In
order to satisfy the increasing consumer demand for audio books, audio
publishers have accelerated their search for more competent narrators. This
trend may explain why, as a producer/director, I’ve received a rising number of
narration demos the past few years as well.
For
me, the quality of performance isn’t keeping pace with the increased
solicitations. Sometimes, after briefly listening to a voice-overish demo, I’ll
think: Hmmm, not in the ballpark. And
I’ll wonder: Who directed this narrator?
The lingering impression is that no one did. Though I’m mindful of the fact
that many experienced and aspiring narrators, especially those residing outside
New York and LA, may have little or no access to credible supervision, I also
wonder: Why haven’t these narrators
collaborated with the two directors that are always with them? Are they even aware of their presence? If not, would an introduction be beneficial?
Introducing:
The Text
Speaking
from within my aesthetic location – storytelling – I’d argue that even without
a traditional director, narrators can and must – if the intent is to
emotionally connect the listener to the narrative – employ the two directors to
whom they are inextricably linked: The Text and You (the narrator).
This
post will focus on The Text. I’d planned to unpack the narrative’s directorial
function myself, but on a whim I thought, why not query the source. So, I
channeled The Text and to my surprise received an immediate reply. The Text
happened to be recovering from EDS (Editorial Deletion Surgery). The author was
on break, but the patient was conscious, albeit woozy from word loss. The Text
explained it would soon be consumed with rewrites, so I figured best to jump on
this opportunity in case of additional surgery, or worse, contract termination.
And
now, direct and in writing, my interview with: The Text.
PAUL:
Welcome. How are you feeling?
THE
TEXT: Long winded.
PAUL:
Still?
THE
TEXT: I’m afraid I’m in for additional red penning.
PAUL:
Hurts, huh.
THE
TEXT: Ah, well, the pain caused by my author’s expansion of me from novella to tome was more excruciating. Oh, my aching paragraphs.
PAUL:
I see. So, how’s the revision going?
THE
TEXT: Don’t ask. The publisher still hates me. She canned the author. The ghost
writer is howling, ‘It needs a page one rewrite.’ But, hey, you’re not here to
talk about my literary nightmares. Proceed.
PAUL:
Right. Well, let me first mention that I’d like to consider you, The Text,
strictly through a performance lens. I’m specifically asking how The Text
directs audio book narrators to bring its words to life.
THE
TEXT: Glad you asked because, and I hope it’s okay for me to speak for all my
fellow Texts, fiction and non-fiction, and say that we love it when
professional talent narrate us.
PAUL:
Not the authors?
THE
TEXT: Fie on them, especially my ex. Vocally, his readings are strictly from
Planet NPR, like he’s on a mega dose of Sominex. But I also have a pet peeve.
PAUL:
Which is?
THE
TEXT: Some narrators use their voice to speak
for the words rather than just
react to the feelings we’ve injected into them. Know what I mean?
PAUL:
I do. In fact, let’s begin by translating this pet peeve into your fundamental
directorial mission.
THE
TEXT: Okay. The Text’s Direction Number One-
PAUL:
And this applies to fiction and non-fiction?
THE
TEXT: Of course. Here it is: The Text directs the narrator towards feeling and
away from meaning.
PAUL:
Really. Why?
THE
TEXT: Because inhabiting The Text’s feeling, its emotionality, and then
connecting that feeling to the listener, is the actor’s primary responsibility.
PAUL:
And that feeling is located-
THE
TEXT: Inside my words, where the subtext breathes its life into them.
PAUL:
That’s it?
THE
TEXT: Yeah. But I could go on.
PAUL:
No, I’ll go on. Please suggest more specific directorial clues that you reveal
to narrators.
THE
TEXT: First, value actable clues.
PAUL:
Meaning?
THE
TEXT: Can we concentrate on Brother Fiction. I’ll get to Brother Non-Fiction’s
unique challenge later.
PAUL:
Okay.
THE
TEXT: Woo-hoo! First, let’s imagine the
narrator learns she’s got the job.
PAUL:
Time to prep.
THE
TEXT: Yup. Reading me, she focuses on the characters and plot, and highlights
questionable pronunciations.
PAUL:
So far so good.
