My name is Hope Blanchard, and I’m a country-pop musician. Ten years from now, I hope I won’t have to say that or to introduce myself at all. I’m hoping Hope Blanchard will be a household name.
I have a lot of goals: I want to be on all the music charts, I want to win Grammys, I want to play stadiums. I want to sell out stadiums. I’m doing whatever it takes to make that happen, and since 2019, “whatever it takes” has meant leaving my “normal” life behind. But let me back up for a minute to explain that singing—wanting to do it everywhere, all the time—is something I feel in my soul. When I was little, I would invite people to my grandparents’ house for dinner so I could corner them and perform. I never got great grades in school (I’m dyslexic), but making music has always made me feel smart. No matter the stage, every time I get off it, I’m thinking about the next time I can get back on again. It just feels right, and I want to reach people with my songs, just like artists like Taylor Swift reached me as a girl.
I married my husband, Mitch, who’s also a musician, when I was 18. We lived in a house in his home state of Iowa for a year before moving into a one-bedroom apartment in Nashville so we could be closer to the music industry. But Nashville rents are expensive, and we found ourselves exhausted from long days of managing other musicians to make money and from long nights at the studio working on our own music. I knew it wasn’t sustainable. I was barely focusing on my own passion, and paying for a place we barely spent any time at felt like a mistake.
I’d been seeing this trend on Pinterest where people live in vans so they can travel full-time. And one day it hit me: Why couldn’t we do that too? Except instead of traveling, we could stay in Nashville, using our income for recording instead of rent. (FYI, making an album is super expensive. Mine cost $20,000.) I showed Mitch some Pinterest pictures, and within minutes, we were on the phone with a dealership. I remember bawling because I was just so excited by the potential of it all. A few days later, we were test-driving vans, and by the end of the month, just before my 20th birthday, we were driving to Ohio to buy one (after convincing our parents we weren’t out of our minds).
Moving into a literal van is not easy. I had arrived at our first house in Iowa with 10 tote bags full of shoes—no exaggeration; I love cowboy boots—and even though we’d already scaled down for Nashville, fitting our entire lives into 70 square feet was stressful as hell. To make it work, we sold pretty much everything we owned: most of our clothes, our furniture, our car. Then we built out the van ourselves, relying on YouTube videos and luck. (The day Mitch cut a hole in the roof to install a vent fan was…terrifying.)
It’s certainly not luxurious, but now, that van is home. It’s basically a bed with a kitchen. There’s a toilet too, but we only use it for emergencies. I shower at whichever Planet Fitness location is closest to me that day or at the music studio, where I spend a lot of my time. Most nights, we sleep outside a Cracker Barrel or Walmart (fun fact: both tend to offer free RV parking in their lots). I still help manage two artists in order to bring in some money, but otherwise, I get to spend all day, every day writing and recording music and performing wherever I can. (No need to budget for a hotel room on tour when you have a van!)
I put out my first EP in September 2021. It’s a mix of five songs—some are perfect for tipsy nights at the bar; others speak to my hopefully relatable past struggles. I’m also releasing a new single this June that will be on my next EP. And earlier this year, we shot and edited three music videos in just three weeks (like, what?). I never would have been able to do any of this if we were still living a more traditional life. I’m just so proud of what I’ve been able to accomplish since going all in on myself.
People I meet around town always say, “Oh, I’m so sorry,” when I tell them that I live in a van. But I know that’s because they don’t understand that this was a choice. I still make decent money—I’m just opting to invest it in myself instead of stuff. Sure, I miss decorating, hoarding accessories, and having a backyard, and I can’t exactly spread out and watch all the Netflix I want, but these are sacrifices I’m willing to make. I get to chase my dream, and I’ve never been happier.
I may not have thousands of monthly Spotify listeners or that Grammy just yet, but every day, I feel like I’m getting a little closer to seeing my name in lights. And if you’ve read this far, maybe you’ll want to hear my music and you’ll remember my name. It’s Hope for a reason.
