The Singer's Spirit
Menu
How to Write a good singer's bio
By Lisa Houston
The most important tip I’m going to give you about writing a bio is that you write one! When the moment comes that you need one, you’ll have a job in hand, which means you’ll be busy. So write it now, and tweak later as needed. If you don’t write your bio, one of three terrible things will happen:
1. Somebody else will write it for you and say nothing you wanted them to say.
2. An industrious intern, volunteer, or schlamuggin, will go online and find a bio of yours from 1993 that lists repertoire that is now completely inappropriate for your voice, and includes the fact that you are happily married to someone you have long since divorced.
3. Nobody will write it, and you will continue to toil in obscurity.
Once you’ve written it, make sure you get it to the right person at the right time. Call, email, ask. Find out when the program or website is going to “press” and make sure your bio is there in time.
Topics covered below include italicization, capitalization, as well as general thoughts on style and content. If you don’t like these suggestions, toss them aside. There is no one right way to write. These are mostly my preferences rather than hard and fast rules. Perhaps have a grain of salt at the ready.
Length
Write a bio that is a size proportionate to the importance of your job relative to others, and to the stature of the company. Nobody wants to read three paragraphs about Mercedes when Carmen’s bio only has three lines. Likewise, too many accomplishments for a job as second assistant conductor in the town of Podunk can become sad rather than impressive.
It’s not a bad idea to write a few different ones and keep them around. The 50 word bio, the 100 word bio, the 200 word bio etc.
Emotional Content, Tone and Truth
I don’t know when it began, but there is a definite trend, especially in actor’s bios, to include the fact that you are “thrilled” or “delighted” to be returning for the Fall season. There’s no rule about expressing emotion, but it is generally thought best not to use up your precious word count to tell people what they already know, or can easily figure out for themselves. I would like to suggest that every actor, in every theater, in every town in the world is thrilled and delighted to be working at all, and that the declaration of these emotions falls into the category of things that go without saying.
To thank, or not to thank? Have you noticed that bios are starting to read more and more like acceptance speeches? There’s only one time I can recall enjoying reading a “thank you” in a bio. It was for a high school production of The Pirates of Penzance, and the student was thanking the musical director, and the musical director was…me. In other words, I’m pretty sure the only people who like thanks in bios, are the people being thanked. As a rule, I don’t like thanks in bios. (See exception below.)
While I’m getting pet peeves off my chest, I liked it at first, but now I’m tired of it. Can people please stop writing that they “hail from…” places? If you’re a native of somewhere, or you live somewhere, or you grew up somewhere, can you please just say that? When I hear that people “hail from” somewhere, I immediately picture a throng of people waving as their ship pulls out of the harbor. Perhaps that’s why people use it. Because it makes them sound important. Which leads me to: don’t exaggerate. It is a perfectly noble thing to have “been a student of”, or to have “understudied”, or even to have been “a longtime member of the ensemble.” Be proud of who you are. And remember, one lie, and the whole page falls into darkness.
In other words: don’t make shit up.
P.s. Don’t swear.
As far as including, or not including choral work, a good rule of thumb is to make sure that the experience you are including is relevant to the set of skills you bring to this particular job. Singers like to chat about the perils of being labeled as choral singers. That fear, and any other fear that ties you in knots and makes you chatter away for hours with other disgruntled singers instead of practicing, is beside the point. Good lawyers understand that juries, on the whole, are smart. Audiences reading your bio can see past grandiosity, or over-done self-deference. And if you’re worrying about people in the industry finding out, horror of horrors, that you sang second alto in the Carmina Burana with the Bakersfield Community College Chorus, remember this: the professionals reading your bio are in the business. They will be able to tell where you fit within that business. That’s their job. And even if you fool them with a bio (unlikely) they will know who you are the minute you open your mouth. There’s really nowhere to hide, but more importantly, there’s no point in hiding. The point of the bio is for the person reading it to learn about you.