THE
TEXT: Actually, not so good.
PAUL:
Why?
THE
TEXT: Because that’s not PP!
PAUL:
PP?
THE
TEXT: Priority Prep.
PAUL:
Explain.
THE
TEXT: May I address narrators in first person?
PAUL:
Why not. They know the mode.
THE
TEXT: Narrators, The Text here. Okay, Priority Prep. Read me thoroughly. Best
you’re not surprised on p.120 that Katie has a thick Irish accent, right. So
definitely know my story. Look up words you can’t pronounce. But as you prep,
remember, intellectual familiarity with me is the low hanging performance
fruit. Your PP is to discover my emotional directions, my actable clues, as we Texts prefer to call them. And they’re
ubiquitous.
PAUL:
Ubiquitous.
THE
TEXT: Like that word?
PAUL:
I do. Where’d you learn it?
THE
TEXT: From my author’s best friend, the thesaurus.
PAUL:
Right. So, let’s enumerate these ubiquitous directorial clues.
THE
TEXT: Point of view, The Stakes, The Now,
I’m Only Human, Punctuation, Word Choice, Word Order-
Paul:
Wo! Can you explain each-
THE
TEXT: One more. Duh!
PAUL:
Duh?
THE
TEXT: Like, yeaaahh!!
PAUL:
I don’t get it.
THE
TEXT: You will when I explain how these clues direct the narrator.
PAUL:
Let’s start with Point of View.
THE
TEXT: Narrators, as you’re prepping me, notice that each word you see, each
sentence, phrase, dangling participle, run on sentence, reflects someone’s or
something’s point of view! As you’re
recording me, I need you to inhabit that
point of view and connect it to the listener. It’s essential to understand
my words’ meaning. But remember: Emotion injects meaning with an actable point
of view. Meaning alone isn’t actable.
PAUL:
How about an example.
THE
TEXT: Take this line from my author’s upcoming novel, Four Star Peccadillo, about a wayward CIA director: “At the water
cooler, he whispered to please call him Dave.” Until the narrator imbues those
words with feeling, they are emotionally fallow. Only when the narrator
recognizes the author intends the character to be a flirtatious CIA director can the narrator inhabit and then
emotionally connect flirtatious to the listener. Flirtatious is inhabitable point of view, and therefore, actable.
PAUL:
Great, now-
THE
TEXT: And that brings me to The Stakes. And, excuse me. Ah…
PAUL:
You seem distraught.
THE
TEXT: I feel an oncoming peeve.
PAUL:
Okay, about what?
THE
TEXT: Some narrators don’t fully commit themselves to The Stakes.
PAUL:
You mean to a particular heightened moment?
THE
TEXT: Right. Or their emotionality doesn’t match the scene’s intensity.
PAUL:
So, The Stakes are the intensity of feeling and you’re telling narrators-
THE
TEXT: When you prep and then record, visualize the SS.
PAUL:
The SS?
THE
TEXT: The Stakes Scale. Narrators, as you prep and record, first ask what's emotionally at stake here? Say it’s danger. Then, how intense is the danger? Is it a 2, a
5, a 10? If it’s foreboding, love, or hate, or anger or sadness, what’s the intensity number? I once had this torrid sex scene, a middle aged couple, and the
narrator gave it a 2.
PAUL:
Maybe he was thinking pre Viagra?
THE
TEXT: Can I continue!
PAUL:
My bad.
THE
TEXT: Here’s my point: Narrators, you may understand The Stakes, but when the
author and I hear the recording we don’t always feel them. Sounds sometimes like you swallowed a
phlegmatic pill.
PAUL:
A phlegmatic pill? Really!
THE
TEXT: You buy that?
PAUL:
No. Just give me problem/solution, succinctly.
THE
TEXT: Gotchya. Problem: Not acknowledging a scene’s stakes. Solution: Engaging
the emotional stakes and then committing to them. And fyi, authors are all
about heightened emotions.
PAUL:
Right.
THE
TEXT: Imagine a chill author writing a chill narrative.
PAUL: There’s always
stakes!
THE
TEXT: And they’re often higher than the number narrators assign them.
