Ever since Amazon recorded my novel, Three Daughters (btw, on
sale all of Feb for $1.99) for Audiobook and MP3 I've had it in my head to
record all my stuff and put it up on the Audible site. In my manic "discovery" stage
I'm certain that I can
make acceptable podcasts
including
book serials
blog
post entries
talk
incessantly and begin a whole new creative life
make
money and please the world with my great ideas
The cursing angels of good ideas and delusional ideas are to
blame.
The good angel said, " I have seen everything that is
done under the sun, and behold, all is vanity and a striving after wind."
The other angel said, "F**k, yes. Jump right in and do it. Who cares if
it's amateurish. Life is
antic. They keep saying crazy Kanye
is a genius. Maybe you are,
too. Besides, talking is easier
than writing.
Guess who Audible belongs to? It belongs to my celebrity crush, Jeff Bezos, who made
Amazon. The gang at Audible
or ACX which is what they call the production entity, is super friendly and the
staff there urges you to phone them anytime and ask anything. You get the idea that the audio
engineers are sitting around in Timberland boots and jeans and taking a spin on
their Segways every few minutes to let off steam. When a business is too welcoming, you get suspicious. I'm
pulled along BECAUSE they are encouraging diy. Most time you are urged not to do things yourself but to call
a professional.
ACX does something else that's dangerous. They especially ENCOURAGE authors to do
the recording of their own work.
They say, "Nobody knows your work better than you." That's not necessarily true. Some of my readers have better insight
into my writing and explain the books to me. Some readers say, "This book
went on and on. It put me to
sleep." One reader was so
comatose she called me Consumer Star Beer. Or maybe it was AutoFill.
My first thought about recording was: "Uh. No." My voice is kind of childish and uneven.
According to Dr. Weil, I don't know how to breathe. (He says breathing correctly
is the most important health practice.) But then: VANITY. And because: GRAMMY FOR THE SPOKEN
WORD. If there is an opportunity
to do something that might (will) come out poorly and needs (demands) some
innate technical know-how, prior training and SHOULD NOT (but will) be cobbled
together - I'm in.
ACX knows authors are crazy and delusional so they suggest
that we send a five- minute demo for their critique to see if we are capable of
making the team or should hire one of their voiceover pros.
I borrowed my son in law's digital recorder. He showed me the on/off
buttons, the replay button, the volume wheel, the usb port. I ignored the gazillion other buttons and started
up. What else could it take?
Right?
For reasons unknown - really, I don't know where this idea
came from - I put a Ralph Lauren king-sized pillow on either side of the
recorder for acoustical excellence.
I brought up my Kindle Single, "Thinner Thighs In Thirty
Years" on the Kindle screen and began to read the first scene. This work was meant to be delivered as
a one-woman show and it was produced (strange things happen to me) by a company
in Sanibel, Florida at the Periwinkle Playhouse.
Each of the fifteen or so short scenes begins with a snippet
of a poignant vintage song. Yes, I sang the snippet before beginning the reading.
Remember, I had been encouraged by ACX to be my own narrator. Scene one was framed
with this lyric: "If I had to choose just one day to
last my whole life through. It
would surely be that Sunday, the day that I met you."
This song is a Nat King Cole classic, That Sunday, That Summer,
that also contains this lyric. "Newborn
whippoorwills were calling from the hills. Summer was a-coming in but
fast." What the heck is a
newborn whippoorwill? It is a baby
bird named onomatopoetically for its song. This was the lead-in song I had chosen for a comedic
monologue about divorce and new beginnings. I read the rest of the scene (about five minutes) and
sent it off to ACX for appraisal.
A month later I received this response:
"I have reviewed your recently submitted sample and
have a few notes. First, I have to
say, your performance was great! Very warm and friendly." At the end there
was a smiley face. (WAIT! WHAT?)
There was more stuff in the e-mail about the noise floor and
the QC check and mastering but he finished with: "Again, you have done a great read." Even a person
who is adept at lying to herself found this hard to accept. How could my squeaky, sloppy speaking
voice do a "great read"? The other thing he said that I paid
attention to was: "your noise floor is quite low." Ralph Lauren's
pillows absorbed all the noise. Yay, I was a natural, no? So
there you have it. I will get up early one day soon, read
through all of the tech stuff, learn to edit out mistakes on a free program
called Audacity. Learn Audacity. Learn to master. Learn to encode. I will do all of this after the eternal
snow and ice melt and the dog days of winter evaporate.