Before moving from Massachusetts to Minnesota my family and I decided we would adopt a bunny for our new home. Sam, my twelve-year-old son had done some research on the types of rabbits we might want to get once we settled in. I’m not a big pet person to begin with, but a rabbit seemed like less maintenance and effort than a dog, so I went along with it. Val, my wife, on the other hand, is allergic to cats and also did not want a pet that could conceivable jump up onto our kitchen table. So, a rabbit it was, perhaps even two.
It took a while to find our bunny, though. One Saturday, while I worked on voicing a lengthy pharmaceutical eLearning training module, Val took the kids to the closest Animal Humane Society. The bunnies they met were skittish and unfriendly. Emily, our six-year-old, attempted to change the scope of the mission to getting a dog, even though she generally doesn’t like it when dogs come near her.
As other bunnies came on the Animal Humane Society website, we continued to make the twenty-minute trek. One bunny we met spent the whole visit under a chair, which I totally get. We were strange, large, and loud people (at least Emily and me) in a small, enclosed room. It seemed we were never going to find the right bunny.
Then we found a bunny that I’ll call “Bun-bun.” She was friendlier and less skittish than the others and seemed to want to engage with us. Her ears that stuck straight up. At close to six pounds, she was also large. From the time we met her, until the time we took her home the next day, we had to get ready to have a bunny. This meant getting a cage, food dish, litter box, water dish, chew toys, bedding, timothy hay, rabbit pellets, vitamin c tabs, baby gates and learning as much as we could about care and feeding of a rabbit.
Armed with all of our stuff, we brought “Bun-bun” home. She was scared on the drive because she was in a box with holes. Once she was set up, we let “Bun-bun” wander out of her cage and around our living room/ dining room. Right away she started pooping and peeing everywhere. Rabbit poop is not as disgusting as dog poop – it’s like malleable marbles - but nothing can prepare you for the sheer volume of poop a bunny produces. Every ten minutes there would be 20-30 more “marbles.” Since we let her wander, “Bun-bun” found a way to get a mixture of poop, pee and hay onto her hind legs and stain our carpet. She would also try to chew on electrical cords and could also be found going after wood furniture. And one time she got brave enough to try the stairs, where Emily found her in the guest room. That was the end of her free wandering. It was like having an infant all over again.
After a few days, “Bun-bun” started pooping and peeing more or less where we wanted her to with some exceptions – like peeing and pooping in her hay. The slurry of rabbit pee, rabbit poop and hay make for a rather unpleasant smelling soup.
Despite the “rabbit excrement stew” we spent some time getting to know “Bun-bun.” The kids enjoyed feeding her romaine lettuce and small servings of apple. They liked it when she nuzzled against them, and especially when she was “in the flop” – meaning she was laid out on her side. Being “in the flop” was a sign of her comfort with us.
But…there turned out to be a big problem with “Bun-bun”…or with the hay we had to feed her. I turned out to be allergic. After a few days with “Bun-bun” in the house, I would wake up every morning with a full-on allergy attack. It got to the point where my throat would constrict and I would sound hoarse all day. This is not the optimal condition for a working voice actor. All my recordings were a struggle because I did not have my full vocal range available. Plus, I felt and sounded hoarse ,and I noticed a difference in my delivery and my stamina in the booth.
For the kids’ sake I was prepared to tough it out with “Bun-bun” but it was clear, though, that “Bun-bun” was affecting my livelihood and would be better off with another family. So we made an appointment to bring her back to the Animal Humane Society after no one to adopt her.
Emily made the decision to come with me to bring “Bun-bun” back. The night before and the day of, Emily spent extra time with “Bun-bun” telling her it would be alright. At the Aniumal Humane Society, Emily did most of the talking, explaining that “Bun-bun” liked her the best and that I am allergic. Almost on cue, I started a sneezing nonstop as “Bun-bun” hopped around the room.
That night “Bun-bun” went up on the Animal Humane Society website. The next day she was off the website – a sign that someone else was going to give her a home. Thankfully it happened quickly. Hopefully she went to a good family with people who can breathe with her in the house, where she has a rabbit friend, and where she has the receives the same kindness my children showed her in the short time she was with us.
The kids went back to school this week. I’m both happy for them to move on into their new lives, and finding myself wondering what to do with myself with them out of the house for most of the day. (Answer: more writing and prospecting for new business). So far we’ve been keeping up with our ritual of a “Night-Night Bike Ride” as my first-grader calls our late afternoon/early evening rides that take us around our neighborhood, to local parks, and even finding rainbows if we’re out at the right time.
Both kids also expressed interest in biking to school. For Emily, my first grader, it’s a little over a mile: a manageable distance, but she is still tentative on hills. She comes to a complete stop and straddle-walks her bike downhill. In our hilly neighborhood, that makes for a challenging ride to school. Sam, my seventh grader, on the other hand has about a four-and-a-half-mile ride to school. His ride would have a number of steep hills, as we discovered when he and I set out on Labor Day morning to see if we could make it to his school. Halfway into the ride, he realized that he is not ready to ride his bike to school and we headed home.
One-mile and four-mile bike rides may not seem all that ambitious, but it is important to keep in mind that both of my children have been able to ride a bicycle for only two weeks. It may seem odd for a 12-year-old to have not yet learned to ride a bike, but we did not live in an area conducive to learning. Our old condo in Massachusetts had a tennis court where we played Wiffle Ball, but we weren’t supposed to ride bikes there, and our driveway/parking area was not a good spot either since some of neighbors were less than aware of their speed. Sam also didn’t seem all that interested in learning, probably, in part, because Val, my wife, and I left our bikes languishing in the garage for years where my gear shifters melted and my Val’s tires tires flattened from under use.
Once we got to Minnesota, all the kids in our neighborhood rode bikes and/or scooters. That’s what motivated Emily to go out to the driveway every day: she wanted to keep up with her older friends. Our driveway in Minnesota was not a great place to learn to ride a bike. It’s a fairly steep incline from the street to the garage – looking forward to winter! It evens off at the top of the driveway, but does not leave a lot of room to maneuver a bicycle.
But Emily was determined. She would take out her very small Frozen-themed, or “Anna and Elsa,” bike with training wheels and ride around the top of our driveway. She would then exchange it for the slightly bigger hand-me-down bike that some friends had given to her. She would stop and start but not really get going with the hand-me-down bike. Then she would switch back to the “Anna and Elsa” bike. Occasionally, I’d be tasked with removing the training wheels, only to have to put them back on five minutes later. She discovered that the “Anna and Elsa” bike was too small. But she was determined and every day we would go out.
While she was attempting to ride her bike I would take out Val’s bike and ride it around the driveway hoping to entice my son into learning to ride a bike as well. But he was embarrassed about learning at his age and felt defeated every time to did try. While Emily was riding on the driveway, he would head out to the yard to hit Wiffle balls into the street from the worn-out patches of grass where we played Wiffle ball all summer.
Emily went from half a pedal turn, to two pedal turns to being able to ride a bike across the driveway. When you first see your child pedal upright on a bicycle, it’s like some magic has taken over. I knew, from riding a bike myself, that riding is possible, but to watch Emily, who had been struggling with it, suddenly keep her balance was beyond special. “Look at you!” I shouted, which broke the spell of her ride. Once Emily learned to ride, we brought her bike to a local park where she would ride around in the outdoor skating rink. On her second day of riding the rink was flooded with rain. At first, she rode around the puddles, but then decided to ride through them after seeing some boys ride through them on scooters. I simply rolled my eyes and let her get soaked.
Now that his sister could ride, Sam was inspired to try. He would try to move forward and lose his balance and his temper. He could not quite understand how the bike worked from pushing on the pedals to maintaining balance as it moved forward. Despite his frustration, he kept coming back to it as his sister had done. And then, magically it seemed, he too was balancing on two wheels, pedaling around the outdoor rink, wondering why he had waited so long to learn. Now, his bike offers him a certain freedom.
It’s easy to forget what a challenge it is to learn to ride a bike. My kids both said it felt like they could always do it once they actually did it. But watching them from the outside, I saw a lot of frustration and doubt. There were times where each one of them wanted to give up. But they didn’t because they knew it was possible. Sometimes when we’re frustrated, we need to take a break, reset, and get back to it, and then we’re magically moving forward on two wheels and thinking about where we can go next.
When my daughter Emily started talking about secret doors to magic lands, I thought it was the right time to break out The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis. She’s six, so that may be a bit young…but she likes it when I read stories to her, and she had already moved beyond The Magic Treehouse series and the A-Z Mysteries.
I wonder if six is the age where our belief in magic is at its highest and needs to be tested. When Emily’s older brother was six, he wanted a magic wand with all the powers in the world…what he got was a story I wrote about a boy who receives a wand with all the powers in the world only to have everything go wrong. Instead of reading The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe to my daughter I could have just written a story about a magic door that leads to a world filled with wonder and danger. Now you have no choice other than to hear the movie trailer voice: "In a World...filled with wonder and danger...".
