Starting with the legend instead of the work
The most common slip in a profile is opening with a tidy story about the person rather than with what they have actually made. A neat origin tale about a first guitar or a childhood bookshelf feels warm, but it is often repeated from one article to the next until nobody remembers where it began. I now start with the work itself: a record, a novel, a play, a handmade chair. Listening, reading or looking closely gives me something I can describe honestly in my own words.
That approach also protects the reader. If a profile rests on public work, anyone can go and find it, and the piece stays useful long after the season has changed. A story built on a charming anecdote can only be trusted as far as its source goes, and the source is frequently a single retelling that has drifted over time.
When I do include a personal detail, I ask whether it explains the work. If it does, it earns its place. If it only adds colour, I leave it out.
- Begin with the work, not the myth
- Describe what you have heard, read or seen yourself
- Keep personal detail only when it explains the art
Borrowing quotations you cannot trace
A line attributed to a musician or author can travel across a dozen websites, each one slightly altered. It is tempting to drop a fine-sounding sentence into a profile because it fits the mood. I have learned to treat any quotation I cannot trace to a named, dated and public source as unusable, however well it suits the paragraph.
The better habit is to quote only what you can point to: a published interview, the liner notes of an album, the preface of a book. Even then, I keep the quotation short and place it where it is needed rather than as decoration. Paraphrase is often kinder and clearer, and it avoids putting words in someone's mouth.
If no verifiable quotation exists, say less. A profile can be rich and readable without a single borrowed line, and readers notice the care that results.
- Quote only from sources you can name
- Keep quotations short and purposeful
- Prefer honest paraphrase to a doubtful line
Praising without saying what is good
Words such as remarkable, beloved or celebrated fill a great many profiles and tell the reader almost nothing. They signal enthusiasm while avoiding the harder job of explaining what makes the work worth attention. I try to replace each adjective with an observation: the way a songwriter lets a verse end mid-thought, or how a novelist keeps scenes in a small town to a few quiet rooms.
Specific description is also more respectful. It treats the artist as someone whose choices can be examined, not as a brand to be applauded. It gives a reader who has never met the work a real sense of what to expect, and gives a longtime admirer the pleasure of recognition.
A useful test is to cover the name and read the paragraph. If it could describe any artist in the country, it needs rewriting.
- Swap each adjective for an observation
- Describe choices, not reputation
- Cover the name and see if the text still fits
Flattening a long career into one decade
Many profiles fix on the moment an artist was most visible and treat everything before and after as footnotes. Careers in music, theatre, writing and craft rarely run in a straight line. There are quiet years, changes of direction and projects that never reached a wide audience but shaped what followed.
I try to give a career its proper length without turning the piece into a timeline. That means choosing two or three turning points visible in the public record, such as a change of instrument, a move between provinces or a shift from one form to another, and letting them carry the story. Dates should be checked against the work itself, not against another article.
Fairness to later work matters too. An artist who has moved on from a famous album deserves to be described as they are now, not only as they once were.
- Choose two or three real turning points
- Check dates against the work itself
- Describe the artist as they are now
Forgetting the place and the people around the artist
Artists in Canada often work in small halls, community theatres, regional galleries and workshops far from the biggest cities. A profile that ignores this setting misses much of what shapes the work. A fiddler's repertoire may come from a particular valley, and a potter's glazes may reflect local clay and the few studios still firing in the area.
Writing about context does not mean listing every collaborator. It means noting the venues, teachers, festivals or neighbours that appear in the public record and that help a reader understand the scene. I find it adds warmth without drifting into gossip, and it nudges readers toward the places where such work can be seen.
Balance matters across the country as well. A magazine that only profiles artists from a few big cities gives a narrow picture of what Canadians are making.
- Name the venues and scenes that shaped the work
- Avoid long lists of collaborators
- Look beyond the largest cities
Writing as if the artist were an official voice
An independent magazine speaks for itself, not for the person it profiles. A common error is to adopt the artist's own phrasing so completely that the piece reads like promotional material or an official statement. Readers deserve to know which opinions are the writer's and which belong to the subject.
I keep a clear line between description and endorsement. This journal does not present itself as a representative of any performer, and a profile is not an announcement of plans, tours or releases that I cannot confirm. When I am unsure whether something is still current, I leave it out or describe it as it stood in the public record.
The reward is trust. Readers return to a magazine whose profiles feel curious, fair and plainly independent, even when the subject is someone they admire deeply.
- Keep the writer's voice separate from the subject's
- Do not announce plans you cannot confirm
- Stay plainly independent
None of these mistakes is dramatic, and each can be avoided with patience: start from the work, quote only what can be traced, describe instead of applauding, give a career its real length, remember the place, and keep our own voice. A good profile leaves a reader curious enough to go and listen, read or look for themselves, and that is the quiet aim of every portrait in this department.