A compass to passion, great cover letters, charging your worth
and other benefits of enthusiasm
When I was in the middle of my theater career, one of my favorite parts of every performance was the audience talkback: an exciting time just after the show ended, when the house lights turned on and we got to have an actual conversation with everyone who came to see us and decided to stay.
I’d get so into it that I was often nominated by my castmates to facilitate, which in hindsight should have been an indication that I had a calling beyond performing eight shows a week (along with other signs, like the fact that I was secretly writing about algebra at 3 a.m.; keep reading).
It’s no secret that I live for a good conversation, and that one of the ways I define voice is the unique and dynamic conversation that’s yours to lead. So I thought: Why not place the talkback front and center at The Ecstatic Review? This newsletter show is one big conversation with you, after all—so let’s flip this thing around, turn on those house lights, and open up the floor!
Talkbacks will be a place to share some stories and go deeper each month, so for the longform enthusiasts in the house, this one’s for you. This month, I’m going to share questions inspired by ones I hear a lot in my work at Ecstatic Voice, asked by a cast of characters I’ve totally made up, that all connect to March’s theme of enthusiasm. For future talkbacks, I invite you to submit your own! (April’s theme is celebration, to get your wheels turning.)
For those of you who prefer to take in longer pieces while you’re on a walk or cooking dinner, I’ll also be voicing each month’s talkback. Beginning next month, voiceovers will be a feature of paid subscriptions to support production costs. Our sound department of one (me) thanks you in advance!
Alright, let me find the light switch while this month’s house band Scary Pockets leads us in:
Thanks, Scary Pockets! Great song choice.
OK, who’d like to ask a question first? How about you, in the—wow, that is a fantastic hat. Very Wes Anderson meets Jane Austen.
Oh, thanks. Mr. Darcy summering at The Grand Budapest Hotel would be my dream.
Oh my god: a genius mashup.
Well, I appreciate you saying that because I’m feeling pretty non-genius these days. I used to love creating things until my job completely beat me up and burned me out. My question is: How do I find my passion again?
I hear you, and in my own way, I really relate. I’m certainly no stranger to burnout; in fact, it was on a stage like this one that I once got so beat up and burned out that for a while I thought I’d developed stage fright two decades into my performance career.
When that happened it was deeply devastating, not to mention super strange. Life felt like that Dolly Parton song “The Grass is Blue”: nothing made sense. I felt like I didn’t know who I was, and I had no idea what I was going to do. I had bills to pay, so I got a job to keep the lights on—and when I wasn’t doing that I took long walks and cried a lot, wondering if my own light would ever turn on again.
Somewhere in there, I found myself returning to a thing that I’d been oddly enthusiastic about before the burnout. The thing was math, and specifically a website called 11 Betties: where, for reasons I didn’t yet understand, I couldn't stop writing about math in the context of pop culture, heartbreak, a hexagonal garage I stumbled upon while driving downtown, everything.
I wasn’t sure if I was passionate about it—as someone with many interests, that word had always been hard for me—but I did know that spending late nights comparing linear equations to Lady Gaga wasn’t normal, so I figured that there was at least a glimmer of enthusiasm in the room with me.
On one of those long walks pondering my existence, I had the idea to make a video in the style of Lynn Hirschberg’s Screen Tests for W Magazine, interviewing women and teenage girls about math and how their brains uniquely work while doing it. I’d never produced or directed anything other than making stuff for fun, but something about being at a grass-is-blue level of burnout must have made me decide I had nothing to lose.
My friend Jessica generously offered me her garage to film in and put me in touch with a cinematographer who said yes—and then 15 other smart and talented people said yes, too. I scrounged up enough money to pay the cinematographer, rent exactly one light, and buy everyone sandwiches for lunch. The night before the shoot, I remember creating a makeshift call sheet and panicking.
There’s so much more to share about what happened next, how it ultimately led me to create Ecstatic Voice, and why math and voice actually have so much in common. But the long story short is that How I Do Math opened up a whole world of possibility that eventually put me smack in the middle of my passion. And it started by following a tiny glimmer of enthusiasm step by step.
OK, so I think what you're saying is instead of worrying about where my passion went, I can start to notice where my enthusiasm is already leading me—or where it’s led me before?
Yes! When you’re in the desert of burnout, the ocean of passion can feel impossibly far away. Enthusiasm is an illuminating compass—not to mention a powerful engine—that you can count on to guide you there.
But how do I tell that I’m enthusiastic about something? I’m not really an enthusiastic type of person.
Excellent question, you in the blue jumpsuit who jumped right in! Hey, any idea where I might find a jumpsuit that fits my long torso?
Oh, I don’t know. I made this one.
Tell me more.
Well, I love vintage jumpsuits but I couldn’t find one that I liked, so I scoured the internet for deadstock fabric, found this really cool cotton canvas but not in the color I wanted, so I hand-dyed it, taught myself how to sew, and here we are! Saying it out loud, I'm realizing it’s a little over the top.