If you aren’t familiar with the plot of The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe, it follows four children in World War II England who have gone to live with a professor in his large house in the countryside. The youngest child, Lucy discovers that the wardrobe in one room is a secret doorway to a world called Narnia which is under control of the White Witch who makes sure it is always winter and never Christmas. Think Frozen’s Elsa as a sociopath. Meanwhile a talking lion named Aslan is returning to Narnia after a long vacation bringing spring along with him. One of the children (Edmund) gets some drugged Turkish delight and betrays the others because he wants more. The lion is killed, comes back and the children become rulers of Narnia due to some prophecy that there must be two human kings and two human queens regardless of their actual preparation for office. Edmund gets clean and doesn’t relapse. After reigning for several years the now adult children tumble back through the wardrobe becoming children once again and leaving Narnia behind. (note: this synopsis is intentionally sarcastic).
Before she and I began reading I outlined the basic plot, and told Emily that Aslan the lion gets killed, but that he comes back to save Narnia. Although she knew what would happen, she was still nervous at various points in the story…mostly having to do with the White Witch. I also had to skip the paragraph where Aslan is killed. Depending on her level of nervousness, she had three modes of listening to the story: sitting in my lap, drawing at the table, or sitting next to me.
There were times where we would take a break from the story – for an hour, or a couple of days. Yet…she wanted to keep reading more. I told her that good stories make us nervous because we care about the characters, and that being nervous means the author has done his or her job.
The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe is ultimately a well-told story, despite some of its more absurd elements. The triumph of good over evil is inherently appealing in a world in which it’s often hard to distinguish good from bad. The writing was different than what she was used to, so I would take breaks ask her what was happening, or explain the Lewis’ language in a way she would understand.
I like to think that having a professional read to her was part of the draw of the story, but that’s just me stroking my own ego. It was good practice for me to read the story aloud to her in between recording sessions focused on regulatory compliance and pharmaceutical sales training. Now, we’re looking for our next book, and I’m planning out a story about a girl who discovers a door….to a world filled with wonder and danger.
My family and I recently moved to Minnesota from Massachusetts. I tell people that it’s because I’m such a big fan of the Mary Tyler Moore show and want to be close to the statue in Minneapolis or that I was sick of Boston sports teams winning so much or that I wanted a colder winter. In all seriousness, it was a planned move to support my wife’s career and our family's sanity. Val has been working for a company based in Minneapolis and traveling 2-3 times per month. Being a voice talent, I can work from anywhere…and, as an added bonus, my voice comes with me!
That’s not to say that moving halfway across the country in my mid-to-late forties with two children was easy. Every mention of our move involved conversations about how cold the winters and how nice Minnesotans are. There were also lots of tearful good-byes over the last two months of our time in Massachusetts. It constantly felt like we were attending our own funerals, and the grief over the loss of our old life was real. However, it was also a realization that my family had made a net positive impact in our community. Hopefully we can do that in Minnesota as well.
So, my son and I set out on the road while my wife and daughter flew. Along the way we stopped in Cleveland to take in an Indians game where the people working concessions are among the nicest I’ve ever met. There’s also a statue of Jim Thome that makes me shiver with memories of him destroying the Red Sox in the late ‘90s. After the game we got lost trying to find our car after being shuffled out of the wrong gate. Thanks to a police officer we found our way back. Then we couldn’t find a hotel room because of various state athletic tournaments. Luckily someone at one full hotel found us a room – the only room- just outside of Toledo. We also stopped in Chicago, after a lengthy traffic jam in Gary, Indiana, for a Cubs game where we got to see Victor Caratini, a backup catcher who started at first base, take a turn pitching and make a “Jeter jump” play coming off the mound as the Cubs were getting smoked by the Mets. From Chicago we drove through Illinois and Wisconsin our new home in Minnesota, as I counted deer carcasses along the road.
Back in Massachusetts life moved forward: someone else is living in our condo and driving past the five speed bumps to get there. According to social media friends and family are spending some time at the beach this summer. The kids my son has played baseball with the past few summers made it to the regional semifinals of the Little League World Series Tournament.
Our lives have moved on also. Now that we’re here, we’ve been welcomed as part of our neighborhood in a way that never happened this quickly back in Massachusetts. My kids can frequently be found playing with other kids from the neighborhood. One set of neighbors shows movies in their driveway, another set of neighbors invited us for s’mores. The neighborhood kids play “night games:” while my wife and I watch the fireflies in our backyard. My son has found a summer baseball league and his coach is hoping to have him on his fall team. My daughter is excited to play soccer.
Soon it will be time to go back to school, and my kids will be missed but will be creating their own new lives. As will my wife and I. My wife has her colleagues and her work in Minneapolis, and I have my business. My studio is up and running, and I keep getting scripts from clients who want to hear the sound of my voice on their projects. Although I had to give up my part time job recording underwriting announcements for WBUR, I don’t have to start completely fresh thanks to the Internet.
Life does indeed go on.
Losing sucks. We all know that. Just ask the Boston Bruins after losing the Stanley Cup Final at home. I’m not a hockey fan, but I know a few, and know how much that will sting. It’s how we react and what we take away from losing that can pave the way for future success. That’s the overall takeaway from Sam Weinman’s Win at Losing: How Our Biggest Setbacks Can Lead to Our Greatest Gains.
Throughout the book, Weinman cites several examples from the sports world: golfer Greg Norman and speed skater Dan Jansen just to name a couple, but the lessons of the book can be applicable to those of who aren’t elite athletes.
As a small, freelance business, I am constantly fighting a battle against losing. When I started in voiceover I signed up a client right away which led me to believe that it would be easy. Spoiler alert: it’s not. Although I still work with that client, it has taken time and effort to develop other client relationships. Along the road I’ve had some losses and have had to learn to roll with it. Another early client was going to work with me on a series of videos, but then went with another talent – and didn’t pay me for the work I did on the first video. In hindsight, I was better off without that client.
My son’s baseball team seemed to encapsulate many of the different approaches to losing described in the Win at Losing. They won a few games early in the season which might have led to some overconfidence as they lost a bunch toward the end. One player gave himself a pass for not trying in the outfield because he wanted to pitch more. Another player calculated the team’s win probability against another team at twenty percent to which indicated that he had already given up.
As much as losing sucks, it can be a positive, instructional force if we can break it down into focusing on the process versus the outcome. The best athletes have a process for training and a routine for playing at the highest level. If you’re doing what needs to be done, then you can better live with losing. When we focus on the end result only we lose sight of the process that got us there. One player on my son’s team pressed so hard in our playoff game that he dropped an easy fly ball and struck out three times swinging at bad pitches because he kept thinking about it being a must-win playoff game.
I wanted to let him know he could just relax, and enjoy himself. That the game is just a game. That he could keep working at the things he knows how to do. But he had already beaten himself in those moments. I can only hope now he learns to put it behind him and emerges a better player.
Every time you type a search into Google you are feeding it data: the questions you ask reveal things about you personally and about your group when taken as a whole. In exchange you get information. Then there’s Facebook which offers you the chance to like certain posts made by friends, pages you follow, and posts your friends have shared. Each of these interactions is a data point that, when collected, begins to tell us who we are as a collective. And then there are countless other companies collecting data on your likes, wants and interests.
In Everybody Lies: Big Data, New Data and What the Internet Can Tell Us About Who We Really Are Seth Stephens-Davidowitz discusses the ways in which social scientists can use our online truthfulness to get at what is really going on in our society. For years social science and opinion polling have been ruled by the survey, but people can lie to survey takers and pollsters. I always tell pollsters that my vote is swayed by soybean futures. However, we admit things to Google that we don’t admit to anyone else – everything from racist tendencies to sexual proclivities, and that data we give to these big institutions can provide a better snapshot into our society than do surveys.
There are many implications as to what big data can tell us, we just have to ask the right questions of it. The first question is what exactly are we telling Google that we don’t tell anyone else?
On the flipside of what we tell companies like Google, I’m curious if the ability to search on just about anything makes us more emboldened to pursue regressive lines of thinking? For instance, does the ability to search for racist jokes using the n-word make being a racist seem less repugnant because those search results are out there? Or does it merely signal that racist attitudes have never really gone away?
Likewise, does being able to find links between vaccines and autism – however erroneous – lead to spikes in unvaccinated people who then ignite outbreaks? Same thing with climate change denialism – as there’s always someone out there to refute the science with erroneous, un fact-checked "data."
Everybody Lies asks different questions, though. Perhaps as we learn what big data tells us, we can understand the impact on our own lines of thinking and attitudes.
You got a problem with this blog post? What are you some kind of moron?
Chances are that you’ve probably worked for an organization or had clients who thought that being a jerk was a key to their success. Early in my work life I worked for a company where the CEO acted like a crime boss and would verbally abuse people in meetings. This culture permeated throughout the organization leading to high turnover and burnout. The CEO was wealthy, and the company was profitable, but there’s a chance it could have been even more wealthy and profitable had it followed the advice of Christine Porath in her Ted Talk Why Being Respectful to Your Co-Workers is Good for Business.