Tone
In that case, why not include something fun? People are people. That means that they might be interested to know that you built your own one-woman glider and landed it on the planes of the Sonoran Desert because, well, that’s interesting. Or that your entire family is musical and you perform the Magic Flute together every New Year’s Eve. Don’t overdo it. But for the appropriate job, a single, slightly-tangential fun fact at the end of the bio may leave them smiling. At major houses, all the bios read as lists of major theaters and roles and tell us nothing except that the singers are very successful, which frankly we can hear for ourselves. But for the right place and the right time, why not use your bio to let a little more of who you are shine through? (Know your audience. If you’re singing at the Met, maybe don’t include that you can juggle, or love turtles.)
Singers can sometimes feel like we don’t have much control. We’re not conductors after all. But it’s perfectly valid to think about the tone you want your bio to have, and to make sure that tone is in line with the impression you make as a person when you meet someone. Are you refined and thoughtful? Are you a barrel of laughs? Are you an egghead? A big ball of emotion? A simple, hometown girl? Just make sure that you use your own voice, not someone else’s. Ask yourself, do you want your bio to be:
Elegant?
Cheerful?
Impressive?
Fascinating?
Fun?
Verbs and Variety
You will, most likely, list your credits, and may need to say the same thing several times. However, “She sang this role, then she sang that role, then she sang that role,” doesn’t flow very well. For verbs, we’re pretty much stuck with “performed”, “sang”, or, if we’re feeling interpretive, “portrayed.” But if you switch it up to make the verb about joining the company, you have some more options.
She joined the company of the Deutsche Oper as Azucena in Verdi’s Il trovatore…
She returned to the stage of the Deutsche Oper to portray Gilda in Rigoletto…
She made her debut as Pamina at the Staatsoper in Vienna.
You may also use the word “bow” as in, “she made her first bow at the Deutsche Oper as Azucena.” Or, you could even sneak in an additional credit this way: “After her bow as Carmen at Covent Garden, she returned to reprise the role of Elsa at Bayreuth. (As you can see, she is a very versatile singer, who sings both mezzo and soprano roles.)
Another option is to use something other than the singer as the subject. Examples:
“Reviewers often praise her over-indulgent tempos and faulty coloratura…”
Or “the company invited her back for a fourth season.”
Or “the season began with,” or “her season ended with,” or “her season included a bow as…”
Follow up note on verbs: debut can be used as a verb, “she debuted…” but I never like the way that looks in print. I prefer “made her debut.”
If you have been “praised,” “lauded,” or “welcomed” somewhere, be careful, as it is unspecific. Sometimes, it’s necessary to be a bit vague, such as when you’re deciding whether or not to include the name of the media source with a review quotation. Generally, if it’s impressive or interesting, include the credit, if not, don’t. But if I read that critics praised you, I’d like at least a couple of their words in quotes to show me. If you say you’re an “avid recitalist” I’d like to see something that backs that up. This leads me to the following.
Avoid Meaningless Statements
“Roles in his repertoire include…”
I don’t really like that one. Have you performed it, or not?
Likewise, locations are only meaningful when attached to a particular job. To say that you’ve sung or danced or acted all over Europe conjures up nothing. Where? Church basements? Major opera houses? Or did you just travel around and dance your hotel room?
Award-winning. What awards? Given by whom? When I read award-winning without the name of the award, I picture a coffee mug that reads “World’s Best Sister.”
Part of being a good writer is being kind to the reader, so don’t confuse them with meaningless sentences. Also, help them out if you think they need it. If you are performing for smaller companies, or community outreach where the audience may not know much about opera, you might say, “he performed the title role in Giuseppe Verdi’s tragic masterpiece, Rigoletto.” Then the reader has learned something, and it makes reading your bio more enjoyable. Or, I’m about to eat my own words, if you’re performing with or for school kids, go ahead and thank Mrs. Jones, or Mrs. Jones’s fourth period class.
Who Am I?
I can be Lisa Houston, Ms. Houston, Lisa, or just plain “she.” Usually, I start out with Lisa Houston, then use “she” until I’ve used it so much it gets sing-songy, at which point I throw in a “Ms. Houston” if it’s a fancier gig, or “Lisa” if I want to feel like I’m letting the reader into some more personal side of me.
More and more, “Ms. Houston” sounds like somebody who didn’t get the memo that it’s 2015 and almost everybody calls each other by their first names. Mostly, after an identifying use of the full name in the first line, I’m OK with just being “she” and adding an occasional “Lisa,” just to keep me more particularly in their mind’s eye. But be consistent. Don’t be “Lisa” one minute, and “Ms. Houston” the next.
