Thursday, February 28, 2013
Friday, February 22, 2013
Audiobook Adventures: Week Six
Here we are, talking about recording audiobooks again.
So, remember how I said last time that I had been letting some of my book duties slide, and concentrating on the ones that were more fun? I may or may not have voiced my fear that eventually the deadlines would sneak up on me, and I'd have no more time to slack off. Well, it's a valid concern, but it must not be a major one, because instead of working on my current projects, I spent last night auditioning for new ones.
As it stands, I have had six contracts. One was for a short story I have completed and have been paid for. Another was for a short story I have already recorded, and am slowly editing. Another had the first fifteen minutes submitted and are awaiting approval. Two were for the same agent, and I did resume work on one of them this week. One of the novels I accepted I have recorded completely, and have been uploading the chapters as I finish editing them. I accepted two more project offers today, which brings me to eight total.
This may be madness, but it's also an extension of what I said before. It's fun to read about new projects, and send in my auditions for them. What's not fun is sitting in the dark, editing out mouth noises, breaths, and trying to fix stutters, or worse, microphone sounds. But that's the part of the job I can do anytime; I have to have silence to actually record audio, and in a house with two children (and three miles from an airport), it's sometimes hard to find that silence.
I oughta just concentrate on one piece, work on just that, finish it, and then plug it here. That would be new, to be able to talk about the art instead of the work. It would also be fun to talk about the projects I've done on my podcast, as they become available.
I will try that, with the book I have recorded. Hopefully, it'll be done and awaiting approval by the time I next blog.
Oh, and yes, here's more nonsense. I almost forgot.
Rish Outfield, Audiobook Narrator
So, remember how I said last time that I had been letting some of my book duties slide, and concentrating on the ones that were more fun? I may or may not have voiced my fear that eventually the deadlines would sneak up on me, and I'd have no more time to slack off. Well, it's a valid concern, but it must not be a major one, because instead of working on my current projects, I spent last night auditioning for new ones.
As it stands, I have had six contracts. One was for a short story I have completed and have been paid for. Another was for a short story I have already recorded, and am slowly editing. Another had the first fifteen minutes submitted and are awaiting approval. Two were for the same agent, and I did resume work on one of them this week. One of the novels I accepted I have recorded completely, and have been uploading the chapters as I finish editing them. I accepted two more project offers today, which brings me to eight total.
This may be madness, but it's also an extension of what I said before. It's fun to read about new projects, and send in my auditions for them. What's not fun is sitting in the dark, editing out mouth noises, breaths, and trying to fix stutters, or worse, microphone sounds. But that's the part of the job I can do anytime; I have to have silence to actually record audio, and in a house with two children (and three miles from an airport), it's sometimes hard to find that silence.
I oughta just concentrate on one piece, work on just that, finish it, and then plug it here. That would be new, to be able to talk about the art instead of the work. It would also be fun to talk about the projects I've done on my podcast, as they become available.
I will try that, with the book I have recorded. Hopefully, it'll be done and awaiting approval by the time I next blog.
Oh, and yes, here's more nonsense. I almost forgot.
Rish Outfield, Audiobook Narrator
Thursday, February 21, 2013
Loss in Translation
This is a topic I'll probably talk about with Big in an upcoming episode, since we chat so often about writing (heck, I may have already talked about it and forgotten), but I haven't been blogging about anything other than audiobook reading, so I figured I'd go ahead.
I was recently invited to be the "featured writer of the month" for a horror podcast, which basically selecting a story and performing it for a show that will, coincidentally, air on my birthday. I thought it was pretty freaking cool that someone would give me the honor, so I immediately tried to think of a story that was a) appropriate for the show, b) potentially effective with me doing all the voices, and c) short enough to qualify for their guidelines.
Ultimately, I thought it would be best for me if I wrote a new story, since it accomplished two nice personal goals that way. I started to think about it, to come up with a horror story that would work. Of course, it being me, I ended up coming up with the same story I always write*, just set in a desert instead of the woods.**
But I was pretty thrilled with this version of that old story. In my head, the pieces started to come together, and in a drive to Jeff's house, I had the beginning, middle, and end, and two twists, one good and one bad. It feels great to create, and I was pretty happy with this one.
BUT . . . I'd not actually accomplished anything yet. As I've discovered over the decades, my brain is really good at coming up with scenes, interchanges, scenarios, and even endings, but it's up to my body to write them down. And it's not just writing them down that's needed. Somehow, I have to translate the images and blobs of thoughts in my head to words, specific words in a specific order, restructuring those amorphous ideas into something concrete, something specific.
And therein lies the rub, sir and ma'am. I think--Think, mind you, with a capital T--that this is a really good idea for a story, basically three students unloosing something evil, and a really good angle at telling it, basically a lonely old man going back to the place where his life fell apart, just wanting to see her face once more before he dies. It has the potential to be both scary and impactful, and I have something personal to say about it, since I am that old man, just with more hair.
But how do I tell the story? Do I start with them young, then move linearly to the old man's story? Which is the main story and which is the coda/prologue? How much dialogue and interchange can there be in there and still fit into the podcast's time requirement? Does my original unhappy ending work, if I really think about it (ultimately, I decided it did, with a minor tweak)? Do I have to end it unhappily? Is the story even scary? What do I name the ancient evil? How about the character names? Can I refer to erections in a story like this, since appears that half of America's population sees those as the true boogeymen in life?
This is a struggle I have with, say, one in three or four of my stories. Usually, I just write them, thinking, "This might be a cool story, let's see what happens." But every once in a while (heck, it might be rarer than one in four), I come up with something and think, "This is great! Wow, did I come up with this?" And then have the uphill climb of making the great idea into a great story.
In the last year, I wrote two stories like that, both based on great ideas I had bouncing around in my head.*** The first, "The Calling," came to me while driving down to my cousin Ryan's house. It felt like my brain was playing Tetris, or putting a puzzle together in my head, and I was all but bursting to talk about it when I got there. I told him the story, from beginning to end, and he replied, "That's pretty cool. Was that a movie you were describing?" I guess that was a compliment. I tried hard when writing that one out to keep it tight and rein in my excesses, but it ended up being pretty long. My biggest challenge on that one was to figure out how to convey the enormous amount of exposition I had without just relying on what Abbie Hilton calls an Info Dump. I came up with a structure I was happy with, and basically created three separate info dumps, which I hope didn't bother anybody.
"The Calling" was really well-received, as far as it's been read, and I suppose that means I was able to translate the great idea to a great(ish) story. Mission accomplished.
The second story was about a kid in a casino and his best friend, playing Texas Hold Em, and the kid has had too much to drink. It was a horror story that I, unwisely, chose to call "Know When To Walk Away, Know When To Run." It was another great idea in my head, but as I wrote this one out, it just wasn't working. It was short and sweet in my imagination, and really scary. On paper (or on pixels, I suppose, since I never printed it or wrote it longhand), it just didn't work. It wasn't as sad or confused as I wanted it, and it certainly wasn't scary. I couldn't figure out how to fix it, either.
I consider that one to be a failure, although at least one person who read it said that he liked it. And as sad as I am about that, I keep referring back to it in conversation and my podcasts, as if I learned something from it. And what I learned was: it's hard to translate something from my head into written English.
So, back to the Great Idea at hand. I think I know the structure I want to tell it in (basically bookends with the present, and the majority of it told in the past), and it seems like I can keep it short, even with a paragraph or three about loneliness (and yes, one sentence about erections). I believe I'll try to make it a horror story with dramatic elements, rather than the opposite, which it could easily switch to. I think I'll call it "Unreleased," which for once is not a pop song title, and I'm certain I can write it out, revise it, record it, and have it edited by my June deadline.