Porath and her colleague Christine Pearson conducted a survey quantifying the role that incivility plays in demotivating employees. It turns out that being rude to employees makes them less motivated, worry more, or quit their job.
Asking people if they are a moron is not much of a motivator. Who knew? Perhaps this means that the way to suffer fools is gladly, and not just at work. It’s not always easy – occasionally you do run into people that leave you wondering if they mentally checked out to the point where you want to shake some sense into them. But then shaking them is more likely to lead to brain injury, which is the opposite of the intention of shaking sense into them. The lesson then is that shaking people does not ever have the desired effect of either motivating or knocking sense into someone.
(Just a side note: I do not ever seriously advocate shaking or physically abusing anyone.)
As you’ve no doubt guessed, I left that job with the bullying CEO and went on to other positions with other companies, some more civil than others. As a freelancer, I find that my clients and I often treat other with mutual respect, but that doesn’t always work out.
Once I was in a session with some tricky jargon in a field in which I did not have a background. I spent some time the night before the session looking up pronunciations of the words. During the session, with the end client on the phone, I asked the end-client to clarify pronunciation and tripped over some of the sentences which necessitated alternate takes – not unusual in the voiceover business. In fact, nailing a read the first time is highly unusual.
At the end of the session the end-client said something to the effect of: “This has been a waste of time and Chris needs to come to the session better prepared.” I was taken aback. Before I could respond she hung up the phone. Was she really expecting that I nail five syllable words I’ve never used before on the first take?
Her comments were passive-aggressive, rude and uncivil. As a freelancer, I value every client that wants to pay me to voice their script, but this end-client motivated me to not want to work with her again with her dismissive comments about my effort.
So the bottom line is this: treat your co-workers, employees, freelancers and clients with respect. Your business will be better for it.
The movie Office Space – a comedy released in 1999 – is a meditation on finding a purpose at work. Most of the characters work for a fictitious company called Initech. Peter, the main character, is disgruntled, and trying to work as little as possible, while also trying to avoid working on Saturdays. Milton, a mumbling character with little to no purpose, keeps having his desk moved against his wishes and has an overwhelming attachment to a red stapler.
And then there is Tom, whose job it is to take customer specifications and deliver them to the software engineers. Over the course of his conversation with “the Bobs” – who are efficiency expert consultants - it becomes clear that Tom’s role is relatively useless. Sensing where the conversation is heading, Tom desperately tries to defend his position at Initech.
“What is it you say…you do here?” one of Bobs asks.
And that is really the key question the film poses. In other words: “What is your purpose?”
Prior to being a voiceover talent, I had worked for a number of organizations in various roles. Some provided more purpose than others. There was one organization where I would go to work with so little to do that I would dread going in. There’s nothing that taxes your brain as much as trying to look busy. I liked the people, I liked what the organization stood for, and there were some interesting things I was able to accomplish, but in the end, my role, as defined by the organization, provided little value.
That company was eventually forced to go under. We were all allowed to interview for positions with the company that took over its main contract. In the interview process I felt like Tom: an employee whose role is exposed to provide no value. Unlike Tom, I was offered a new role, but chose to move on, wanting a clean break.
It still took me a while, and a few careers from there, to find my purpose as a voiceover talent, but along the way I managed to find roles that offered more than busy work. Running my own business, though, offers an enormous sense of purpose. The job is creative and requires a sense of dogged determination. But you don’t need to run your own business to have purpose at work. At the end of Office Space, the characters are in a different place than they were in the beginning. Peter is working construction and is much happier, having found purpose in building something.
If you can honestly say you help people, make something valuable, or benefit your organization, you might just have a sense of purpose.
Susan Cain’s Quiet: the Power of Introverts In a World That Can’t Stop Talking focuses on the introverts – big surprise given the title. Specifically, it focuses on how introverts can defy expectations. We have come to expect that our CEOs, salespeople, lawyers and, let’s face it, anyone who’s successful will be an extravert. Our culture is also steeped in extraversion (or is it really exhibitionism?). As Cain points out throughout the book quiet, contemplative and thoughtful people - a.k.a. “introverts” - can achieve success not despite - but because of - their personalities.
But what about the ambivert? The person who can be an extravert or an introvert depending on the time or situation? I know I sometimes want to be around people and other times I relish the time I have to read before my family wakes up in the morning.
I suspect many people fall into the ambivert camp, as I do. I have a loud voice, enjoy public speaking, have been known to joke around, and like to be around people. But I do seriously need time to reflect, and I like to observe new social situations before inserting myself. For the ambivert, Quiet is an opportunity to recognize that there is value to the quiet and reflective side of your personality.
Defining ourselves by a binary and arbitrary bucket can be self-limiting. Personality testing is like putting a lab coat on an astrologer anyway – you’ll see yourself in any general description offered and you may even get different results every time you take a test. For this reason, it’s worthwhile to check out The Personality Brokers: the Strange History of Myers-Briggs and the Birth of Personality Testing by Merve Emrer, which details the creation of the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator and subsequent attempts to prove its validity.
This is not to say that there aren't true introverts out there, it's just that there is a whole spectrum of experience and many of us are in the middle. While I may not be a true introvert, I can appreciate the moments I seek to be alone with my thoughts before the next time I am navigating a room full of strangers, telling jokes.
In his book Start With Why: How Great Leaders Inspire Everyone to Take Action, Simon Sinek challenges us to find out why we do what we do. (It’s also succinctly covered in his Ted Talk "How Great Leaders Inspire Action"). All too often, he points out, companies and people are fixated on what they do. He cites several examples of companies that never found their why and failed. In other words, these companies were focused on what (e.g. “we make widgets that have these features and benefits”). According to Sinek, that’s simply not good enough because it does not inspire customers, and turns your product into a commodity that gets bought on price.
So, this got me thinking. What I do is voiceover. I talk into microphones for a living, and I do this for a variety of clients. Simple enough. But why do I do this for a living? There are many easier ways to earn a living with a more defined schedule, and a steadier paycheck. I’ve tried that path, and it just wasn’t for me – and that’s a discussion for another day. But still – why voiceover?
To find fame and fortune as the voice of some hot animated property? Well, I’d have to move the family to LA for that, and we have no plans to do that. Because I like being sequestered in a dark windowless area? Well that depends on the day. Because I like being judged by strangers on the relative merits of my speaking voice? Sign me up for that any day, he retorted sarcastically.
My why, it turns out, is quite simple. I’ve always loved reading aloud. You can hand me the most boring, dull, dry as dirt financial regulation script, and I’ll welcome the chance to speak it into the microphone. Same with industrial flooring, HR benefits, and the proper ratios of medications to treat disease. Yes, these are all actual projects I’ve worked on. I’m not picky, just send me the copy!
And this did not start recently, either. I’ve always loved reading aloud. In school I wanted to get called on to read aloud and would be frustrated when a classmate butchered the text. Yep, I’m not above my own judging, thank you. But now, I get to do this. I do it for projects that have a limited audience, and I do it on the radio. I do it for sales training and e-learning.
I’m not looking to be famous. I just like to talk on a microphone. If you’ve got something to say, I’m happy to say it for you!
So, what is it you do? And what is your why?
She asked if she could take a photo of my shirt because she knew so few people who would know what my shirt meant.
Let me back up. I was in Boston to run the BAA 5K this past Saturday. Not as glamorous as the Boston Marathon, but a lot less training intensive. Plus, you can finish a 5K in well under an hour. I went into it hoping I would have a few weeks of solid training and that I could run at a decent pace, but I had been feeling horrible in the weeks leading up to the race. I had spent the past four-and-a-half weeks battling a hacking cough/cold/sinusitis that made running difficult if not miserable every time I went out. So, I came to the race with one goal: finishing.
I was hanging out with my friend under a tent before the race because it was a rainy morning, when a woman approached me and asked to take a picture of my shirt. On the front my shirt read “AT Cure Team.” She explained that her son’s friend’s sister has AT, and at 12 years old is now in a wheelchair. She said she knew very few people who knew about AT and wanted to take a picture to share with her son’s friend’s parents and show them that there are people out there who understand.
AT stands for ataxia-telangiectasia. AT is genetic, typically manifests itself before five years of age, and leaves many children in need of a wheelchair by adolescence. You can read more about AT here.
I told the woman about my nephew who had AT and passed away last summer right after his 18th birthday. She started to tear up. A man listening to us asked about AT so she and I told him about AT, describing some of the symptoms and challenges that kids with AT face.
If you go to a road race you’ll see a mix of shirts from other races as well as runners wearing cause shirts, many related to medical conditions such as cancer. You’ll see groups of runners with pictures of their lost loved ones on their shirts. You’ll see blind runners running with guides, and people challenging themselves to run with a blindfold in order to understand running while blind.
I picked the AT shirt out of a pile of shirts I could have chosen. And by choosing that shirt I made a brief connection. It was a reminder that what you wear can matter even in ways that you may not intend, and a reminder to keep running no matter how slow I was going that day.