Sometimes I include voice type, as in “Soprano Lisa Houston.” Sometimes I don’t.
Now lets get down to brass tacks. (By the way, don’t use phrases like “getting down to brass tacks.” They sound overly chatty, and not everybody knows what they mean.)
A Couple of Points on Style
Changing fonts is no big deal these days, but most people handling text will love you if you give them 12 pt, double spaced, Times New Roman.
Italics or Quotation Marks?
For titles of long pieces, such as operas and symphonies, use italics. For example: Puccini’s Madama Butterfly or Beethoven’s Pathétique. And singers should know this applies to longer song cycles as well. For example, Das Lied von der Erde.
The general rule used to be to reserve quotation marks for shorter works, such as songs, or shorter symphonic works (Ravel’s “Bolero” or “The Man I Love.”) Following the old rules, a book title would be in italics, but a chapter title would be in quotation marks, likewise a TV show would be italicized, and episode name in quotation marks, a song cycle in italics, but a song in quotation marks. However, common practice these days, at least in the classical world, is to use italics for shorter works as well. For example, the song Gretchen am Spinnrade, or Ravel’s Bolero. So mostly, use italics.
By the way, the italics in that sentence above for used to be were an example of using italics for emphasis, but that won't come up in writing a bio.
Works with numbers attached are neither in quotation marks nor italicized. For example, Sonata in F#, Op. 78.
Liturgical works are italicized. For example, Rossini’s Stabat Mater.
Capitalization
The first word of most works is capitalized, but after that, the native language rules are observed, so Berlioz’s Symphonie fantastique follows the French and does not capitalize the second word, and Mozart’s work reads Eine kleine Nachtmusik. (Kleine is not capitalized because it is an adjective, and Nacthmusik is capitalized because it is a noun, and that’s the rule in German.) The second (third, fourth, or fifth…) word of an Italian or French opera will not be capitalized, unless it is a proper name. Note: La gazza ladra or La forza del destino. Compared to Les Huguenots or Don Carlos. And sometimes you have both, as in Il barbiere di Siviglia. (Barbiere is not a proper name, Siviglia is.)
Along these lines, please note that neither Il trovatore, nor La traviata employs a capital “T.”
And sometimes you might think it’s a name, but it’s not, as in I masnadieri. However, Schiller’s play, upon which the opera I masnadieri is based, Die Räuber, capitalizes the word meaning “robbers”, as it is a noun and in German, nouns are capitalized.
There are other peculiarities so it’s worth doing a bit of reading to make sure you get this right. If you have a Norton/Grove encyclopedia or other musical reference book around, that’s best. Otherwise, try to get to a real, musical source online, perhaps from a university or major opera house.
For proof reading tasks such as this, sorry, Wikipedia doesn’t count.
A Few Generalities
How much confidence is too much? Or too little? Sometimes it’s hard to think of one nice thing to say about yourself, other times (after coffee) one might think from reading your bio that you’re Anna Netrebko, only prettier.
Writers have a saying: write drunk, edit sober.
This comes from the understanding that you can’t edit a blank page, and sometimes you need to loosen up and let if flow, just to get the words down.
So, write your bio just after Zumba class, or when you're full of post-show adrenaline, but edit it when you’re somewhere in the middle of your own mood spectrum. One added caution: stay away from editing when you’re in your “who the hell do I think I am?” mood, unless you want your bio to be blank.
To practice, just for the muscle, try writing in a couple of different tones.
Read samples online to see what you like, and what you don’t.
Have somebody besides you, and besides your mother, read it. Preferably somebody in the industry, but not in competition with you (even if only in their own mind.)
Write and leave it awhile. Don’t rewrite and rewrite, micromanaging your words until they are pudding. Breaks are good.
Update it. Replace old, unimpressive stuff, with new, impressive stuff.
If you’re the kind of person who likes to set goals and visualize, why not sit down and write your bio as you’d like it to read five years from now, or ten?
Lastly, writing a bio can actually be a very liberating and enjoyable experience. Sometimes, we’re so busy trudging along worrying about what we’re going to do next, we don’t realize how much we’ve accomplished. When we see it in print, it can make for a pleasant moment of cognitive dissonance.