Whether it becomes a Great Story, however, is up in the air.
Rish Outfield, Writer
*This is an oversimplification. I think I probably write three stories over and over, but this was definitely one of them.
**Sadly, it looks like this one is going to start in the woods too. Guess that makes me a hack.
***I originally had "great ideas" in quotation marks, but eff it, they were great ideas.
I was recently invited to be the "featured writer of the month" for a horror podcast, which basically selecting a story and performing it for a show that will, coincidentally, air on my birthday. I thought it was pretty freaking cool that someone would give me the honor, so I immediately tried to think of a story that was a) appropriate for the show, b) potentially effective with me doing all the voices, and c) short enough to qualify for their guidelines.
Ultimately, I thought it would be best for me if I wrote a new story, since it accomplished two nice personal goals that way. I started to think about it, to come up with a horror story that would work. Of course, it being me, I ended up coming up with the same story I always write*, just set in a desert instead of the woods.**
But I was pretty thrilled with this version of that old story. In my head, the pieces started to come together, and in a drive to Jeff's house, I had the beginning, middle, and end, and two twists, one good and one bad. It feels great to create, and I was pretty happy with this one.
BUT . . . I'd not actually accomplished anything yet. As I've discovered over the decades, my brain is really good at coming up with scenes, interchanges, scenarios, and even endings, but it's up to my body to write them down. And it's not just writing them down that's needed. Somehow, I have to translate the images and blobs of thoughts in my head to words, specific words in a specific order, restructuring those amorphous ideas into something concrete, something specific.
And therein lies the rub, sir and ma'am. I think--Think, mind you, with a capital T--that this is a really good idea for a story, basically three students unloosing something evil, and a really good angle at telling it, basically a lonely old man going back to the place where his life fell apart, just wanting to see her face once more before he dies. It has the potential to be both scary and impactful, and I have something personal to say about it, since I am that old man, just with more hair.
But how do I tell the story? Do I start with them young, then move linearly to the old man's story? Which is the main story and which is the coda/prologue? How much dialogue and interchange can there be in there and still fit into the podcast's time requirement? Does my original unhappy ending work, if I really think about it (ultimately, I decided it did, with a minor tweak)? Do I have to end it unhappily? Is the story even scary? What do I name the ancient evil? How about the character names? Can I refer to erections in a story like this, since appears that half of America's population sees those as the true boogeymen in life?
This is a struggle I have with, say, one in three or four of my stories. Usually, I just write them, thinking, "This might be a cool story, let's see what happens." But every once in a while (heck, it might be rarer than one in four), I come up with something and think, "This is great! Wow, did I come up with this?" And then have the uphill climb of making the great idea into a great story.
In the last year, I wrote two stories like that, both based on great ideas I had bouncing around in my head.*** The first, "The Calling," came to me while driving down to my cousin Ryan's house. It felt like my brain was playing Tetris, or putting a puzzle together in my head, and I was all but bursting to talk about it when I got there. I told him the story, from beginning to end, and he replied, "That's pretty cool. Was that a movie you were describing?" I guess that was a compliment. I tried hard when writing that one out to keep it tight and rein in my excesses, but it ended up being pretty long. My biggest challenge on that one was to figure out how to convey the enormous amount of exposition I had without just relying on what Abbie Hilton calls an Info Dump. I came up with a structure I was happy with, and basically created three separate info dumps, which I hope didn't bother anybody.
"The Calling" was really well-received, as far as it's been read, and I suppose that means I was able to translate the great idea to a great(ish) story. Mission accomplished.
The second story was about a kid in a casino and his best friend, playing Texas Hold Em, and the kid has had too much to drink. It was a horror story that I, unwisely, chose to call "Know When To Walk Away, Know When To Run." It was another great idea in my head, but as I wrote this one out, it just wasn't working. It was short and sweet in my imagination, and really scary. On paper (or on pixels, I suppose, since I never printed it or wrote it longhand), it just didn't work. It wasn't as sad or confused as I wanted it, and it certainly wasn't scary. I couldn't figure out how to fix it, either.
I consider that one to be a failure, although at least one person who read it said that he liked it. And as sad as I am about that, I keep referring back to it in conversation and my podcasts, as if I learned something from it. And what I learned was: it's hard to translate something from my head into written English.
So, back to the Great Idea at hand. I think I know the structure I want to tell it in (basically bookends with the present, and the majority of it told in the past), and it seems like I can keep it short, even with a paragraph or three about loneliness (and yes, one sentence about erections). I believe I'll try to make it a horror story with dramatic elements, rather than the opposite, which it could easily switch to. I think I'll call it "Unreleased," which for once is not a pop song title, and I'm certain I can write it out, revise it, record it, and have it edited by my June deadline.
Whether it becomes a Great Story, however, is up in the air.
Rish Outfield, Writer
*This is an oversimplification. I think I probably write three stories over and over, but this was definitely one of them.
**Sadly, it looks like this one is going to start in the woods too. Guess that makes me a hack.
***I originally had "great ideas" in quotation marks, but eff it, they were great ideas.
Friday, February 15, 2013
Audiobook Adventures: Week Five
So, I've been at this for over a month now, and it's been a learning experience. I originally wrote an insanely long blogpost last week that talked about my accomplishments and struggles, then talked about auditions, but I split it up so it didn't read too much like a novel. Here's the second part.
I probably said this before, but I really feel like, if I could do this for a living, it would be something I could do well, and would be a great fit for my particular talents. Of course, every job is work, and even if you love what you do initially, you find that wanting to do something and having to do something feel very different. Because I currently have an out-of-character positive attitude about this, I've been sending out quite a few auditions.
Auditioning is something I have never enjoyed, and never being very good at. Over the years, I auditioned for a handful of plays, and a couple of movies and TV shows, and it unnerved and depressed me. I hate putting myself out there for others to judge, and it probably shows, since I never got much real work from auditions. I imagine wearing a Speedo on the beach is a similar experience, though you might at least get a tan doing that.
In audio, though, I can be anyone. I can pretend to be tall and muscular, I can pretend to be English or from a big city, I can pretend to be an older man or a teenager, I can pretend to be cool, handsome, and confident, I can pretend that my schwanzstugger just barely fits in my Speedo. It is freeing and empowering, and I've auditioned for many audio dramas over the last two years, actually winning a couple of sought-after roles.*
The audition process for Audible.com is really easy and straight-forward, and I have submitted over a dozen. Last night, I discovered one where they were recording in audio a bunch of horror stories written for pulp magazines in the '30s, and I was so excited about it that I didn't go to bed until after four, trying to get mine recorded, edited, and submitted before I went to sleep.
I don't think I got the job, which my ego can barely comprehend, but I did get a mysterious email from the rights holder that may lead to more work. We'll see.
When I first discussed this with her, Renee Chambliss told me there was initially no self-published work available to record for Audible.com, because they were trying to keep the quality of the material they offered high. But now, greed must have softened their lil' hearts, because that has recently changed, and Renee told me to make sure I read things through before I volunteered to record them.
I had one I was auditioning for last weekend that was so full of bad grammar and nonsensical sentences, that I finally had to stop recording and simply abandon it. If I agreed to produce it--and I can't imagine any actual professionals beating me to it--in addition to reading and editing, I'd have to go through and insert commas where there were none, and fix sentences and bad phrasing so that it sounded natural. So that it sounded like English.