PAUL:
Why do you suppose some narrators don’t see that?
THE
TEXT: Because they’re too focused on performing the non-actable words. The Stakes
are in the subtext, where they can be acted, or engaged, and then emotionally
connected to the listener.
PAUL:
How does the narrator actually engage The Stakes?
THE
TEXT: Isn’t that your next post.
PAUL:
Oh, yeah.
THE
TEXT: Jeesh!
PAUL:
Excuse me. Let’s move on to The Now.
THE
TEXT: I’m in it.
PAUL:
Huh?
THE
TEXT: I’m peeved.
PAUL:
Again?
THE
TEXT: That’s my point. I’m peeved now. I’ll explain.
PAUL:
Succinctly.
THE
TEXT: Narrators, as you prep and record me, think: The Text is all present
tense. No past, no future, only The Now, this moment. As you narrate, I need
you to experience The Text’s emotional consequence as if that feeling is
affecting you right now. Succinct?
PAUL:
For you, yes. So, where is The Now?
THE TEXT:
My subtext. Where else!
PAUL:
I assume that engaging The Now is critical to storytelling.
THE
TEXT: No Now, no Storytelling.
PAUL:
Just reading or reporting.
THE
TEXT: Ahhh. Reporting. My worst nightmare. Red pen me! Plagiarize me.
Mispronounce me. But report me? A fate worse than abridgment. Next question.
PAUL:
Sorry, I’m having a moment.
THE
TEXT: Good! Are you in it?
PAUL:
Yeah. See, I’m confused.
THE
TEXT: Nice. You sound it. About what?
PAUL:
Well, when you said earlier, “I’m Only Human.”
THE
TEXT: Yeah.
PAUL:
Why is that a ubiquitous text direction?
THE
TEXT: Has this been bothering you the whole time?
PAUL:
Kind of.
THE
TEXT: Poor guy. Do you need a hug?
PAUL:
Maybe later.
THE
TEXT: Deal. Well, follow my logic. Who is speaking in my novel? Who are the
first, second or third person narrators?
PAUL:
Humans.
THE
TEXT: Congratulations.
PAUL:
And your point?
THE
TEXT: If my author’s human, and my characters are human, and my narrator is
human…
PAUL:
Yeah.
THE
TEXT: Then why don’t all narrators talk like
humans?
PAUL:
Uh-oh. You’re peeved.
THE
TEXT: Ya’ think! Look, some narrators read like a metronome voice-over unit, in
a rhythmic pitter-patter, or lickety-split, like they’re in a race, or
sing-song like I’m a musical. And what really burns my semi-colon is when their
dialogue sounds like reading.
PAUL:
They are reading.
THE
TEXT: Brilliant. But guess what? The listener doesn’t think so. Listeners – and
this jargon I know – willingly suspend their disbelief-
PAUL:
Impressive.
THE
TEXT: Can I finish here?
PAUL:
Succinctly.
THE
TEXT: Okay! Meaning, the listener imagines the narrator is speaking off the
cuff, like us.
PAUL:
In fairness to narrators, what about authors who can’t write dialogue the way
people speak? Like yours.
THE
TEXT: That’s hitting below the syntax.
PAUL:
Unfair. Continue, please.
THE
TEXT: With all due respect to narrators, get over it. You’re actors. As you
prep, hear yourself speaking my words like a human, then record them like one.
PAUL:
So, relate this to ubiquitous clues.
THE
TEXT: Narrators, above each of my words is this invisible thought bubble: Pretend you never saw me.
PAUL:
I’m lost.
THE
TEXT: All my words supply this single word emotional direction: Surprise! Meaning, speak me like it’s
the first time we’ve met, as if you (as storyteller and characters) have no
idea what emotional revelation is coming next.
PAUL:
Instead of?
THE
TEXT: Succumbing to an artificial cadence that aesthetically implies you
already know what’s coming. Just like real life, words don’t necessarily emerge
easily, quickly, or in predictable rhythms. Discover the thought and feeling
before you say it, please.
PAUL:
Good direction.
THE
TEXT: And that brings me to The Text’s related performance clues. Think of them
as cousins.
PAUL:
You mean Word Choice, Word Order and Punctuation.