Good luck. I hope you enjoy the process, and the performance!
1. Somebody else will write it for you and say nothing you wanted them to say.
2. An industrious intern, volunteer, or schlamuggin, will go online and find a bio of yours from 1993 that lists repertoire that is now completely inappropriate for your voice, and includes the fact that you are happily married to someone you have long since divorced.
3. Nobody will write it, and you will continue to toil in obscurity.
Once you’ve written it, make sure you get it to the right person at the right time. Call, email, ask. Find out when the program or website is going to “press” and make sure your bio is there in time.
Topics covered below include italicization, capitalization, as well as general thoughts on style and content. If you don’t like these suggestions, toss them aside. There is no one right way to write. These are mostly my preferences rather than hard and fast rules. Perhaps have a grain of salt at the ready.
Length
Write a bio that is a size proportionate to the importance of your job relative to others, and to the stature of the company. Nobody wants to read three paragraphs about Mercedes when Carmen’s bio only has three lines. Likewise, too many accomplishments for a job as second assistant conductor in the town of Podunk can become sad rather than impressive.
It’s not a bad idea to write a few different ones and keep them around. The 50 word bio, the 100 word bio, the 200 word bio etc.
Emotional Content, Tone and Truth
I don’t know when it began, but there is a definite trend, especially in actor’s bios, to include the fact that you are “thrilled” or “delighted” to be returning for the Fall season. There’s no rule about expressing emotion, but it is generally thought best not to use up your precious word count to tell people what they already know, or can easily figure out for themselves. I would like to suggest that every actor, in every theater, in every town in the world is thrilled and delighted to be working at all, and that the declaration of these emotions falls into the category of things that go without saying.
To thank, or not to thank? Have you noticed that bios are starting to read more and more like acceptance speeches? There’s only one time I can recall enjoying reading a “thank you” in a bio. It was for a high school production of The Pirates of Penzance, and the student was thanking the musical director, and the musical director was…me. In other words, I’m pretty sure the only people who like thanks in bios, are the people being thanked. As a rule, I don’t like thanks in bios. (See exception below.)
While I’m getting pet peeves off my chest, I liked it at first, but now I’m tired of it. Can people please stop writing that they “hail from…” places? If you’re a native of somewhere, or you live somewhere, or you grew up somewhere, can you please just say that? When I hear that people “hail from” somewhere, I immediately picture a throng of people waving as their ship pulls out of the harbor. Perhaps that’s why people use it. Because it makes them sound important. Which leads me to: don’t exaggerate. It is a perfectly noble thing to have “been a student of”, or to have “understudied”, or even to have been “a longtime member of the ensemble.” Be proud of who you are. And remember, one lie, and the whole page falls into darkness.
In other words: don’t make shit up.
P.s. Don’t swear.
As far as including, or not including choral work, a good rule of thumb is to make sure that the experience you are including is relevant to the set of skills you bring to this particular job. Singers like to chat about the perils of being labeled as choral singers. That fear, and any other fear that ties you in knots and makes you chatter away for hours with other disgruntled singers instead of practicing, is beside the point. Good lawyers understand that juries, on the whole, are smart. Audiences reading your bio can see past grandiosity, or over-done self-deference. And if you’re worrying about people in the industry finding out, horror of horrors, that you sang second alto in the Carmina Burana with the Bakersfield Community College Chorus, remember this: the professionals reading your bio are in the business. They will be able to tell where you fit within that business. That’s their job. And even if you fool them with a bio (unlikely) they will know who you are the minute you open your mouth. There’s really nowhere to hide, but more importantly, there’s no point in hiding. The point of the bio is for the person reading it to learn about you.
Tone
In that case, why not include something fun? People are people. That means that they might be interested to know that you built your own one-woman glider and landed it on the planes of the Sonoran Desert because, well, that’s interesting. Or that your entire family is musical and you perform the Magic Flute together every New Year’s Eve. Don’t overdo it. But for the appropriate job, a single, slightly-tangential fun fact at the end of the bio may leave them smiling. At major houses, all the bios read as lists of major theaters and roles and tell us nothing except that the singers are very successful, which frankly we can hear for ourselves. But for the right place and the right time, why not use your bio to let a little more of who you are shine through? (Know your audience. If you’re singing at the Met, maybe don’t include that you can juggle, or love turtles.)