And even if I were willing to do that (which I'm not), does bad writing make me sound like a bad narrator? I wonder if it's possible to do harm to myself by accepting everything that comes my way. After all, Renee said she regretted producing one of the books she's done. But at the same time, there was one I saw the other day that said that while the book was weak, her narration was excellent. So I don't know.
Which reminds me, I got an invitation to record a romantic short story (the subgenre was Big's favorite, the "Paranormal Romance"), and I considered turning it down. It's told from the female lead's point of view (it's a little like that Meg Ryan/Hugh Jackman movie from a decade ago, I forget the title, but Sting got an Oscar nomination for the theme song), and is awfully sweet and x-chromosomey.
I sent the writer an honest email, telling her that, while I would do the work if she really wanted me to, in reading it over, I felt it would work better with a female narrator, and that listeners would be jarred every time I voiced the main girl's thoughts, in my "oh-so-manly" voice. Somebody like Renee or Scribe would make it work better, or if we could do it with a full cast, it would be perfect.
We'll see what the author says.
***
I initially wrote that last week, and have since heard from the writer. She agreed with me, and said that if I had a woman around me, I'd be unstoppable. I'm not sure what that means, but she did end up giving the part to someone else. I don't regret that, since it would have sounded awkward to have me reading it, like getting Sir John Gielgud to record a Western, or Val Kilmer to read a Batman book. Optimally, a man and a woman in the same studio, alternating between male and female characters on the same recording would be an incredible achievement. But to do it separately, with, say, Renee recording in California, and me recording here, then having to edit the two together would be a Herculean achievement. I'd do it for a short story, yeah, but a novel would be dealbreakingly difficult.
It's hard to determine how much work to put into this. I've currently got several projects in differing states of completion. Obviously, the ones with the closest deadlines will probably get the most attention, but I have been trying to cycle through every single one of them, recording a chapter on one today, editing a chapter on another tomorrow, etc. As I said when I got my first contract, they give us plenty of time to get these bad boys done, but I have to admit that there are a couple that I give more attention to than others. And the criteria for that choice is simple: which one is more fun?
That's no way to run a business, I know. I'm frankly still a bit sore about the multiple rejections I got from the agent, however deserved they were, and I haven't touched one of those projects in going on three weeks. That can't be professional (which is ironic, since the reason I nearly canceled the contract was because I didn't like being told my work was nowhere near a professional level). There are literally hundreds of things that compete for my attention, each and every day. I am not good at sticking with a task. Heck, I've got four files open right now, in a state of mid-edit (one story, one novel, one Dunesteef, and one for bloopers), and instead of working on any of them, I'm typing on my blog.
Alright, I've convinced myself. I'm going to open a fifth file, the one I've left alone since January. I'll work on it for an hour or so. Who knows, maybe it'll be fun again.
Rish Outfield, Audiobook Narrator
*Though not the one I really wanted on the "Firefly" podcast, which as far as I know, never even aired a single episode.
I probably said this before, but I really feel like, if I could do this for a living, it would be something I could do well, and would be a great fit for my particular talents. Of course, every job is work, and even if you love what you do initially, you find that wanting to do something and having to do something feel very different. Because I currently have an out-of-character positive attitude about this, I've been sending out quite a few auditions.
Auditioning is something I have never enjoyed, and never being very good at. Over the years, I auditioned for a handful of plays, and a couple of movies and TV shows, and it unnerved and depressed me. I hate putting myself out there for others to judge, and it probably shows, since I never got much real work from auditions. I imagine wearing a Speedo on the beach is a similar experience, though you might at least get a tan doing that.
In audio, though, I can be anyone. I can pretend to be tall and muscular, I can pretend to be English or from a big city, I can pretend to be an older man or a teenager, I can pretend to be cool, handsome, and confident, I can pretend that my schwanzstugger just barely fits in my Speedo. It is freeing and empowering, and I've auditioned for many audio dramas over the last two years, actually winning a couple of sought-after roles.*
The audition process for Audible.com is really easy and straight-forward, and I have submitted over a dozen. Last night, I discovered one where they were recording in audio a bunch of horror stories written for pulp magazines in the '30s, and I was so excited about it that I didn't go to bed until after four, trying to get mine recorded, edited, and submitted before I went to sleep.
I don't think I got the job, which my ego can barely comprehend, but I did get a mysterious email from the rights holder that may lead to more work. We'll see.
When I first discussed this with her, Renee Chambliss told me there was initially no self-published work available to record for Audible.com, because they were trying to keep the quality of the material they offered high. But now, greed must have softened their lil' hearts, because that has recently changed, and Renee told me to make sure I read things through before I volunteered to record them.
I had one I was auditioning for last weekend that was so full of bad grammar and nonsensical sentences, that I finally had to stop recording and simply abandon it. If I agreed to produce it--and I can't imagine any actual professionals beating me to it--in addition to reading and editing, I'd have to go through and insert commas where there were none, and fix sentences and bad phrasing so that it sounded natural. So that it sounded like English.
And even if I were willing to do that (which I'm not), does bad writing make me sound like a bad narrator? I wonder if it's possible to do harm to myself by accepting everything that comes my way. After all, Renee said she regretted producing one of the books she's done. But at the same time, there was one I saw the other day that said that while the book was weak, her narration was excellent. So I don't know.
Which reminds me, I got an invitation to record a romantic short story (the subgenre was Big's favorite, the "Paranormal Romance"), and I considered turning it down. It's told from the female lead's point of view (it's a little like that Meg Ryan/Hugh Jackman movie from a decade ago, I forget the title, but Sting got an Oscar nomination for the theme song), and is awfully sweet and x-chromosomey.
I sent the writer an honest email, telling her that, while I would do the work if she really wanted me to, in reading it over, I felt it would work better with a female narrator, and that listeners would be jarred every time I voiced the main girl's thoughts, in my "oh-so-manly" voice. Somebody like Renee or Scribe would make it work better, or if we could do it with a full cast, it would be perfect.
We'll see what the author says.
***
I initially wrote that last week, and have since heard from the writer. She agreed with me, and said that if I had a woman around me, I'd be unstoppable. I'm not sure what that means, but she did end up giving the part to someone else. I don't regret that, since it would have sounded awkward to have me reading it, like getting Sir John Gielgud to record a Western, or Val Kilmer to read a Batman book. Optimally, a man and a woman in the same studio, alternating between male and female characters on the same recording would be an incredible achievement. But to do it separately, with, say, Renee recording in California, and me recording here, then having to edit the two together would be a Herculean achievement. I'd do it for a short story, yeah, but a novel would be dealbreakingly difficult.
It's hard to determine how much work to put into this. I've currently got several projects in differing states of completion. Obviously, the ones with the closest deadlines will probably get the most attention, but I have been trying to cycle through every single one of them, recording a chapter on one today, editing a chapter on another tomorrow, etc. As I said when I got my first contract, they give us plenty of time to get these bad boys done, but I have to admit that there are a couple that I give more attention to than others. And the criteria for that choice is simple: which one is more fun?
That's no way to run a business, I know. I'm frankly still a bit sore about the multiple rejections I got from the agent, however deserved they were, and I haven't touched one of those projects in going on three weeks. That can't be professional (which is ironic, since the reason I nearly canceled the contract was because I didn't like being told my work was nowhere near a professional level). There are literally hundreds of things that compete for my attention, each and every day. I am not good at sticking with a task. Heck, I've got four files open right now, in a state of mid-edit (one story, one novel, one Dunesteef, and one for bloopers), and instead of working on any of them, I'm typing on my blog.