THE
TEXT: Yahtzee!
PAUL:
Oy.
THE
TEXT: First, cousin Word Choice. Here’s an example. My author wrote this line:
“Jenny was saddened by her mother’s death.” So, Jenny’s pov: She’s sad. The
Stakes are maybe a 5. But then my author re-wrote the line: “Jenny was
devastated by her mother’s death.”
PAUL:
“Saddened” was changed to “devastated.” And your point.
THE
TEXT: Those words conjure a different feeling, and in this case, higher stakes, like a 10, right.
PAUL:
So-
THE
TEXT: The word itself, often a verb or adverb, is a performance clue that
directs narrators to organically alter their volume, pitch, and pace, etc.
PAUL:
Okay.
THE
TEXT: Consider another rewrite; you know authors, never satisfied: “Jenny was inconsolable,
devastated by her mother’s death.”
PAUL:
“Inconsolable” ups the stakes, huh!
THE
TEXT: Yes, and notice the punctuation. A comma. What does that comma portend?
PAUL:
Portend?
THE
TEXT: Just tell me.
PAUL:
You tell me.
THE
TEXT: That comma, viewed through a performance lens, portends the birth of a
new thought and simultaneously directs the narrator to discover that new feeling.
PAUL:
The comma will also alter the pace, pitch, etc.
THE
TEXT: A+. And that’s why, narrators, when you're prepping me, if you highlight anything,
choose the punctuation. Why? Because the periods, commas, colons, exclamation
points, etc. direct you to a new feeling that, if storytelling is to occur,
must be discovered by you in that moment.
And once that feeling is discovered, ipso facto, your pace, rhythm, tone,
volume will be altered, organically.
PAUL:
And you say Word Order also directs the performance?
THE
TEXT: Here’s yet another change my author made. From: “Jenny was inconsolable,
devastated by her mother’s death.” To: “Devastated by her mother’s death, Jenny
was inconsolable.”
PAUL:
Still one comma, same words, ordered differently. Changes the meaning slightly.
THE
TEXT: And therefore the emotional consequence of the line.
PAUL:
The first version focuses on “inconsolable” and the second, “devastated.” And since that shift in word order indicates an altered feeling, it requires an
altered vocal attack.
THE
TEXT: Bravo! You get The Text. Now, before I forget, Brother non-fiction. The
only directorial issue unique to this sibling is point of view.
PAUL:
Why?
THE
TEXT: Non-fiction directs the narrator to engage only the author’s point of view, her enthusiasm, her desire to tell
her story.
PAUL:
What about characters that have dialogue?
THE
TEXT: Non-fiction does not intend for listeners to hear fully drawn
characterizations, accents, etc.
PAUL:
Surely a character’s intention may be reflected.
THE
TEXT: Yes, but only the intention.
Non-fiction’s performance vision is about the author’s desire to
enthusiastically tell his story.
PAUL:
And not portray its characters.
THE
TEXT: Spot on. Oh, I almost forgot, Duh!
My unsubtle reminder to play the obvious.
PAUL:
You mean, The Text’s clearly revealed emotional direction that narrators can
still miss?
THE
TEXT: Duh! Yes.
PAUL:
We’re waiting.
THE
TEXT: “‘I hate you,’ she said angrily!” How am I directing the narrator to play
that line?
PAUL:
Um, angrily?
THE
TEXT: Duh!
PAUL:
Well, you have been illuminating, if not wordy.
THE
TEXT: Hey, my author is king of the run-on page!
PAUL:
It just occurred to me. I produced his last book. Twenty-one hours.
THE
TEXT: Oh, the short story.
PAUL:
Right, well, let’s recap the The Text’s directorial role.
THE
TEXT: I’ll summarize.
PAUL:
Succinctly!
THE
TEXT: But-
PAUL:
You’re limited to a tweet count.
THE TEXT: The text directs narrators to engage Point of view, The Stakes, The Now, Punctuation, Word Choice, Word Order, I'm Only Human, Duh!
PAUL:
Well said. Thank you. Next post is my Interview with The
Self-directing Narrator: You.
Happy
holidays and I’m eager to begin December by recording with Barbara Rosenblat
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