Singers can sometimes feel like we don’t have much control. We’re not conductors after all. But it’s perfectly valid to think about the tone you want your bio to have, and to make sure that tone is in line with the impression you make as a person when you meet someone. Are you refined and thoughtful? Are you a barrel of laughs? Are you an egghead? A big ball of emotion? A simple, hometown girl? Just make sure that you use your own voice, not someone else’s. Ask yourself, do you want your bio to be:
Elegant?
Cheerful?
Impressive?
Fascinating?
Fun?
Verbs and Variety
You will, most likely, list your credits, and may need to say the same thing several times. However, “She sang this role, then she sang that role, then she sang that role,” doesn’t flow very well. For verbs, we’re pretty much stuck with “performed”, “sang”, or, if we’re feeling interpretive, “portrayed.” But if you switch it up to make the verb about joining the company, you have some more options.
She joined the company of the Deutsche Oper as Azucena in Verdi’s Il trovatore…
She returned to the stage of the Deutsche Oper to portray Gilda in Rigoletto…
She made her debut as Pamina at the Staatsoper in Vienna.
You may also use the word “bow” as in, “she made her first bow at the Deutsche Oper as Azucena.” Or, you could even sneak in an additional credit this way: “After her bow as Carmen at Covent Garden, she returned to reprise the role of Elsa at Bayreuth. (As you can see, she is a very versatile singer, who sings both mezzo and soprano roles.)
Another option is to use something other than the singer as the subject. Examples:
“Reviewers often praise her over-indulgent tempos and faulty coloratura…”
Or “the company invited her back for a fourth season.”
Or “the season began with,” or “her season ended with,” or “her season included a bow as…”
Follow up note on verbs: debut can be used as a verb, “she debuted…” but I never like the way that looks in print. I prefer “made her debut.”
If you have been “praised,” “lauded,” or “welcomed” somewhere, be careful, as it is unspecific. Sometimes, it’s necessary to be a bit vague, such as when you’re deciding whether or not to include the name of the media source with a review quotation. Generally, if it’s impressive or interesting, include the credit, if not, don’t. But if I read that critics praised you, I’d like at least a couple of their words in quotes to show me. If you say you’re an “avid recitalist” I’d like to see something that backs that up. This leads me to the following.
Avoid Meaningless Statements
“Roles in his repertoire include…”
I don’t really like that one. Have you performed it, or not?
Likewise, locations are only meaningful when attached to a particular job. To say that you’ve sung or danced or acted all over Europe conjures up nothing. Where? Church basements? Major opera houses? Or did you just travel around and dance your hotel room?
Award-winning. What awards? Given by whom? When I read award-winning without the name of the award, I picture a coffee mug that reads “World’s Best Sister.”
Part of being a good writer is being kind to the reader, so don’t confuse them with meaningless sentences. Also, help them out if you think they need it. If you are performing for smaller companies, or community outreach where the audience may not know much about opera, you might say, “he performed the title role in Giuseppe Verdi’s tragic masterpiece, Rigoletto.” Then the reader has learned something, and it makes reading your bio more enjoyable. Or, I’m about to eat my own words, if you’re performing with or for school kids, go ahead and thank Mrs. Jones, or Mrs. Jones’s fourth period class.
Who Am I?
I can be Lisa Houston, Ms. Houston, Lisa, or just plain “she.” Usually, I start out with Lisa Houston, then use “she” until I’ve used it so much it gets sing-songy, at which point I throw in a “Ms. Houston” if it’s a fancier gig, or “Lisa” if I want to feel like I’m letting the reader into some more personal side of me.
More and more, “Ms. Houston” sounds like somebody who didn’t get the memo that it’s 2015 and almost everybody calls each other by their first names. Mostly, after an identifying use of the full name in the first line, I’m OK with just being “she” and adding an occasional “Lisa,” just to keep me more particularly in their mind’s eye. But be consistent. Don’t be “Lisa” one minute, and “Ms. Houston” the next.
Sometimes I include voice type, as in “Soprano Lisa Houston.” Sometimes I don’t.