Alright, I've convinced myself. I'm going to open a fifth file, the one I've left alone since January. I'll work on it for an hour or so. Who knows, maybe it'll be fun again.
Rish Outfield, Audiobook Narrator
*Though not the one I really wanted on the "Firefly" podcast, which as far as I know, never even aired a single episode.
Friday, February 08, 2013
Audiobook Adventures: Week Four
Hard to believe I've been doing this for a month now. But for me, anything I start and am still doing four weeks later has to be an achievement. I even stopped killing drifters a while back, and have not resumed the pastime . . . yet.
So, this week, I actually had two milestones of sorts. The first was that I finished recording and editing one of the projects. It was a short story, so it wasn't a monumental achievement, but I recorded it, and spent several hours trying to get it in perfect shape (which, I'm sorry to say, was just not possible, not unless I wanted to re-record a couple of lines here and there, and then have them not quite match the dialogue around them, which would, again, prevent perfection), and finally uploaded it all yesterday. If all is accepted, it will be out there for absolutely no one to listen to within weeks.
The second milestone was concerning that agent I had been dealing with since my very first day with the company. She sent me two contracts, but I was never able to get her a sample that could please her. I believe I mentioned that I went out and got a new cord, and recorded the first chapter for the third time, edited it, and sent it to her, adding a note that I was satisfied she would be satisfied with it this time.
Alas, she was not. She said there was still too much background noise, and when I played the sample back on my system, I heard nothing. I had submitted two other fifteen minute samples to other authors, and neither of them said anything about any noise, instead showering me with praise and giving me the go-ahead to finish the recordings..
I threw my hands up in the air (probably just metaphorically, since I'm more of a kicker than a hand-thrower), and sent the file to Big Anklevich to see if he heard any noise. He listened with headphones, suggesting I do the same, and sure enough, there was the sound of my computer fan mucking things up for me. But he was able to isolate and eliminate that sound, and when I sent the file in that he had cleaned . . . I finally, amazingly, had the sample accepted.
This was good news, except . . .
Except that I was now at the mercy of my friend, my generous, but busy and overworked friend. I have been in partnerships before where I was able to do a ton of work, but I had to depend on another for that work to go anywhere. And it sucks, because I can't really accomplish what I need to that way. And this audio work was intended to be something I could do myself, whenever I got some free time and (much rarer) ambition, without having to depend on anybody else. Guess I don't play well with others.*
I sent Big a couple other recordings, asking him to clean them up for me. In the meantime, I tried it out myself, attempting to replicate what he did, this time using the other story sample the agent had rejected. It was just a matter of lifting out the subtle sound of the computer hum, but not so much that my reading sounded garbled. I sent in my cleaned-up version, and this too was accepted by the agent (although she did mention that my sample didn't sound as good as my friend's, which I disagree with about a hundred and twenty-seven percent, but ah well).
So, I'm finally going forward with those two projects (one of which I've read the first chapter of four times, and never read further), and I hope to have those two finished before February is over.
This has the potential to be good for me. I have five contracts to do work so far, and an author told me she liked my audition and had something she wanted to hire me to record for her after the weekend.
So, this has been a good week, and I'm looking forward to the next one. I am enjoying it, for the most part, and I know a lot of people can't say that about their work.
Rish Outfield, Audiobook Guy
*This is also a stumbling block for me when it comes to self-publishing my stories. I've had a couple of people say they'd be happy to put something together for me and see if I couldn't sell my writing on the internet somewhere, and while I appreciate that, what I need is to find a template where I could enter the text of the story/stories, upload/draw something for cover art, and put it out to be purchased myself. That way, I could proofread a story, and put it up to be purchased every month or so. If it didn't sell, ah well, but if it did, I'd be motivated to put up another one, or a collection, or write new stories solely for the purpose of self-publishing them.
As it stands, I can't depend on others to do it, no matter how generous they are with their time. Without knowing how to do it myself, it's doubtful I'll get any of my work out there. It's more likely that you and Taylor Swift will ever, ever get back together
So, this week, I actually had two milestones of sorts. The first was that I finished recording and editing one of the projects. It was a short story, so it wasn't a monumental achievement, but I recorded it, and spent several hours trying to get it in perfect shape (which, I'm sorry to say, was just not possible, not unless I wanted to re-record a couple of lines here and there, and then have them not quite match the dialogue around them, which would, again, prevent perfection), and finally uploaded it all yesterday. If all is accepted, it will be out there for absolutely no one to listen to within weeks.
The second milestone was concerning that agent I had been dealing with since my very first day with the company. She sent me two contracts, but I was never able to get her a sample that could please her. I believe I mentioned that I went out and got a new cord, and recorded the first chapter for the third time, edited it, and sent it to her, adding a note that I was satisfied she would be satisfied with it this time.
Alas, she was not. She said there was still too much background noise, and when I played the sample back on my system, I heard nothing. I had submitted two other fifteen minute samples to other authors, and neither of them said anything about any noise, instead showering me with praise and giving me the go-ahead to finish the recordings..
I threw my hands up in the air (probably just metaphorically, since I'm more of a kicker than a hand-thrower), and sent the file to Big Anklevich to see if he heard any noise. He listened with headphones, suggesting I do the same, and sure enough, there was the sound of my computer fan mucking things up for me. But he was able to isolate and eliminate that sound, and when I sent the file in that he had cleaned . . . I finally, amazingly, had the sample accepted.
This was good news, except . . .
Except that I was now at the mercy of my friend, my generous, but busy and overworked friend. I have been in partnerships before where I was able to do a ton of work, but I had to depend on another for that work to go anywhere. And it sucks, because I can't really accomplish what I need to that way. And this audio work was intended to be something I could do myself, whenever I got some free time and (much rarer) ambition, without having to depend on anybody else. Guess I don't play well with others.*
I sent Big a couple other recordings, asking him to clean them up for me. In the meantime, I tried it out myself, attempting to replicate what he did, this time using the other story sample the agent had rejected. It was just a matter of lifting out the subtle sound of the computer hum, but not so much that my reading sounded garbled. I sent in my cleaned-up version, and this too was accepted by the agent (although she did mention that my sample didn't sound as good as my friend's, which I disagree with about a hundred and twenty-seven percent, but ah well).
So, I'm finally going forward with those two projects (one of which I've read the first chapter of four times, and never read further), and I hope to have those two finished before February is over.
So, this has been a good week, and I'm looking forward to the next one. I am enjoying it, for the most part, and I know a lot of people can't say that about their work.
Rish Outfield, Audiobook Guy
*This is also a stumbling block for me when it comes to self-publishing my stories. I've had a couple of people say they'd be happy to put something together for me and see if I couldn't sell my writing on the internet somewhere, and while I appreciate that, what I need is to find a template where I could enter the text of the story/stories, upload/draw something for cover art, and put it out to be purchased myself. That way, I could proofread a story, and put it up to be purchased every month or so. If it didn't sell, ah well, but if it did, I'd be motivated to put up another one, or a collection, or write new stories solely for the purpose of self-publishing them.
As it stands, I can't depend on others to do it, no matter how generous they are with their time. Without knowing how to do it myself, it's doubtful I'll get any of my work out there. It's more likely that you and Taylor Swift will ever, ever get back together
Friday, February 01, 2013
Audiobook Adventures Part 3
So, this is my third week, trying to be an actual, professional audio book narrator. On the positive side, I got a contract sent to me to do my fourth book* and I'm starting that one today. It seems easier than the others, since it's closer to the sort of stuff I write, which I'll elaborate on when I've finished it), and is not long.