The more I read about cognition and neuroscience, the more it seems that our brains are masters of deception. Actually, that’s not true, our brains are masters at creating an individualized reality – think of the fallibility of memory and how we double down on beliefs despite evidence to the contrary. So it is with our emotions. In How Emotions Are Made: The Secret Life of the Brain, Lisa Feldman Barrett goes into a detailed description of how emotions that we think are universal are not universal at all, and that we are actively constructing emotions based on experience and language. We can have wildly different interpretations of people with the same facial expression: for example, a person screaming with joy could look like fear to someone else, or even anger to a third person.
My key takeaway from this book is that we can give names to emotions that have been to this point nameless. A couple of examples are the Danish concept of hygge – comfortable coziness, and the German word schadenfreude – the joy in someone else’s suffering, or what haters feel every time my Red Sox lose.
So, I’ve come up with a list of emotions and feelings that I’ve taken a stab at naming:
I’m sure there are others out there – just name them. If you come up with some, drop me a line at email@example.com. I’ll be sure to give credit where credit is due.
Who doesn’t want to be absolutely certain when making a decision? But life, like poker, does not always show its cards. That is the premise behind Thinking in Bets: Making Smarter Decisions When You Don’t Have All the Facts by Annie Duke. Duke is a champion poker player – as well as a former PhD candidate in Cognitive Psychology – which makes perfect sense because poker is a mind game after all.
Duke weaves poker stories into larger discussions of the cognitive blind spots that plague human beings. Many of us are guilty of “resulting” – that is letting the outcome of a decision affect how we view that decision. All one has to do is listen to sports “experts” talk after a big game goes awry and the “should haves” that these experts spout. One example Duke cites in the book was Super Bowl XLIX (or 49 for those who don’t want to decode Roman Numerals) when Seahawks coach Pete Carrol called for a pass instead of a run at the goal line. If the Seahawks score they win, but Patriots cornerback Malcolm Butler intercepted the ball at the goal line and the Patriots won. Duke maintains that the call to pass was not a bad decision because it had a low probability of the utter failure that resulted. Go read the book for her more detailed argument.
And this what I took away from this book. Sometimes good decisions – when playing the odds – can backfire. This leads us to assume the decision itself was bad simply because the outcome was bad. Now I’ve got a list of decisions that led to bad outcomes. After reading this book – it could be that some of those decisions weren’t so bad after all.
Duke also outlines strategies for making better decisions, including relying on a trusted group. So remember, no decision is perfect and good decisions can go bad. Life is not a zero sum game. We just have to keep making the best decisions we can to be successful.
Sometimes, I do have to use my voice to plug products. It’s my actual job.
In the spirit of fundraising, I’m raising funds to fight cancer. Specifically, I’m raising money for Dana-Farber Cancer Institute, and running a 13.1 mile road race next month.
Anyone who sponsors at least $1 will be entered into a drawing of absolutely no material value: you get to pick the baseball cap I wear on race day. You could pick the Red Sox, or even, gulp, the Mets. You could pick your alma mater, your favorite hockey team, or even, gulp, a camouflage hunting cap. You could even pick the hat I’m wearing in the photo.
The only hats I will not wear are: those that cost more than $40 to buy, any hat promoting a politician or political agenda (e.g. no Make America Great Again) hats, no hats that could be construed as insulting. I hope that covers everything….
Some ideas below:
Over the course of the last week, month, quarter, year, I’ve reached out to a lot of prospective clients. It’s not a task I particularly enjoy, but it’s necessary. After all, just because you’ve “hung a shingle” doesn’t mean anyone is going to come looking for you. I trust that a name like “Vallancourt” is sticky enough for them to remember - even if it is frequently misspelled. Maybe I should have called myself the “Voicing Vallancourt;” but the idea of that cutesy alliteration makes me want to barf.
I digress. When I reach out I typically get one of the following responses:
Happy to listen to my demo - These clients are the very smartest in my estimation. They can tell I’m the man with pipes golden enough to make their voiceover projects come to life! My guess is that these folks are members of Mensa and had a 4.0 GPA in college.
Little or no use for voiceover -These clients must be unaware as to how much better their projects will be with a voiceover. Particularly my voice. Another voice might work, but not as well as my voice...
“We’ll put you on our list” - It’s a polite brush off that’s just vague enough to give you a glimmer of hope they might hire you (but they probably won’t). They’re typically nice people who don’t like saying no. Under the right circumstances you might be able to get them to buy a nonexistent timeshare. That is, if you were the sort of person who sold nonexistent timeshares. That would make you a horrible person who takes advantage of people, though.
No response - These people are obviously horrible and ignorant. Who needs them? I can grow my business without them. They probably flunked out of college.
Then there are those people that respond with something like the following:
“We post all of our jobs to [online casting/freelance site].”
Sounds promising, right? All you have to do is look for their jobs to post, and you don’t have to keep checking in with them. After they hear your voice a few times, they’ll hire you, right? And bingo! You’ve just made a new client…
Ummmm, no. It’s a brush off. In directing you to a third party site, the prospect is really telling you that they see no value in your time or talent. Any effort you put into responding to their auditions will, at best, result in a transactional one-sided relationship. There is no partnership to be had with these clients. You’ll spend a ton of energy auditioning for, maybe, one gig. Yay.
That’s not to say you can’t find clients on third-party sites. It’s possible, just not gonna happen with a producer who tells you that’s the only place they book talent.
A sustainable freelance business involves finding clients who want to work with you on an ongoing basis. That’s what’s known as relationship building. The more your clients see you as partners, the better off your business will be. These clients value your time and your talent and, more importantly, bring you repeat business, and possibly referrals. These clients are the best.
Every Thanksgiving I find a lot to be thankful for:
13 years since “I do,” and being married to someone who brings such thoughtfulness and joy into my life.
That our house is full of music.
That my wife and my children all sing so beautifully.
That our 9-year-old appreciates the music of Hamilton, but still knows not to say the bad words in the songs.
That our 3-year-old insists that “Kiss the Girl” (from the Little Mermaid) is “Kiss Tigger.”
That the election is over. For now. Is it still too early to begin the 2020 campaign?
Baseball. Major League, Little League and just playing catch.
Rainbow Unicorns. Don't ask.
That I get to make a living talking into a microphone. Seriously. I talk into a microphone. For. A. Living.
My clients who appreciate the work I do for them. And then give me more work.
It’s only an hour to Fenway Park from where I live.
Vibrant New England Falls.
Making up silly games, songs and dances with my family.
Snuggling up with my daughter to read books, and then hearing her mimic my inflection and the voices I give to characters.
Hearing my children play together.
The quiet of a gentle snowfall.
And a garage for when the snow is a bit heavier.
That I’ve still got so many ideas to explore.
The hummingbirds that visit our porch in the summer. And the other birds, too: cardinals, woodpeckers, goldfinches, house finches, blue jays, chickadees, tufted titmice, and so on…
That our daughter asks deep and thoughtful questions about Ariel, the Little Mermaid.
Drawing with our children.
Our creative household.
I hope you have lots to be thankful for also!
This morning I woke up, had some breakfast, drank some coffee, waited for the rest of my family to wake up, then voted. There was no line at 8:30am. My three-year-old daughter helped me decide who to vote for. My nine-year-old son son wanted to inspect my ballot to compare my ballot to my wife’s. I don’t consider this voter intimidation, just curiosity.
The Freakonomics podcast made the case a while ago that your vote in the presidential election is essentially meaningless. I buy that from a mathematical perspective, but not from a cultural perspective. Casting a vote one way or another is meaningful. You’re buying into a particular vision of the next four years, or you’re so repelled by one side that you need to vote against it.
In this campaign, there was plenty that was repellent. It’s fascinating to watch the mental gymnastics that we all make to justify choices we likely made a long time ago. It’s like a nation-wide experiment in the effects of cognitive dissonance (i.e. clinging strongly to a belief despite seemingly little reward for doing so). I’ll admit, I made my choice for president a long time ago, and nothing I’ve seen since then has caused me to change my mind. In fact, every news cycle reaffirms my choice.
Here in Massachusetts it’s pretty much taken as a given who will win our electoral votes, unless we’re so into “Cat Scratch Fever” that Ted Nugent can make our voters change their minds. Actually, “Cat Scratch Fever” is a terrible song, so cat scratch that, I guess. I wonder how much entertainers actually move the needle on Election Day, but that’s another topic for people with far more time on their hands as well as access to the data. But then who trusts actual data anymore when you can find a news outlet that echoes your beliefs.
There are other races as well as ballot questions that made it worth my time to go the 1.7 miles to my polling station (Town Hall). I’m fortunate that voting is not a huge inconvenience, and I get to share it with my children. So, nothing to complain about for me.
Since I didn’t voice any political ads this election season, my conscience was clear in my choice, and no cognitive dissonance necessary. Tomorrow, I’ll still have my voiceover business, and, likely a new president-elect. Now, get out there and do your thing: vote!
This is Little Brown Bear. He was a gift from my then girlfriend (now wife) some 14 years ago. This was before I was a voice actor, and before we had children, and, of course, before we were married. He came with a bouquet of flowers that he likes to remind me are long since dead. Little Brown Bear immediately developed a character and a personality - I was always going to be a voice actor. He’s a little obnoxious, but spirited and enthusiastic about the things he likes: bears, eating fish, and the Cubs.
