibility to foster new talent, if they
want the group to stay alive. My local group has acted on
this seriously in the past, in fact giving me and others
matching scholarships to go to CDSS camp’s calling classes.
(In my case, perhaps they figured out I wasn’t going to go
away, so it was in their best interest to help me learn to
do it better. <g>) What’s happening now, though, is that
I’ve hit some sort of glass ceiling. I’m like in my calling
adolescence: no longer the cute beginner but also not yet a
rock star. If given the opportunity to call at a more
high-powered gig, I will not be perfect at it, no. But I
will get better and better, given the chance.
Hearing some programmers talk about callers and bands, I
have the sense now that a problematic gig like the one
Chris described in his recent ‘growth’ post could be a
death sentence around here. That caller might never be
invited back.
My experience of hitting a wall didn’t only happen that one
time. Earlier this month, trying to be proactive, I
inquired about potentially calling at a venue a bit more
than one hour from my home, another medium-sized/level
dance I’ve danced at many times in the past but not
recently. That programmer asked the very good question,
‘what sort of program do you do, and is it suitable for our
dancers?’ I sent him a sample program I successfully called
at a similar venue, along with an offer to discuss his
current community’s particular dance level and to craft my
program accordingly. I have not heard back. Some say that
he likes to call most of the dances there himself, so may
be reluctant to share.
It feels so disheartening to be kept out, I’m now
considering whether it’s worth it to continue trying to
call. Really, it’s been through frequent repetition that my
skills have improved so far. I’ve popped a new level of
understanding in terms of how to envision the moves in
space, how to teach geometrically and in terms of people
the dancers will encounter, and how to really work with the
band to create a synergistic ball o’ fire. These skills
have recently grown exponentially. I enjoy doing it, and
have gotten some excellent positive feedback from dancers,
bands, and other programmers – some of it even in writing,
so I can prove it. But if I have to fight to get one gig
every few months, I never will get better. I’ll forget the
nuances of how to do it. Instead of building on each
other, every dance evening will be a singular struggle. And
I doubt it’s worth it. I love giving to the dance community
through calling, but also love dancing – and that I feel
unquestioningly welcomed to do.
Thoughts? Strategies? Commiseration? How to best handle
this situation? Is there a way to encourage programmers to
nurture local talent? How did you manage to wrangle
getting gigs that allowed your skills to continually grow?
Sorry for the length of this post and the ‘woe is me’ tone.
But I figured some detail might help in this case, and I’m
really feeling at a loss.
Thank you, comrades, for any insight you might offer.
Tina Fields
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