Sara Solovich author of Playing Scared.Christine Z. Mason
Sara Solovitch could play the piano beautifully. She just couldn't play it in front of others.
Whenever she tried to perform, her body would betray her. Her hands would drip with sweat. Her shoulders would tense. Her knees would knock and her feet would shake.
Determined to tackle her stage fright, Solovitch, a U.S. journalist and former health columnist who grew up in Port Colborne, Ont., embarked on a year-long quest for remedies and to understand the biology and psychology behind this most common of anxieties. She set herself a goal: to perform a solo concert ahead of her 60th birthday. She tried numerous therapies, including beta blockers, biofeedback and exposure therapy, and has chronicled her efforts in a thoughtfully researched new book, Playing Scared: A History and Memoir of Stage Fright, released last month by Bloomsbury.
The Globe and Mail reached Solovitch by phone at her home in Santa Cruz, Calif.:
Why does something non-life-threatening, such as playing piano in front of people, provoke a fear response?
I think it's really just part of the human condition. It's standing apart from the herd and it almost feels like you're isolated, with all eyes on you. It's just as intense, somehow, as if you're being chased by a lion on the savannah, and your body responds exactly the same. Our bodies have developed over thousands of years to respond to any kind of stress or fear; we just go into that kind of overdrive. We haven't learned, somehow, to channel our adrenalin – although some people just love adrenalin and seek it out for exactly the same reasons that somebody like me shies away from it.
How common is it for performers to use beta blockers for stage fright?
Most studies estimate it runs at about 27 per cent to 30 per cent. Symphony musicians will just laugh and tell you that number is way low, and that most people they know, in fact, do it.
But it's very controversial and it's kind of a taboo subject. People talk about it and admit to it in private, but few really cop to it in public.
Why is it taboo?
Because there's a feeling that performance is partly about how prepossessing you are, how you take command, how you stand up and face the audience down.
How do beta blockers work?
Beta blockers are one of the most widely prescribed medications in the world, and they're prescribed, for the most part, for heart problems, hypertension, et cetera. What they do is they lower blood pressure and they block the adrenalin-responsive beta receptors, stopping the nerve impulses from reaching your heart.
When you're prescribed a beta blocker for a heart problem, it can often be prescribed in the dosage of around 100 milligrams. The dose I take – my little bottle actually says, "for public speaking" – is 10 milligrams. I never take more than half a tablet now, so it's even been suggested that it's working as a placebo effect on me. But I'll still take it, thank you very much.
What does it feel like to perform when you're on them?
I'm not aware of any additional feelings. What it does is it removes the symptoms that I ordinarily would have when I perform. My feet don't tremble, my heart doesn't pound, my hands don't shake and, best of all, my hands don't go wet with sweat.
It's more an absence of symptoms than it is anything you can put your finger on and say, "Ah, I feel calmer." No, it leaves me feeling the way I am right now. On the other hand, you want to have some adrenalin because you need adrenalin for passion, to give an exciting performance.
Of the various treatments and techniques you tried, what solution felt most effective for managing your stage fright?
The most important thing was really just to do it. And in that sense, it was exposure therapy, which is all about doing something that you really hate and [doing] it over and over again. Of course, when we're afraid of something, the most natural thing is to avoid it. And I had been avoiding playing the piano in public for decades. For me to actually force myself to play was, as simple as it sounds, the very hardest thing. I did that by playing at the San Jose airport; at least every other week, I'd drive there, lay out all my music and just go through pieces I wanted to perform, so I became comfortable with the idea of performing.
Beyond that, I learned how to just think differently and talk differently to myself.
So when I was going to give a little recital, instead of telling myself, "I'm so nervous, I'm terrified," I'd say, "I'm just so excited." And I'd just say it aloud to myself, over and over again, so I'd create a different mindset for myself. When I played really well, I'd say, "You did really well. See? You can do it." That positive language made a big difference for me.
In your book, you mention a technique that involves thinking about yourself in the third person. How does that work?
Researchers at University of California Berkeley found when people talk to themselves in the third person, they're able to create some distance from some trauma or problem.
When you just recount your experience, and you say, "I broke up with my boyfriend, and he said this, and he was so mean to me," you just kind of obsess and perseverate and overanalyze.
But when you talk about it from a third person – in my case it would be like, "Poor Sara, when she made that mistake, she felt so bad. But really, it wasn't so big of a deal" – you can then let it go.
This interview has been condensed and edited.