On the negative side, the agent that rejected my first three fifteen minute samples hasn't gotten back to me on my "final" reading. She did send me an email asking if I was going to send in another fifteen minutes for the second book they contracted me to record, though. I, however, wanted to hear if my newest attempt passed or failed before I recorded anything else for her. I said "final" in quotes above (though I suppose I could have capitalized it) because I decided not to do it a fifth time if the fourth was rejected. They could go ahead and give their zero dollars to somebody else, you know?
It's been a learning experience. I have found that there is a bit more to doing these recordings than just an unbelievable, nearly-unearthly talent for voice work. Apparently, you must also have equipment that does not suck, a quiet (preferably silent) work environment, patience, and the ability to inhale without making a sound, even in the middle of character acting.
Did I mention patience?
The bit of instruction Big and I stress most often to writers who want to read for audio is to READ THE PIECE ALOUD before considering it done, or worse, sending it out for publication. In these readings, I have discovered a number of typos, incorrect words, and a sad couple of sentences that make no sense. I've been noting them down to send to the authors, because I would want someone to bring that to my attention if it were one of my stories/books. I did hear back from one writer, though, who said it was "a bit late" to make any changes, since, I don't know, the book was on shelves in every home in America, next to the Bible, "Treasure Island," and "Fifty Shades of Grey."
This weekend, I got to "The End" of my first recording. Which is to say, I got to the last page, since no audiobooks actually finish up with the words "the end." Yet another thing I will never get about professional narration (usually, they'll just go into the Author's Note or copyright legalese, and sometimes they'll say "you've been listening to 'I Know Now Why The Caged Butt Sings' by Gerald Q. Anklevich," or even "This is the end of 'To Mock a F**ckingbird' by Navin G. Marshall." But in what way is that better than "The End?").
The recording, before editing, was just over six hours long. I've now gotten it to 5:05. With final editing, I think it'll end up at four and a half, maybe shorter. My goal is to have that done this week, get it uploaded, and move on to the next one.
I believe I may have intimated (or outright said) that the author of this first book is not a published professional. If so, I didn't mean it the way it sounded. I merely meant that, in my first two contracts, I only dealt with the writer's agent, never with the writer herself, and this was someone who was representing himself, and who I assumed had self-published the book. I have since discovered that he's written several other works, many of which have been critically praised. I'd hate for him to think--or somebody who hears me talking about the process--that I think the book is poorly-written or unprofessional.
I'll talk about the book when I'm finished, but I really enjoyed narrating it, and I'm hoping it ends up being a fun listening experience for all involved.
Renee and Bryan both mentioned that there was a learning curve for them as they first began the process of audiobook reading, and Renee seemed outright embarrassed by her first recording, so, if I can keep up the . . . work (I nearly said "good work," but that just ain't me, despite my opening paragraph), I think the experience can get quicker and less painful.
We shall see.
Rish Outfield
*I had a feeling I'd get this one, since the author put the entire first chapter out there as his audition piece, and my guess is, very few would waste that kind of time just to audition. Of course, if you got the job, you'd already have your first fifteen minutes ready to upload.
On the negative side, the agent that rejected my first three fifteen minute samples hasn't gotten back to me on my "final" reading. She did send me an email asking if I was going to send in another fifteen minutes for the second book they contracted me to record, though. I, however, wanted to hear if my newest attempt passed or failed before I recorded anything else for her. I said "final" in quotes above (though I suppose I could have capitalized it) because I decided not to do it a fifth time if the fourth was rejected. They could go ahead and give their zero dollars to somebody else, you know?
It's been a learning experience. I have found that there is a bit more to doing these recordings than just an unbelievable, nearly-unearthly talent for voice work. Apparently, you must also have equipment that does not suck, a quiet (preferably silent) work environment, patience, and the ability to inhale without making a sound, even in the middle of character acting.
Did I mention patience?
The bit of instruction Big and I stress most often to writers who want to read for audio is to READ THE PIECE ALOUD before considering it done, or worse, sending it out for publication. In these readings, I have discovered a number of typos, incorrect words, and a sad couple of sentences that make no sense. I've been noting them down to send to the authors, because I would want someone to bring that to my attention if it were one of my stories/books. I did hear back from one writer, though, who said it was "a bit late" to make any changes, since, I don't know, the book was on shelves in every home in America, next to the Bible, "Treasure Island," and "Fifty Shades of Grey."
This weekend, I got to "The End" of my first recording. Which is to say, I got to the last page, since no audiobooks actually finish up with the words "the end." Yet another thing I will never get about professional narration (usually, they'll just go into the Author's Note or copyright legalese, and sometimes they'll say "you've been listening to 'I Know Now Why The Caged Butt Sings' by Gerald Q. Anklevich," or even "This is the end of 'To Mock a F**ckingbird' by Navin G. Marshall." But in what way is that better than "The End?").
The recording, before editing, was just over six hours long. I've now gotten it to 5:05. With final editing, I think it'll end up at four and a half, maybe shorter. My goal is to have that done this week, get it uploaded, and move on to the next one.
I believe I may have intimated (or outright said) that the author of this first book is not a published professional. If so, I didn't mean it the way it sounded. I merely meant that, in my first two contracts, I only dealt with the writer's agent, never with the writer herself, and this was someone who was representing himself, and who I assumed had self-published the book. I have since discovered that he's written several other works, many of which have been critically praised. I'd hate for him to think--or somebody who hears me talking about the process--that I think the book is poorly-written or unprofessional.
I'll talk about the book when I'm finished, but I really enjoyed narrating it, and I'm hoping it ends up being a fun listening experience for all involved.
Renee and Bryan both mentioned that there was a learning curve for them as they first began the process of audiobook reading, and Renee seemed outright embarrassed by her first recording, so, if I can keep up the . . . work (I nearly said "good work," but that just ain't me, despite my opening paragraph), I think the experience can get quicker and less painful.
We shall see.
Rish Outfield
*I had a feeling I'd get this one, since the author put the entire first chapter out there as his audition piece, and my guess is, very few would waste that kind of time just to audition. Of course, if you got the job, you'd already have your first fifteen minutes ready to upload.
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Monday, January 28, 2013
Rish Outfield: The Audiobook Adventure Continues
As I mentioned last week, I'm still struggling with this mad quest to do audiobooks for money. I have to admit that I pretty much fell into despair this week, when
1) the microphone jack on my computer stopped working, and then when I thought I'd gotten it going again,
2) there would be an inexplicable buzzing sound in the background of my recordings, one that only showed up on the recordings, but not when I was reading the books.
3) I spent hours cleaning up my fifteen minutes for my first book, and sent it in, only to have the agent mark down the timecode every time the buzzing could still be heard.
4) I was sure there was a short somewhere in the mic cord, so Big kindly bought me another one when we were together on Monday. The damn buzzing sound continued.
5) So, I asked Big if I could borrow his microphone, but it wouldn't work without his heavy-duty mixer.
6) I did my work over again, starting from the beginning, recording with the mic settings way up so I could lower the volume and mask the damn buzzing (henceforth referred to as TDB) if it came again . . . which it did.
7) The resulting recording, which went way farther than the first fifteen minutes of the book, ended up sounding worse to my ears than the first one did, but at least you couldn't hear TDB. I sent it in anyway, though now I wonder if I had lost all sense by doing that.