Little Brown Bear only likes bear themed sports teams (Cubs, Bears, Bruins, Grizzlies), with his favorite team being the Cubs. He’s fond of saying, “I love the Cubs,” followed by a sigh. I’m a lifelong Red Sox fan, and Little Brown Bear was disappointed that the Red Sox broke their World Series curse on 2004. He wouldn’t talk to me for a week. He wanted to maul Steve Bartmann in 2003, and now he’s nervous for Game 7.
Kids have always loved him - nieces, nephews and now my own kids. My 9 year old is a Cubs fan also, and they are rooting for the Cubs tonight together.
What does this have to do with voiceover?
Little Brown Bear allowed me to practice my voices, acting and improvisational skills while I worked in other industries, and before I discovered I could make a living talking into a mic. My voiceover career owes him a debt of gratitude.
So, Go CUBS!
I just finished an in-depth e-Learning project for a pharmaceutical client. It was filled with words I just don’t get around to saying on a daily basis as I’m not a doctor. I won’t say that I play one on TV because it’s a lame joke, and I did once play a doctor in a video shoot for a different pharma client. The client for the video shoot asked if I wore glasses, though - which I don’t. They thought it would make me look more professional.
But I digress. Much of the work I do is corporate narration: sales training, compliance training. Stuff that sounds “really boring” to people who are initially fascinated that I’m in voiceover. They want to know if they’ve heard me somewhere, not if I can pronounce epinephrine.
But recently a light clicked on for me: the content may not be interesting, but the words are. When I’m recording these things that are “really boring,” I’m fascinated by the linguistic hurdles of the text whether it be pronunciation of medical terms, discussion of financial regulations, or just breaking down complex sentences into digestible fragments. As long as I "stick my landing" on these words, my clients walk away happy. (Couldn't resist the metaphor with the Olympics going on...)
After all, I tell people that I “eat pronunciation for breakfast.” That doesn’t mean I go into each recording session knowing how to pronounce everything. It means that I go into a recording session with a willingness to learn new words, and strategies for doing so so that my clients believe I sound like I know what I’m talking about.
Just don’t expect me to write a prescription.
A friend recently asked me to emcee an auction. Not to do the actual auctioneering - warm, friendly and professional is not exactly what anyone wants from an auctioneer anyway. My role would be to deliver announcements throughout the evening, introduce key people and transitions. I said yes as the auction was months away.
Fast forward to the day of the auction. On my way to the auction I had a moment of panic: what if I’m terrible? What if I tell a joke that no one finds funny? I had dressed in a lavender shirt and purple tie in tribute to Prince. Would it be okay to start singing “When Doves Cry” or “Purple Rain?” My wife was away for the weekend, would the kids be okay with their grandmother? (They’re always okay with their grandmother, remember this was a moment of panic).
I had to settle my nerves. Calm down, I told myself. It will be okay. My nervous energy was just telling me I want to do well. My nerves were further calmed by the presence of friends and friendly faces. I took the mic and made the announcements. Being up on the stage was much different than being in the friendly confines of my recording studio.
And this is where I stretched my boundaries. I tried something new despite a moment of panic and being out of my comfort zone. By all accounts, I did well. I introduced the auctioneer, got the crowd to clap for the barbershop quartet, and managed to not offend anyone.
Stretching our boundaries is one key to success. Even starting my voiceover business was an exercise in boundary stretching. Could I develop relationships with clients? Would they like my sound? Oh, boy, I’m feeling a moment of panic again...
“Why does this always happen?” I’ve said this phrase a lot, and have been tempted to say it a lot more.
Most recently, I spilled a pile of coffee grounds. Coffee grounds are like sand - wonderful, delicious, aromatic sand. What I mean is that they get everywhere, and you never truly feel like they’ve been cleaned up. This problem might be eliminated by a single cup coffee brewer, but I prefer my French press even though the fact that I French press my coffee makes me sound like an irredeemable snob. I cancel this out by wearing baseball hats everywhere I go. The baseball hats also cover up the fact that I’m bald.
I’ve already diverted from my point. When I spilled the coffee grounds, I was already having what could be considered a crummy day - my daughter had been sick and was still moody, I learned I had lost a major project, and it was cloudy outside. My first instinct was to say, “Here we go again! Why does this crap always happen?”
But then I thought about it. I had mishandled the coffee grounds, that’s it. The universe was not passing judgement on my quality as a person. And no, things do not “happen” to me. So much of our perception of luck is really just that - perception. And attitude. When you’re stuck in a traffic jam, it’s not because the other drivers are trying to make you late - they’re stuck too, and some of them think you are conspiring to make them late.
My daughter is feeling much better, the coffee grounds got picked up, and that project I thought I had lost ended up back with me. I’m still bald though.
Just recently, I had a moment of synchronicity. And no, that’s not performing the same dance routine in the pool as someone else wearing a nose plug. Thankfully, The Police were around in the ‘80s to introduce me to the concept.
I have a relative who desperately wants to be famous; let’s call her Jill. Jill wants to be famous so much that she signed up for emails from several acting and modeling “talent agencies.” One agency sent a text: “...we’re searching for new faces & talent to represent in 2016. This is your chance to be discovered! This search is being held at our office… By Invitation only, call for details & to have your name added to the list…”
A quick web search reveals that this company engages in a “Bait & Switch” strategy. Essentially Jill would be invited in for an “audition,” the “agency” would tell her she needs to take some classes, and then she would be pressured sign a contract that has her spending a lot of money for these classes in order for her to then be famous. There were pages upon pages of horror stories about people getting bilked out of their money for these classes with the promise of being “discovered.”
Before Jill and I discussed this “Talent Agency” my eight-year-old son asked me what “bait & switch” means. I explained it within earshot of Jill which then gave me an intro to her “talent agency.” (That's where synchronicity kicked in!) Jill seemed genuinely crushed when I told her what I’d discovered. I asked Jill if she thought this agency was a ticket to stardom, and she evaded the question entirely, saying: “It just looked like fun.”
What this agency is selling is a fantasy that preys on the hopes and dreams of people like Jill. In other words the lottery dream. When I got started in voiceover, I wasn’t sure I would make any money, and I had no illusion that I would be the next Don LaFontaine or Mel Blanc (although I can do a number of character voices and impressions, my bread and butter is my corporate professional tone).
Granted, if Jill does want to be and actor or model, she does need training, but she doesn’t need to be sold a false promise of fame.
As we sit on the precipice of 2016, it’s time for that yearly exercise in goal setting - the New Year’s Resolution. Most resolutions never get realized; my assumption is that because we’re all
worthless, lazy and weak-willed. Just kidding, my real assumption is that we focus on the end point rather than processes that will help us reach goals. Setting goals without the steps to achieve
those goals is just wishful thinking - go buy a lottery ticket and wait for your fortune. It also helps to not be drunk when goal setting.
One resolution I have for the coming year is to grow my voiceover business. That’s all well and good, but I can’t do that if I don’t commit to:
Attending 2-3 networking events
Scheduled outreach to clients and prospects
Continue to tweak and improve my recording studio
I also am looking at 2016 to not engage in politics on Facebook. I have many folks I'm connected to on social media that I politically disagree with because they’re ignorant jackasses. See how I was a troll in that last sentence - social media allows us to be trolls. Also, politics distracts from my business and other pursuits. I know where I stand on the issues and pretty much on the candidates. Distancing myself includes:
Looking at social media less overall
Hiding posts I find particularly egregious
Reminding myself that social media is an echo-chamber
In 2016, I want to live healthier. This is a common resolution that will require me to continue to:
Walk 12,000 steps/day
Eat more fruits and veggies
Eat fewer snack foods like crackers, chocolate, and ice cream
Say no to birthday cake
I also want to use 2016 to venture into other projects:
Publish at least one blog post per month
Start a podcast
Publish my novel or children’s stories
Or at least record audio versions of them
I hope you set some goals for yourself in 2016 also! Happy New Year!
If you’re a freelance creative professional or small business and you haven’t you sent Holiday cards to your clients and customers, my question to you is WHY? Did you dedicate your free time to
learning scrimshaw? Perhaps you were getting up-to-date on all the Star Wars movies before “The Force Awakens” opens? Or maybe your fantasy football team needed a couple of tweaks? If any of
these are the case, just stop freelancing and find a job where somebody pays you to show up somewhere on time. If you were caught up in something more important such, as a health scare, then by
all means give yourself a pass.
Holiday cards are sticky...they are proof to your clients, customers and friendly prospects that they are actually important to you. Following Harry Potter threads on Quora does not fall into
that same category. Every year, I create a Holiday card and mail it (yes, an actual card, and, yes, snail mail) to my clients. This is my way of thanking the people who help sustain my business
year over year, whether they’ve done one project with me, or request my services on a regular basis. Let me repeat: I mail my clients a Holiday card because they are important to me and sustain
my business, and it is a way of thanking them.