As someone whose thermostat is perpetually set to Over the Top, I love it! And it’s also a great example of enthusiasm.
When I’m working with someone to identify their truest expression, I always know when we’ve hit the enthusiastic wellspring. It sounds a lot like you did just now: it flows right out when you’re talking about it. It’s not necessarily loud, bright, or full of exclamation points, but it is full of you.
I hope I didn’t come across as too intense.
Intensity is another great sign! One of enthusiasm’s definitions is “intense interest,” which is now a top contender for the name of my future punk band. It’s also worth noting that enthusiasm comes from the Greek word enthousiazein, which refers to being possessed by the gods.
I laughed when I discovered that, because when I was talking about math way before it was cool or even socially acceptable to do so, people definitely looked at me like I was possessed. An astonishingly large number of people asked me if I was actually referring to meth (yup, as in crystal) because somehow that made more sense? Those kinds of reactions led me to seriously wonder if my enthusiasm was leading me astray. I didn’t yet know that people not getting it was another sign that I was onto something.
So for the rest of you who might be in the process of figuring out what your version of Darcy at the Grand Budapest Hotel or a vintage jumpsuit is, you might ask yourself:
What’s an interest of mine that people don’t seem to get? What could I just get lost in until 3 a.m.? What’s a conversation that I’d secretly love to have out loud, if only I had the words?
Those kinds of questions can provide clues into identifying what truly lights you up.
Here’s something I’d love to have words for: this cover letter I’ve been trying to write for a week. It’s feeling like a book report and I hate it.
Impressive segue, you in the very dapper three-piece suit!
Why, thank you.
So who’s it for?
Me, I suppose? I enjoy dressing up.
Oh, I meant the cover letter. And same.
Ah. It’s for a coffee brand. I’m applying to be their Director of Marketing.
Nice! What interests you about them?
Well, I love their coffee. Which says a lot, because I’m somewhat of a coffee snob. But my sister, who freely chooses to drink instant coffee, also loves it. Which makes it quite possibly the first thing we’ve ever agreed on. And that got me excited, because I think that’s what coffee could be—a small but meaningful way of bringing people together.
Start your cover letter right there. Tell this brand how what they've created has strengthened your relationship with your sister, and why that matters to you. Share an idea or two about how you might encourage more meaningful connection in this role, and follow that with a few relevant details about your experience that will help them know you’re equipped to do it.
So, you’re essentially suggesting I lead with enthusiasm?
Exactly. Leading with enthusiasm is like opening up a window to your point of view, and then inviting someone else to see what you see. That’s an ideal way to start any conversation, including those in cover letter form, because it’s both connective and efficient. As you open up that window, the view is colored with your past experience, your current interests, and your vision for the future. And that illustrates a whole lot more than a book report on your accomplishments ever could.
Wow. That sounds a lot more simple than I was making it.
Good! Remember, a cover letter doesn’t have to get you the job; it just has to get you to the next step of the process. So let it be the beginning of a conversation you’re genuinely excited to have, and invite them to have it with you.
On that note, we’re coming to the end of this conversation. The parking garage closes in five minutes, so we have time for one more quick question—how about you, in the back!
Yes, hi! I don’t know if this is quick, but my question is: I’m actually so enthusiastic about my work that I’d literally do it for free. So what should I charge?
At the risk of oversimplifying, I'll give you my short answer: More! Charge more. Or at least make sure that your rate is reflecting all of the many benefits of pouring your enthusiasm into your work.
When I coach creative clients on salary and rate negotiation, I like to ask:
In addition to your skills and expertise, what else are you bringing to the table because you’re so enthusiastic about this?
Are you voluntarily working long hours? Marinating on possible solutions on your days off? Investing in continuing education to grow your knowledge? Adjusting your lifestyle so that you can be available?
With that newfound awareness, then comes the fun part of communicating its real value.
It’s understandable to feel sheepish about charging money for a thing you feel lucky to get to do. But if you happen to be highly skilled at something and you enjoy it so much you’d do it for free? I’m pretty confident that anyone who gets to experience that incredibly powerful combo is also going to feel lucky.
I feel lucky to have gotten to hang out with you in this juicy conversation, so thanks for joining me! Scary Pockets is back to carry us out with another on-theme selection:
If you need some more hands-on guidance in identifying your enthusiasm, confirming its legitimacy, illuminating its value, and bringing more of it your way, make sure you get the EV Memo to hear about the next cohort of Tell Me About Yourself and a spring special on one-on-one sessions very soon.
Oh, and don’t forget to validate your parking ticket in the lobby! I hate when I forget to do that.
Rooting for you always,
P.S. If you know someone who would enjoy The Ecstatic Review, please pass it along! All are welcome, and every voice makes this show that much fuller.
Cate, this was seriously the most creative way I've ever seen a Q&A done. And the VO with all the voices!!! Best way to start my week. 💛