8) Of course I got a rejection email from the author's agent, where she said, "The sound quality is nowhere near the levels we expected it to be, and is inconsistent with the quality expected by Audible.com." For some reason, I went pretty much crazy over this email, and typed up a response that went something like, "Yes, I understand. I apologize for wasting so much of MY time."
But before I sent it, I went for a drive, seething and angry at the world. I had really, really tried to do this thing. And when I wasn't trying to keep the kids from screaming or running around or banging on my door, the phone was ringing, someone would turn the TV on, loud enough for the mic to hear it (perhaps even over the buzzing noise?).
I called Big on the phone and told him I was so frustrated I wanted to burn my bridges, and that I was going to Best Buy to buy another cord for the back of my computer, but if that didn't work, I would throw everything against the wall. He told me, "Just make sure you don't throw my microphone against the wall."
This made me even more furious, and I told him to go ahead and air the last episode of our show, because I was done with anything even remotely related to recording or podcasting. It was childish, sure, but I had warned him I was about to burn bridges.
I did get the plug at Best Buy, and hooked it up, and immediately, the sound quality seemed way better . . . but it did--inexplicably go out completely the next day. My guess is, there's a short in my microphone jack, or in the mixer itself, because there's no rhyme or reason as to when things go wrong.
It can be difficult enough to perform the written word when the equipment works perfectly, as in this shudder-inducing example:
But one of the authors actually okayed my submitted work, and that really buoyed up my confidence. He liked my audition, liked the voices I chose to do for his characters, and accepted the first fifteen minutes without complaints or delay. I never did respond to the rejection I got from the agent, and instead have been focusing on this guy's book.
I've been recording late at night, when everybody else has gone to sleep, but my voice tends to start getting strained or my brain starts to no longer process words at around the two o'clock/two-thirty mark. During the day, I try to edit what I've recorded, though I'll admit that it's less fun than editing Dunesteef episodes or readings for other podcasts (mostly because I probably see this as a job rather than something I'm doing for passion).
I'm now on page eighty-four, which isn't even halfway through, but I think it'll get done (barring any recurrence of TDB), and someday I can be on here asking people to go out and buy my reading. Fruitlessly asking, of course.
Rish Outfield, Narrator
1) the microphone jack on my computer stopped working, and then when I thought I'd gotten it going again,
2) there would be an inexplicable buzzing sound in the background of my recordings, one that only showed up on the recordings, but not when I was reading the books.
3) I spent hours cleaning up my fifteen minutes for my first book, and sent it in, only to have the agent mark down the timecode every time the buzzing could still be heard.
4) I was sure there was a short somewhere in the mic cord, so Big kindly bought me another one when we were together on Monday. The damn buzzing sound continued.
5) So, I asked Big if I could borrow his microphone, but it wouldn't work without his heavy-duty mixer.
6) I did my work over again, starting from the beginning, recording with the mic settings way up so I could lower the volume and mask the damn buzzing (henceforth referred to as TDB) if it came again . . . which it did.
7) The resulting recording, which went way farther than the first fifteen minutes of the book, ended up sounding worse to my ears than the first one did, but at least you couldn't hear TDB. I sent it in anyway, though now I wonder if I had lost all sense by doing that.
8) Of course I got a rejection email from the author's agent, where she said, "The sound quality is nowhere near the levels we expected it to be, and is inconsistent with the quality expected by Audible.com." For some reason, I went pretty much crazy over this email, and typed up a response that went something like, "Yes, I understand. I apologize for wasting so much of MY time."
But before I sent it, I went for a drive, seething and angry at the world. I had really, really tried to do this thing. And when I wasn't trying to keep the kids from screaming or running around or banging on my door, the phone was ringing, someone would turn the TV on, loud enough for the mic to hear it (perhaps even over the buzzing noise?).
I called Big on the phone and told him I was so frustrated I wanted to burn my bridges, and that I was going to Best Buy to buy another cord for the back of my computer, but if that didn't work, I would throw everything against the wall. He told me, "Just make sure you don't throw my microphone against the wall."
This made me even more furious, and I told him to go ahead and air the last episode of our show, because I was done with anything even remotely related to recording or podcasting. It was childish, sure, but I had warned him I was about to burn bridges.
I did get the plug at Best Buy, and hooked it up, and immediately, the sound quality seemed way better . . . but it did--inexplicably go out completely the next day. My guess is, there's a short in my microphone jack, or in the mixer itself, because there's no rhyme or reason as to when things go wrong.
It can be difficult enough to perform the written word when the equipment works perfectly, as in this shudder-inducing example:
But one of the authors actually okayed my submitted work, and that really buoyed up my confidence. He liked my audition, liked the voices I chose to do for his characters, and accepted the first fifteen minutes without complaints or delay. I never did respond to the rejection I got from the agent, and instead have been focusing on this guy's book.
I've been recording late at night, when everybody else has gone to sleep, but my voice tends to start getting strained or my brain starts to no longer process words at around the two o'clock/two-thirty mark. During the day, I try to edit what I've recorded, though I'll admit that it's less fun than editing Dunesteef episodes or readings for other podcasts (mostly because I probably see this as a job rather than something I'm doing for passion).
I'm now on page eighty-four, which isn't even halfway through, but I think it'll get done (barring any recurrence of TDB), and someday I can be on here asking people to go out and buy my reading. Fruitlessly asking, of course.
Rish Outfield, Narrator
Saturday, January 26, 2013
Babysitter of the Week
I still enjoy driving around with my nephew Kayden, even though now that he is five (and hyperactive), I find it more of a challenge to deal with him than I used to. This week, I took him for a drive to go look for Skylanders (I remember Joe Quesada, the recent Editor In Chief of Marvel, saying that "Comic books are basically crack, but for kids." But apparently, these Skylanders games/figures are that for the 21st Century), and we were playing a rhyming game where I'd say a word, and he'd have to come up with rhymes for it.
I'd been trying to get him to actually figure out rhymes for over a year, but he's just now figured it out. I'd say, "Tree," and he'd say, "Tree. Bee. Fee. Key." And the like until he'd say nonsense words and we'd go on to the next word.
So, we were driving along. I said, "House," and he said, "House. Louse. Mouse. Kowse. Towse." I said, "Hat," and he said, "Hat. Cat. Bat. Tat. Fat."
Suddenly, the van in front of me simply stopped in the middle of the road, so it could turn right, instead of slowing, signalling, and turning right as human beings are supposed to drive. I will admit that I was not paying attention, so it seemed much more sudden to me. I slammed on the brakes, and because of the slush on the road, we skidded a foot or two, coming to a stop maybe four inches away from hitting into the van.
The van never even noticed this happened, and went on its merry way.
"Shit!" I muttered.
"Shit," Kayden said from the back. "Bit. Mitt. Kit. Fit."
Uncle Rish Outfield
I'd been trying to get him to actually figure out rhymes for over a year, but he's just now figured it out. I'd say, "Tree," and he'd say, "Tree. Bee. Fee. Key." And the like until he'd say nonsense words and we'd go on to the next word.
So, we were driving along. I said, "House," and he said, "House. Louse. Mouse. Kowse. Towse." I said, "Hat," and he said, "Hat. Cat. Bat. Tat. Fat."
Suddenly, the van in front of me simply stopped in the middle of the road, so it could turn right, instead of slowing, signalling, and turning right as human beings are supposed to drive. I will admit that I was not paying attention, so it seemed much more sudden to me. I slammed on the brakes, and because of the slush on the road, we skidded a foot or two, coming to a stop maybe four inches away from hitting into the van.