There are several sites out there that have pre-designed Holiday cards. I created my own cards using Canva*, an online
graphic design platform. I find Canva incredibly easy to use, cost effective (usually free or $1 for an image), and I can play around with designs until I get one I like. I design my
postcards and social media images in Canva also.
My card might be a little corny, but I wanted the message to be personal. I wanted it to reflect my passion for using my voice, whether it be as a snowman, narrating an e-learning course, or being the voice in an ad campaign. Now, go out and create your own card and show your customers that you are thinking about them this Holiday Season!
….and HAPPY HOLIDAYS to you!
*Just a side note: Canva has not paid for any promotional consideration in this blog. If they wanted to kick a few ducats my way for a voiceover project, I would not say no.
Thanksgiving is the best holiday of the year. It’s less stress than Christmas, no one expects you to push your limits like New Year’s Eve, and there’s no real risk of blowing your fingers off while playing with fireworks like on The Fourth of July. On Thanksgiving, you just gather with people and eat some food (OK - a lot of food) and roll your eyes that the Detroit Lions are once again on TV. Thanksgiving also gives us a great reason to pause and reflect, before the madness that is the Holiday Season.
Here are some of the things I’m thankful for
For my wife - she’s pretty great! We can still take in artistic events, listen to music and share childcare. Plus she willingly makes two of my favorite desserts: carrot cake, pecan pie.
She’s also got a great voice, and it’s a joy to hear her sing...
Our fifteen-year-old’s creative risk taking - trying out for plays, continuing to push her artistic ability.
Plus she learned the F chord on the guitar after many struggles with it
The eight-year-old’s rocket left arm and ability to command the strike zone.
And that he loves a good game of Scrabble.
The two-year-old’s grasp of language.
And her creativity in making up games like “Mushroom Marble Whale.” This is a game where we take mancala marbles and put them on the cover of the book Whale.
That I can still read books to her.
That I can still make up voices for my kids’ stuffed animals and this is what makes them laugh during photo sessions.
Making people laugh, in general, especially when I am pushing the boundaries of good taste and annoying my wife.
For all the music in my household - even the ear worms. Lately the two-year-old subjects us to the repetition of “The Unicorn:” a pleasant song about beautiful animals drowning in Noah’s flood as punishment for playfulness.
That my kids can logically think about the plausibility of Noah’s Ark, but also be scared there might be some evil creature in an open closet.
That my wife allows me to pursue this crazy voiceover business despite its uncertainty.
That the voiceover business is a struggle - nothing worthwhile comes easy.
For other talented voiceover professionals and what I can learn from them.
For the hummingbirds that visited our feeder all summer.
For the house finches that made a nest above our downspout.
For Tom Brady and Bill Belichick.
For Fenway park.
For David Ortiz and his great career.
For the Kansas City Royals - long my second favorite team in baseball.
For my clients and our great working relationships.
For well-written, clean copy that rolls off the tongue while recording.
After every terrorist attack, mass shooting, natural disaster, or any other senseless tragedy, I find myself asking what can I do to make the world a less cruel place? This week, I’ve been asking that question again, after the attacks in Paris. While I might not be in position to remove the threat of ISIS, there are ways I can make the world a less cruel place.
I can start with my family...being here to answer questions about the attacks, their safety, and the state of the world overall. I can spend time with my children to show them that the world can be kind as well as cruel.
I can give money... to charities that help those in need: victims of war or terrorism. I can donate to local charities that help those less fortunate than I.
I can give time...I coach baseball, am the photographer for my son’s Cub Scout pack, and narrate audiobooks for Perkins School for the Blind. With three kids at home, I’ve got a lot on my plate already, but surely there is something more I can do...
I can create something beautiful...to share with the world. A song, a poem, a painting that expresses hope.
What can I do to make the world a less cruel place? is a question that transcends the needs of my business.
Be shocked by the events that unfolded in Paris last Friday, but double down in your efforts to make the world a more humane place.
It was a rough inning. The pitcher had only recorded two outs on 40 pitches. There were four runs already, a few walks, and a hit batter. The catcher thought his job title was more of a recommendation than an actual job description, thus any runner at first base ran to second on a passed ball. After the hit batter, the pitcher, visibly shaken, asked to come out. He was on the verge of tears. Just the week before he had pitched two solid innings. This time it was only two outs. Since then, this player has reluctantly pitched when we needed him. Keep in mind that this player is only 10.
I’ve coached T-Ball and other levels of baseball development and am now coaching a team with 3rd, 4th and 5th graders. With T-Ball you had to watch for inattentiveness - grass pulling, dirt kicking, and in one instance a player who got drilled in the head when he had his back to the play (he had a helmet on). In general the kids didn’t take anything to heart because everyone gets to bat, you hit a stationary object and can only take one base at a time. In our league, the development league before “Majors” level Little League, the stakes are higher: called balls and strikes, outs at bases, three outs in an inning, the knowledge of who won and who lost, pitchers who put pressure on themselves when the defense lets them down, and umps who are frequently wrong.
This past weekend our team fell to 3-5 after two Thursday night games followed by Saturday morning games. We are now on a 4-game losing streak, and the kids continue to put enormous pressure on themselves. If our baseball season were a 1980s sitcom, there would be some take home lesson about learning to handle adversity. Maybe there is some of that with these kids. With my own son, I often have to remind him that it’s just a game, the umps are going to blow some calls and that he needs to focus on the next play. Part of my job as a coach is guide these players through whatever it is they are feeling and help them build success. The kid who doesn’t swing? I’m trying to help him develop fielding skills. Another kid who can’t hit? He’s been great at first base.
the tough season, I am amazed at the resilience and talent these kids can show - our fireballing third-grade lefty who pounds the strike zone and strikes fear into the opposing team, our
defensive wizard who can catch anything, the kid who has such command of the strike zone that he gets on base at an .800 clip (that’s real good!), our catcher and only girl on our team who stays
in when she gets hit by a foul ball, the center-fielder who caught a fly ball and doubled off a runner at first.
In our most recent loss - a Saturday blowout because our fireballing third grade lefty was unavailable threw 60 pitches on Thursday - the kids finally let loose. Led by our catcher, the whole team started to Whip and Nae Nae in the dugout. It was a good sign that they could still have fun with baseball and not take it so seriously.
As a freelancer, it’s a lesson I should heed as well. There’s no frustration that a little Whipping and Nae Naeing can’t cure.
I had almost forgotten how important vacations are as it had been so long since I actually took one. After getting back from some family time in the Outer Banks, I recognized that I had fallen into some unappealing ruts. Being on vacation with my family was a good reminder that some routines are just fallback positions, and that I can live without checking Twitter all day, or keeping up-to-date with all the latest baseball statistics. Most importantly, the microphone stayed in Massachusetts.
I spent some time on the beach and in the pool with my kids and various nieces and nephews. We played pool and chess. We scoured the beach for crabs at dusk. We admired sunsets. I spent some time reading an actual novel. I got precious time alone in the morning before the whole house woke up. We saw what appeared to be a squadron of pelicans flying over the beach. Kites were flown.
We ventured out into the waves despite the recent shark attacks. I figured that anyone with a boogie board was going to get eaten before me and sharks don’t really have a taste for human flesh anyway. At one point my nephew saw what he thought was a shark in the water – but cooler heads prevailed and we realized he had only seen a bird. The waves pounded me nearly senseless breaking over my head and chest.
When it was time to leave, it was time to leave. Now I’m glad to be back with my microphone.
Tommy's life proves it is still possible to have a meaningful life despite your obstacles. He will be missed.
If you’re a freelancer, small business owner, or in any type of sales role, you will eventually have to deal with the PSYSOB (pronounced “sigh sob”). The PSYSOB is the prospect that tells you to “Pound Sand, You SonOfaB****.” They may not say it in these exact words, but there’s very little room for doubt as to their meaning.
The PSYSOB pounces on your timid, pushy, interrupted-their-day, not-relevant, poorly-explained, or you-don’t-understand-their-business-and-overwhleming-lack-of-interest sales pitch. You may want to cry or punch the PSYSOB in the face, depending on how you handle rejection. Crying is the better option as it will less likely result in an assault charge. If you’re on a phone call with the PSYSOB, you’ll want to smash the phone. This is okay if it’s a land line, not so okay if it’s your iPhone. You will need a new phone.
It could also be that the PSYSOB has had a rough day - is in the midst of a divorce or death in the family. Maybe the PSYSOB’s business is crashing no one wants to do business with a PSYSOB. The PSYSOB could be balding - trust me, this is a reason for despair. Fair enough, but the PSYSOB is also a bully and gets off on an aggression. In short, the PSYSOB gives in to the Dark Side of the Force.
The best thing to do at this point is sign the PSYSOB up for a variety of email newsletters. Actually that’s a bad idea because the less time you waste on the PSYSOB the better. Face it: there are clients who want to talk about your products or services, and those people will actually pay you for your time and skill, and twill be happy with the value you provide. Those people are worth your time. The PSYSOB is not worth your time.
Is Hamster Wheelin' is killing your creativity?
