THE ACCIDENTAL SINGER

I’ve been writing seriously for thirty years, and although I’m no Nora Roberts or support myself on my earnings, they do pay expenses and I’m in the black. The only other thing I do is sing in musicals produced by the local Performing Arts Club.


That began seven years ago when my husband accused me of spending all day at the computer. I realized I needed to get out and meet people, so I went to an audition, hoping to get a part in the chorus of the show, or, if lucky, part of a duet or trio. Instead I was given two solos and, although there was no pay, I enjoyed the thrill of audience applause and compliments in the lobby after a performance.

When I was a child, my sister took piano lessons, and I took singing lessons until high school occupied all my time. But I continued to love singing, bought Broadway show albums and sang all the songs for myself. Also for my husband, who, when we took long trips in the car, would ask me to sing.

Nevertheless I was surprised to find that strangers liked my voice. Not only that, the PAC had many talented, formerly professional singers among its members, so I felt honored to join. One lady was the fifth Laurie in OKLAHOMA on Broadway and Richard Rodgers played piano at her audition.

My latest (7th) appearance occurred earlier this month when I sang in a group number, and then a solo of “It’s the Little Things” from Stephen Sondheim’s COMPANY. This is a long song, and difficult, because it consists of a series of 27 “little things” that bear no relationship to one another, and must be memorized (and sung at a fast tempo). Here’s a sample of one verse:

“It’s the little things you do together that make perfect relationships.
The hobbies you pursue together,
Savings you accrue together
Looks you misconstrue together
That make marriage a joy.”

Or, my favorite:
“The concerts you enjoy together,
Neighbors you annoy together
Children you destroy together
That keep marriage intact.”

Now I need to write some more, finish the novella I started and revise my long mystery novel. I guess I’ll go back to singing to my husband in the car.