The van never even noticed this happened, and went on its merry way.
"Shit!" I muttered.
"Shit," Kayden said from the back. "Bit. Mitt. Kit. Fit."
Uncle Rish Outfield
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Rish Outfield, Audiobook Reader
So, I think I mentioned recently that I had a conversation (or rather, witnessed one, since I didn't know what they were talking about) with Renee Chambliss and Bryan Lincoln about their professional audiobook reading. I was greatly impressed, but even more so, I was thinking, "Why the devil aren't I doing this for a living? I've been recording audiobooks for over a decade now, and while I may not be Scott Brick, this is something I could do, and do well."
Of course, I may have spoken prematurely.
After those days in Vegas, around such creative people who were actually doing things with their minds and voices, I found myself feeling at least a tad bit ambitious, and actually tried to get some work reading/narrating/performing the words of others. There's a list of books that are done and published that want someone to read them/perform them for Audible.com, and you can create a profile, upload audio samples, and audition for parts. It ended up taking a bit of time, but I was confident (for once) that the work would come.
In fact, I mentioned it to Big the other day that he too should be doing this, since he has the experience and talent, and a hell of a better microphone set-up than I do.
And I'd have said the sound quality was much less important than the reader (at the one technical panel I attended at NMX, the speaker said, "Nobody will ever listen to your podcast and say, 'Wow, they have great sound quality! I'm going to keep listening and see if their content improves.'"), but having gone over my recordings with a fine tooth ear, I'm actually Level One nervous again about sending the stuff in.
Oh wait, I've gotten ahead of myself. So, I sent in two auditions the first day, and two more on the second. I heard nothing more, so I sent in three or four more since then (which is a grind, since my PC won't read the files they've saved their auditions in, so I have to download them to my desktop, email them to myself, open the email on my craptop, read the audition from the craptop while recording on my PC). Maybe I should listen to a couple to see if the readers a--
Ah, who am I kidding? I know I'm at least as good as any random reader on Audible.com, if not better, since I'm a voice actor anyway, and have been editing audio every week for years now (they say you've gotta do something for a thousand hours to become an expert at it, right?).
I actually did get a couple of rejections. The first one was nice, and said she liked my reading, but the book is in a series, and she's already paying someone else to read the first book, so she'd like them all to have consistency (which I totally understand). The second rejection was, crazily-enough, from a writer we'd done a story by on the Dunesteef. He made no comment on that, nor my reading, but simply said the rights were tied up and he wasn't in a position to assign anybody to record his book right now.
Then, I got an acceptance letter, from a writer I'd actually heard of (to be honest, I think recognizing her name made me decide to see what the book was about, rather than just judging by the title alone). She liked my reading*, and asked if I would also consider reading the first book in a mystery series she has going, hoping that my voice would suit the whole run.
Well, this would make anybody else on earth happy, I would imagine, but I was worried about committing to two audiobooks at the same time, especially since the last time I'd tried narrating an entire book, I'd given up in the middle, after a year or so. I didn't know how much work it would be to record, then to edit, and how much time I'd have to do them in (Renee mentioned having a book due in two days, and needing to read for over twelve hours straight to meet her deadline, and I'll admit, it frightened me).
But when I looked at the contract, I have until the ides of bloody March to get the books in, so I was fretting over nothing.
The second step after obtaining the text to be read is to record a sample of (exactly?) fifteen minutes, get it into perfect shape, and send it in so they can make notes or request/demand changes.
There are a bunch of posted rules (i.e., hoops) set up for how to record, how to perform, how to save, how to edit, how to clean up the sound, and how one must space out speaking and silence (for example, there should be exactly one-half second before you start to speak on every file, and an interminable 3.5 seconds in between you saying "Chapter One" and "The psychotic toddler had taken yet another victim . . .").
This is a case where my own experience ends up helping me not at all. I'm used to doing work for myself, or for other podcasts. If it's up to my standards, chances are, it'll be up to theirs.** But this is for other people, who are wanting to sell the recordings, and who may care much less about whether I can convincingly sound like an old man than whether you can hear me take a breath between dialogue.
Bryan Lincoln warned me to toe the line, that my stuff had to be of top-notch sound quality, because I'd be competing with professional audiobook readers, in an airtight studio with those egg carton things on the walls, and a jagoff in the control room fiddling with a hundred knobs and thinking about billing rates.
So, I followed their rules, and right before sending the fifteen minute sample of the first book, I decided to go though it, listening carefully, and making it fit exactly into their listed specifications.
What I discovered was, that aside from the clicks, slurps, and breathing sounds I apparently make every time I read something (which I've never before discovered, for some reason), there was also an intermittent buzzing sound that could be heard, on and off, throughout the whole recording.
On my own show, I wouldn't give a single crap, but now, I was paranoid. Could I use background noise to mask the buzzing? Could I edit it out in some way? Could I re-record a sentence here or there to offset it? Could I turn the volume down on the recording for the parts where that sound could be heard? And could I send the sample in as-is (despite now spending an extra hour just trying to sweeten the fifteen minute sample), hoping they'd be listening for the quality of the reading rather than the quality of the recording . . . or did I need to sit down and do the whole thing a second time, making sure that whatever was making the buzzing (a short in the microphone cord is my chief suspect) was no longer there?
Well, I still haven't decided.
I went through the first fifteen minutes of the second reading, and it had no buzzing (though it had a buttload of clicks and breaths that I lift out, grimacing every time), and sent it in, figuring I'd wait to hear notes on the "clean" sample before even trying to get my "dirty" sample passed.
In the meantime, I figured I'd audition for one more book--this one apparently written by a seventeen year old who just discovered the magic of gory description--believing (rather arrogantly) that this guy will not mind a little buzzing and breathing.
I'll keep you posted.
Probably.
Maybe not.
We'll see.
Rish "Narrated By" Outfield
*And here's a rub, I never actually communicated with the author, but with her agent. So every time I asked a question about pronunciation, or tone, or accents, I knew that my message was getting forwarded on to the "talent," as it were, then back to the agent, then back to me. Unless agents just do it all nowadays, which it's totally possible they do.
**Of course, I'm reminded of the short story I edited for another show, where I put the spooky sounds of wind and rain in the background for ambience, only to have the editor of the show say, "There was a lot of background noise in your recording, coming from outside your studio, but after a bit of work, I got rid of it all."
Of course, I may have spoken prematurely.
After those days in Vegas, around such creative people who were actually doing things with their minds and voices, I found myself feeling at least a tad bit ambitious, and actually tried to get some work reading/narrating/performing the words of others. There's a list of books that are done and published that want someone to read them/perform them for Audible.com, and you can create a profile, upload audio samples, and audition for parts. It ended up taking a bit of time, but I was confident (for once) that the work would come.
In fact, I mentioned it to Big the other day that he too should be doing this, since he has the experience and talent, and a hell of a better microphone set-up than I do.
And I'd have said the sound quality was much less important than the reader (at the one technical panel I attended at NMX, the speaker said, "Nobody will ever listen to your podcast and say, 'Wow, they have great sound quality! I'm going to keep listening and see if their content improves.'"), but having gone over my recordings with a fine tooth ear, I'm actually Level One nervous again about sending the stuff in.