Hamster Wheelin' is the time we spend killing time. It could be a menial, mundane tasks, performing the same inefficient task over and over again, endlessly monitoring social media (Facebook, Twitter), or just waiting for the clock to run out.
If you're Hamster Wheelin' there is no forward progress. You're Sisyphus and that stupid rock. The first couple of days it's not so bad - look! you got a rock up a hill! Accomplishment! But then it settles in that every day it’s the same rock and the same hill, and pushing that rock is just activity for activity's sake, and the rock will be waiting for you tomorrow.
Some days you have to do the dirty work: invoicing, prospecting, cleaning up your database. Those things are all part of doing business. It's only Hamster Wheelin' when you’ve sucked yourself into an activity that prevents you or your business from growing (cat videos, anyone?)
So, how do you get off the wheel? The first step is to recognize that Hamster Wheelin’ does not bring out the best in you; it keeps you in place. Take a walk. Take a shower. Listen to a podcast. Call a friend. Volunteer your time. Anything to get you out of the rut you're in will put you in a different frame of mind and get you off the wheel.
The universe may only be 14.6 billion years old, give or take a week, but we humans get only a small chunk of that time. Every day we encounter Time Villains who want to deprive us of precious minutes we could be spending with family, writing that novel, or quietly meditating. Take control of your own time by avoiding these 8 types of Time Villains:
Here we are – on the threshold of 2015. This is the time of year when many people look forward after making lists of things that happened in the previous year. Since we can’t go backward in time – despite the plot twists of many movies, we can only look ahead. Many people aim for generic resolutions: lose weight, quit smoking, find new places to bury the bodies.
While well intentioned, most New Year’s resolutions are not so sticky – probably because they are vague and do not involve any sort of behavior change. “Not eating birthday cake at the office” would be a better resolution than “eat healthier.”
That said, here are my 2015 goals – call them resolutions if you will. I’ve broken them down into Personal goals, business goals, and aspirational goals – which will require more effort:
If you’re reading this, I hope it's not to kill time. Now go out and have a great 2015!
You might be dreaming of a white Christmas, and so will we here in Central/Eastern Massachusetts. The latest reports are that we will have a wet Christmas. I blame the meteorologists – they could at least find a way to get their heads together to bring us snow. It might actually be a good thing to not have snow should Santa bring my second grader a left-handed catcher’s mitt, but then I don’t imagine him wanting to play catch on a cold and rainy day.
I also don’t imagine him believing that Santa brought the mitt. Last year that same second grader was in first grade when he gave up the ghost on Santa. Logic, reason, and persistent demands for the truth finally won out. The school bus was where he first heard the rumor that Santa is not real; if you do not have children, the school bus is a rolling experiment in social Darwinism designed to crush the spirit and innocence of your children. It was traumatic for him to give up that belief. In hindsight I should have said, “You can’t handle the truth!” but only I would have got the joke, and Jack Nicholson impressions are so overdone.
In order to get over the trauma, he decided that he would pretend to believe in Santa for the benefit of his sister – who is now 21 months old. She still doesn’t grasp the concept that Santa brings presents to all the good boys and girls, makes lists, and has trained flying reindeer – although one of her favorite toys is a plush Rudolph whose nose no longer glows. She thinks that ornaments are just bracelets that hang from the tree.
Next year, when she is two going on three, Santa will be real and magical. And when she demands the truth in a few years, I’ll hesitate before impersonating Jack Nicholson.
There's a lot to be thankful for this Thanksgiving. For me there is, at least. It's not my job to tell you what you should be thankful for. Here's only a partial list of things for which I am thankful.
I'm surrounded by creative, talented people; both personally and professionally.
My wife's singing voice.
The elaborate, imaginative games my seven-year-old son creates with costumes and newly discovered old toys.
The attention to detail my fourteen-year-old niece gives to arts and crafts.
The boxes, and packaging materials that helped us move to our new house, and now serve as toys for my twenty-month-old daughter.
Turtles. Especially those that say, "Ribbit."
A certain giraffe named Gerry (my daughter’s lovey).
My new studio set up. The sound is so much
cleaner, with fewer audio distractions.
Speaking of that, I get to step up to the microphone for some great clients and put a voice to their vision.
My children have access to quality education and
My daughter still likes to listen to me read books.
That my son and niece sometimes likes to listen in as I read to her.
The bold taste of black coffee on the back of my tongue.
I'm mostly left handed. Trust me, being a lefty is special.
Introducing my niece to the Serial podcast after her English class completed a unit in 12 Angry Men.
Playing catch outside with my son.
The curve of the whiffle ball on a summer evening.
A nice glass of red wine shared with my wife.
The excited sound of “Daddy!” when I pick my daughter up at day care and that she no longer cries when I leave her in the morning.
The voice of an old friend calling.
An old client with a new project.
A new client calling out of the blue.
Carrot Cake and a glass of milk.
That the inside of my car does not smell like cigarettes.
That I can choose to or not choose to throw elbows on Black Friday.
Still trying to decide on Hanley Ramirez and Pablo Sandoval.
A juicy soft delicious peach.
Health insurance, and access to some of the best healthcare in the world
For people who try to affect a positive change as opposed to resorting to trolling and name calling. Those people make me want to be a better person.
That said, I hope you have a wonderful
Thanksgiving and have plenty to be thankful for.
Like me, you probably don't spend your days contemplating turtles – but turtles may provide you with an unanticipated shot of creativity. It's not that I have anything against turtles, they are marvelous animals after all. They carry their home with them wherever they go which is convenient if you've had too much to drink, don't feel like driving all night, or just want to pick up and move out of state. They figure prominently as teenage mutant ninjas. Heck, even a relative of the turtle (a tortoise mind you) bested that cocky hare in a foot race.
But then I started thinking about turtles a lot, and for that I have my daughter to thank. She's 20 months old, and a few months ago she declared that turtles say, "Ribbit." She was positively reinforced by the laughter and smiles she got in response - who can resist a toddler saying, "Ribbit?" It could be that she met the world's first bilingual turtle - if so that turtle has a bright future helping frogs and turtles communicate.
And then one day I drew a turtle for her. She asked for another and another and another. "Daddy, draw a blue turtle." "Daddy, draw a red turtle." Daddy, draw a orn-jinge [sic] turtle?" I draw. She colors. Soon our paper is populated with crudely drawn turtles of different colors. I then tried giraffes, whales, sharks and owls, but she always came back to turtles. Lots of turtles. Her stuffed one-eyed (it wasn't glued on very well) pink turtle inspired the song "I'm a turtle swimming in the water/I'm a pink turtle bloop, bloop, bloop!"
Turtles had become so much a part of our life, that my wife commissioned my friend Joe to weld/sculpt a turtle out of found metal parts. That's his creation in the photo. As a side note, his work is truly amazing. When he and I talked about the process, Joe mentioned that creating turtle was a challenge – this from a guy who welded an enormous giraffe. He had to think about his process differently. My daughter was so amazed when she saw the turtle that she wanted to pick it up, but couldn’t lift it. She settled for sitting on it and patting it.
So, while my daughter insisted that turtles say, “Ribbit,” she sparked a small wave of creativity, gave us some time together to create art, and brought into our life a wonderful welded sculpture. Lesson? Accept what you think might be wrong, and see where it leads you.
So, does your turtle say, "Ribbit?"
Consider the Box. More specifically, consider the phrase, “Think outside the Box.” The person who coined the phrase was actually using outside the box thinking at the time. Like many good phrases, though, “Think outside the box,” has become a cliché. Once innovative, “Think outside the box” is now “out of the box” – or prefabricated - thinking. “Think outside the box” now sits there for anyone who “thinks inside the box” (i.e. followers, sheep, non-creatives, middle management), to use as a crutch-phrase (like catch phrase, but more lame) when an actual solution is needed.
Inside versus outside the box thinking isn’t really the solution to any problem. The solution is how we actually view the box. In other words, how do we view the set of constraints placed upon us when finding a solution?
A recent meme suggested that we actually do away with the box. That simply doesn’t work. The box sets the boundaries. Jackson Pollack, for all his inventiveness, still used a canvas, after all. Getting rid of the box, just spills paint on the floor – any toddler could help with that.
The box can be a tool. When my family and I recently moved, I had the pleasure of contemplating many boxes used in this manner, such as the one on the photo above. My arms contemplated the weight of the boxes against the awkwardness of carrying more than one. These were the utilitarian, “let’s move these boxes,” boxes. Although my son did get creative with some of the labeling and my daughter asked me to draw a turtle on another. (Just a side note, my daughter believes turtles say "Ribbit," which is an outside the box view of turtles).
When it has finished serving it's purpose as the carryer of stuff, a used box is a doorway, or a canvas onto which we project our imagination. The box is, after all in the toy hall of fame -
A box can be re-used, recycled and repurposed. It can contain fragile glassware, books no longer read, or contain memories that are best left boxed and in the corner of the garage. Special memories can also be unlocked once the memory box is found.
So the next time someone tells you to “think outside the box,” tell them that you are working at putting the box to use.
Just make sure you do it right.
I received two rather curious, and incorrectly targeted emails in my inbox last week.