Now lets get down to brass tacks. (By the way, don’t use phrases like “getting down to brass tacks.” They sound overly chatty, and not everybody knows what they mean.)
A Couple of Points on Style
Changing fonts is no big deal these days, but most people handling text will love you if you give them 12 pt, double spaced, Times New Roman.
Italics or Quotation Marks?
For titles of long pieces, such as operas and symphonies, use italics. For example: Puccini’s Madama Butterfly or Beethoven’s Pathétique. And singers should know this applies to longer song cycles as well. For example, Das Lied von der Erde.
The general rule used to be to reserve quotation marks for shorter works, such as songs, or shorter symphonic works (Ravel’s “Bolero” or “The Man I Love.”) Following the old rules, a book title would be in italics, but a chapter title would be in quotation marks, likewise a TV show would be italicized, and episode name in quotation marks, a song cycle in italics, but a song in quotation marks. However, common practice these days, at least in the classical world, is to use italics for shorter works as well. For example, the song Gretchen am Spinnrade, or Ravel’s Bolero. So mostly, use italics.
By the way, the italics in that sentence above for used to be were an example of using italics for emphasis, but that won't come up in writing a bio.
Works with numbers attached are neither in quotation marks nor italicized. For example, Sonata in F#, Op. 78.
Liturgical works are italicized. For example, Rossini’s Stabat Mater.
Capitalization
The first word of most works is capitalized, but after that, the native language rules are observed, so Berlioz’s Symphonie fantastique follows the French and does not capitalize the second word, and Mozart’s work reads Eine kleine Nachtmusik. (Kleine is not capitalized because it is an adjective, and Nacthmusik is capitalized because it is a noun, and that’s the rule in German.) The second (third, fourth, or fifth…) word of an Italian or French opera will not be capitalized, unless it is a proper name. Note: La gazza ladra or La forza del destino. Compared to Les Huguenots or Don Carlos. And sometimes you have both, as in Il barbiere di Siviglia. (Barbiere is not a proper name, Siviglia is.)
Along these lines, please note that neither Il trovatore, nor La traviata employs a capital “T.”
And sometimes you might think it’s a name, but it’s not, as in I masnadieri. However, Schiller’s play, upon which the opera I masnadieri is based, Die Räuber, capitalizes the word meaning “robbers”, as it is a noun and in German, nouns are capitalized.
There are other peculiarities so it’s worth doing a bit of reading to make sure you get this right. If you have a Norton/Grove encyclopedia or other musical reference book around, that’s best. Otherwise, try to get to a real, musical source online, perhaps from a university or major opera house.
For proof reading tasks such as this, sorry, Wikipedia doesn’t count.
A Few Generalities
How much confidence is too much? Or too little? Sometimes it’s hard to think of one nice thing to say about yourself, other times (after coffee) one might think from reading your bio that you’re Anna Netrebko, only prettier.
Writers have a saying: write drunk, edit sober.
This comes from the understanding that you can’t edit a blank page, and sometimes you need to loosen up and let if flow, just to get the words down.
So, write your bio just after Zumba class, or when you're full of post-show adrenaline, but edit it when you’re somewhere in the middle of your own mood spectrum. One added caution: stay away from editing when you’re in your “who the hell do I think I am?” mood, unless you want your bio to be blank.
To practice, just for the muscle, try writing in a couple of different tones.
Read samples online to see what you like, and what you don’t.
Have somebody besides you, and besides your mother, read it. Preferably somebody in the industry, but not in competition with you (even if only in their own mind.)
Write and leave it awhile. Don’t rewrite and rewrite, micromanaging your words until they are pudding. Breaks are good.
Update it. Replace old, unimpressive stuff, with new, impressive stuff.
If you’re the kind of person who likes to set goals and visualize, why not sit down and write your bio as you’d like it to read five years from now, or ten?
Lastly, writing a bio can actually be a very liberating and enjoyable experience. Sometimes, we’re so busy trudging along worrying about what we’re going to do next, we don’t realize how much we’ve accomplished. When we see it in print, it can make for a pleasant moment of cognitive dissonance.
Good luck. I hope you enjoy the process, and the performance!
©Lisa Houston 2022