Oh wait, I've gotten ahead of myself. So, I sent in two auditions the first day, and two more on the second. I heard nothing more, so I sent in three or four more since then (which is a grind, since my PC won't read the files they've saved their auditions in, so I have to download them to my desktop, email them to myself, open the email on my craptop, read the audition from the craptop while recording on my PC). Maybe I should listen to a couple to see if the readers a--
Ah, who am I kidding? I know I'm at least as good as any random reader on Audible.com, if not better, since I'm a voice actor anyway, and have been editing audio every week for years now (they say you've gotta do something for a thousand hours to become an expert at it, right?).
I actually did get a couple of rejections. The first one was nice, and said she liked my reading, but the book is in a series, and she's already paying someone else to read the first book, so she'd like them all to have consistency (which I totally understand). The second rejection was, crazily-enough, from a writer we'd done a story by on the Dunesteef. He made no comment on that, nor my reading, but simply said the rights were tied up and he wasn't in a position to assign anybody to record his book right now.
Then, I got an acceptance letter, from a writer I'd actually heard of (to be honest, I think recognizing her name made me decide to see what the book was about, rather than just judging by the title alone). She liked my reading*, and asked if I would also consider reading the first book in a mystery series she has going, hoping that my voice would suit the whole run.
Well, this would make anybody else on earth happy, I would imagine, but I was worried about committing to two audiobooks at the same time, especially since the last time I'd tried narrating an entire book, I'd given up in the middle, after a year or so. I didn't know how much work it would be to record, then to edit, and how much time I'd have to do them in (Renee mentioned having a book due in two days, and needing to read for over twelve hours straight to meet her deadline, and I'll admit, it frightened me).
But when I looked at the contract, I have until the ides of bloody March to get the books in, so I was fretting over nothing.
The second step after obtaining the text to be read is to record a sample of (exactly?) fifteen minutes, get it into perfect shape, and send it in so they can make notes or request/demand changes.
There are a bunch of posted rules (i.e., hoops) set up for how to record, how to perform, how to save, how to edit, how to clean up the sound, and how one must space out speaking and silence (for example, there should be exactly one-half second before you start to speak on every file, and an interminable 3.5 seconds in between you saying "Chapter One" and "The psychotic toddler had taken yet another victim . . .").
This is a case where my own experience ends up helping me not at all. I'm used to doing work for myself, or for other podcasts. If it's up to my standards, chances are, it'll be up to theirs.** But this is for other people, who are wanting to sell the recordings, and who may care much less about whether I can convincingly sound like an old man than whether you can hear me take a breath between dialogue.
Bryan Lincoln warned me to toe the line, that my stuff had to be of top-notch sound quality, because I'd be competing with professional audiobook readers, in an airtight studio with those egg carton things on the walls, and a jagoff in the control room fiddling with a hundred knobs and thinking about billing rates.
So, I followed their rules, and right before sending the fifteen minute sample of the first book, I decided to go though it, listening carefully, and making it fit exactly into their listed specifications.
What I discovered was, that aside from the clicks, slurps, and breathing sounds I apparently make every time I read something (which I've never before discovered, for some reason), there was also an intermittent buzzing sound that could be heard, on and off, throughout the whole recording.
On my own show, I wouldn't give a single crap, but now, I was paranoid. Could I use background noise to mask the buzzing? Could I edit it out in some way? Could I re-record a sentence here or there to offset it? Could I turn the volume down on the recording for the parts where that sound could be heard? And could I send the sample in as-is (despite now spending an extra hour just trying to sweeten the fifteen minute sample), hoping they'd be listening for the quality of the reading rather than the quality of the recording . . . or did I need to sit down and do the whole thing a second time, making sure that whatever was making the buzzing (a short in the microphone cord is my chief suspect) was no longer there?
Well, I still haven't decided.
I went through the first fifteen minutes of the second reading, and it had no buzzing (though it had a buttload of clicks and breaths that I lift out, grimacing every time), and sent it in, figuring I'd wait to hear notes on the "clean" sample before even trying to get my "dirty" sample passed.
In the meantime, I figured I'd audition for one more book--this one apparently written by a seventeen year old who just discovered the magic of gory description--believing (rather arrogantly) that this guy will not mind a little buzzing and breathing.
I'll keep you posted.
Probably.
Maybe not.
We'll see.
Rish "Narrated By" Outfield
*And here's a rub, I never actually communicated with the author, but with her agent. So every time I asked a question about pronunciation, or tone, or accents, I knew that my message was getting forwarded on to the "talent," as it were, then back to the agent, then back to me. Unless agents just do it all nowadays, which it's totally possible they do.
**Of course, I'm reminded of the short story I edited for another show, where I put the spooky sounds of wind and rain in the background for ambience, only to have the editor of the show say, "There was a lot of background noise in your recording, coming from outside your studio, but after a bit of work, I got rid of it all."
Monday, January 14, 2013
Babysitter of the (New) Year
I'm at my mom's house, babysitting my nephews. The two year old is what they used to call Skeletor, a "lord of destruction." Last week, he got into my sister's mascara, and wrote all over the wall and himself with it. Over the weekend, he got a Sharpie from Bossk knows where and used it to write on the banister, himself, and the couch (I got into a screaming match with my sister over that, since his thirteen year old babysitter was in the room with him at the time). And now it's my turn.
Already, he has tipped over his formula can (which he's too old for anyway), dumped out every one of my mom's nightstand drawers, stolen (and consumed) the bag of cookies I keep in case of emergency, tipped over his apple juice onto the floor, unrolled a tin foil container all about the house, and put several Super Hero Squad figures and his mother's iPod in his mouth.
But all that can be shrugged off. I'm blogging now (instead of watching him) because the boys (now five and two) wanted to eat an apple. I sliced half of it up for them, then put the knife up on the counter where they couldn't get it. "If you want more, let me know and I'll slice more pieces for you," I said, unnecessarily adding, "DON'T try to cut it yourself."
I was on the computer, writing up my NMX blog, when the two year old came running toward me, a knife in his hand. He couldn't reach the small blade I'd used to cut the apple, so he'd taken a desk chair, pushed it into the kitchen, climbed onto it, opened drawers until he found another knife.
It was like one of my scariest fever dreams: a small child running at me, brandishing a knife half the size of his whole body. Instead of fearing for my own life, though, I immediately thought of what might have happened had he held it by the blade, or worse, tripped and fell while bringing it to me to cut more apple.
And me, being the worst uncle in the world, I told him to hold still while I took a picture.
These kids are doomed.
Already, he has tipped over his formula can (which he's too old for anyway), dumped out every one of my mom's nightstand drawers, stolen (and consumed) the bag of cookies I keep in case of emergency, tipped over his apple juice onto the floor, unrolled a tin foil container all about the house, and put several Super Hero Squad figures and his mother's iPod in his mouth.
But all that can be shrugged off. I'm blogging now (instead of watching him) because the boys (now five and two) wanted to eat an apple. I sliced half of it up for them, then put the knife up on the counter where they couldn't get it. "If you want more, let me know and I'll slice more pieces for you," I said, unnecessarily adding, "DON'T try to cut it yourself."
I was on the computer, writing up my NMX blog, when the two year old came running toward me, a knife in his hand. He couldn't reach the small blade I'd used to cut the apple, so he'd taken a desk chair, pushed it into the kitchen, climbed onto it, opened drawers until he found another knife.
It was like one of my scariest fever dreams: a small child running at me, brandishing a knife half the size of his whole body. Instead of fearing for my own life, though, I immediately thought of what might have happened had he held it by the blade, or worse, tripped and fell while bringing it to me to cut more apple.
These kids are doomed.
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