You may have heard about the first in the news. Shutterfly, the online store where you can buy any photo related item – prints, mugs, calendars, keychains, billboard covers and casket liners (I made up the last two) – sent an email congratulating me on my “new arrival.”
Since my daughter is now 14 months old, I thought it was just a touch late, was a little concerned they were mining data from photos I had uploaded, and then simply deleted it. I get so much email from Shutterfly – celebrate Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, Flag Day, Christmas, Easter, the Ides of March, NFL Draft Day - that I didn’t think much of it.
It turns out that Shutterfly hadn’t mistakenly targeted the parent of an almost toddler with a message aimed at new parents; it had sent this email out to a large number of people who do not have or cannot have young children at all. Oops. Shuttefly was so chastened that I received not one, but two emails apologizing for the mistake.
While I may no longer have an infant, I am most certainly married. Happily. And with two children. I also love baseball. Specifically the Boston Red Sox. It’s no surprise that I am on the Red Sox email list, but I was taken aback to receive an email inviting me to “Meet Single Red Sox Fans Near You!” I thought my wife might take exception:
I receive a lot of emails from the Red Sox – offers to buy shirts, hats, apparel, tickets, Caribbean cruise, luggage, branded wallpaper, etc. An email offering to hook me up with Red Sox fans seems a bit much. Their current losing streak seems to have coincided with this unfortunate email campaign.
Both Shutterfly and the Boston Red Sox offer instructional lessons in targeting. Make sure you are sending the right message to the right targets, and make sure those targets are properly segmented. As a voice actor and a small business owner, I strive to keep my messages and outreach relevant. I am not reaching out to CFOs, IT people, or mimes to introduce myself.
If you’re targeting a married man with an almost toddler and a first grader who loves baseball, perhaps a photo book, and discounts on tickets would be better offers than those aimed at a single man with a newborn looking for a date.
We often cruise through life not wanting to stand out. When we meet someone new it is a bland conversation about weather, family, weekend activities or work. Not that there’s anything wrong with
these conversation topics, mind you. I’m guilty of it, also. It helps to tell people that I’m a voice actor – instant icebreaker.
Recently, I had met a couple that sought to be a bit different. It was a coffee hour gathering and they were wearing nametags. I noticed his nametag first, it offered the tagline: “Married to a reasonable person.” Then I noticed hers: “A reasonable person.”
Naturally, I asked how she knew she was reasonable. Her reply was that she was once unreasonable, but has since become reasonable and that now she “just know[s] it.” She then asked if I thought she seemed reasonable. I gauged that the couple did not take themselves too seriously before I said: “Often I find if you have to say it, it isn’t true.”
They laughed, thankfully. Sometimes, people who don’t know me find my sense of humor hard to take at first. As I thought about this encounter, I realized that this couple had created a brand for themselves and natural conversation starter.
So, how do we best create a personal brand without repelling other people? For starters, try to avoid the weather, or jokes about dead bodies buried in the basement. Like the couple I met at the coffee hour, you could focus on some aspect of your personality that makes people take notice. I think I’ll make my nametag say: “Silly man with a serious voice.”
The Doughboy Dash is only 2 days away!
Anyone who donates more than $50 to Team Vallancourt (http://www.atcp.org/vallancourt) - can have me, a professional, trained voice actor, record your telephone greeting. Whatever you want (select reading from 50 Shades of Grey?), in whichever voice I can do (drunk Big Bird is always a hit). This is a great cause, and our nephew Andrew is a great kid...
Our wonderful nephew, Andrew, has A-T. What is A-T you ask?
Imagine a disease that combines the worst symptoms of muscular dystrophy, cerebral palsy, cystic fibrosis, immune deficiencies, and cancer. Children with A-T are usually confined to
wheelchairs by age 10 and often do not survive their teens. Because A-T is a multi-system disease, scientists believe that A-T research will help more prevalent diseases such as
Alzheimer’s, Parkinson’s, AIDS, and cancer.
- See more at: http://www.atcp.org/vallancourt#sthash.Klm8hnTe.dpuf
Please consider supporting us by sponsoring us in the Doughboy Dash in honor of Andrew. Any and all support is greatly appreciated. No donation is too small.
Apparently you can’t be all things to all people.
Like any business, voiceover is not for the faint of heart or the thin of skin or the thin of heart. Inevitably there will be clients who reach out to you thinking that you are what they need, only to find that they have a different vision of what you actually offer. In this case it might be best to get your payment up front.
This happened to me recently. I sent in a sample read for one of many proposed videos, and did not hear from the client for almost a week. It was then that it was revealed that the end client was just not that into me – and this after negotiating a price.
Apparently my sound is too “mellow.” Or friendly, or something. They were looking for Denis Leary, and I am not Denis Leary (or James Earl Jones, or Sam Elliott, or Denholm Elliott for that matter). They were looking for someone to sound just a bit snarky and with a slight edge. The funny thing is that I am snarky and have a slight edge. I have a caustic wit, but just sound like a friendly nice guy – and was completely wrong for the client’s vision of the project.
So I’ve been taking the “lemonade” approach. In the end – if the client did not think I was right for the project, it was going to be take after take after take of trying to get to the right place, turning my quoted price closer to minimum wage than into a fair payment for effort. Hours I could spend marketing to actual clients who think I’m right for their projects would have been frittered away for a client who is unsure.
If you have a small business, or freelance as I do, I’m sure this has happened to you as well. Sure you lose out on the business, but it frees you up to find clients/customers who value what you do.
Just recently someone I was once close to reached out to me with expressing regret. The regret being that we had not spent enough time together in recent years. I replied that I think of regret as a “sad, useless, and wasteful emotion” because it is backward looking rather than forward looking. “Regret” implies that one’s life is somehow incomplete because of actions taken or not taken some time ago.
Not to say that I don’t have regrets (I’ve had a few). Regret can be helpful if used as a learning experience to set us on the right path. But when regret is dwelled upon, it simply festers into a sea of what ifs and is compounded by more bad decisions and more regret. A person living in the past has no focus on the present and no hope for the future.
So how does this translate to voiceover? When I started doing voiceover, people often asked if I regretted not doing it sooner. The answer then was “yes” but now the answer is “no.” I’ve always had the vocal skills – my family can attest to all the different voices for stuffed animals and the angry, drunken Big Bird impression that makes my kids giggle. The years I spent in sales and marketing and the skills I have learned in those positions have helped me in my voiceover business – how to find and connect with prospective clients, how to communicate in short bursts of focused attention, how to let rejection slide, and how to have no regrets and move forward.
Although, someday I may regret teaching the kids that Big Bird impression (hint: he really hates Elmo).
Snow days are great days for creativity. It’s like showering or a vacation – the snow upsets the rhythm of the ordinary and forces you to meet new challenges. My neighbors digging through the
roughly one foot of snow we got in this most recent storm might have some disagreements with me on that count, but hey, I dug through it also, so let your mind wander.
Today, I spent the early evening trudging through the snow with my son while he imagined us being chased by bears and mountain lions that hated to have snowballs thrown at them. Understandable. I envisioned the ground underneath where we play baseball as hibernating, waiting for the snow to melt and coming alive with the first pitch of spring.
One snowy day, when I was much younger, my cousins and I started recording a an audio improvisational play using a boom box and a cassette tape that we called “The Snowy Day.” It started as a three kids talking about a snowy day, and then evolved into a crime story. I recall it was a murder mystery, which was likely the result of too much television. Crime, after all, is conflict while nice play on a snowy day is not.
Retailers and manufacturers are always looking for something new to offer. Now that the calendar has flipped to 2014, we’re likely to see new feature sets, improvements, and upgrades on many
products in an effort to make them generate buzz, keep up with competitors, or even offer a better product. Even before the dust settles from the holiday season, retailers will get ready for the
coming spring/summer, by clearing their shelves and bringing in new product with the season’s new colors, fabrics and textures.
Those of us in media production have only one product: our unique skill set. With that skill set we make the things our clients request. My voice is my primary product. My voice isn’t subject to seasonal whims or anything that can be upgraded with a new feature. My voice does not come with a new online summer catalog, or Back to School savings in the summertime. There is no Chris’ Voice 2.0 with a new setting for teenage girl or “In a World”-type movie intros.
While I can alter my voice to create characters such as an old man, my son’s stuffed bear, my daughter’s orca whale, or even sound like Big Bird (it’s a fun party trick), it is still fundamentally my voice. That said, I do have some control over my voice and can meet the demands of client scripts that are right for me. In 2013, I was a young salesperson, a compliance professional, a corporate trainer, a golf instructor, and a person angry with an energy utility, among others. While I did sell compliance software for some time, I’ve never played a game of golf that did not involve a windmill.
So for 2014, I’ll have the same voice as I did in 2013, but there’s no telling who this voice can be.
Christo’s has served its last meal.
For the uninitiated, Christo’s is a restaurant in my home city of Brockton, MA. Former Governor and Presidential candidate, Michael Dukakis, christened the now deceased owner, Christos Tsaganis, the “Greek Salad King.” Christo’s was a throwback to a bygone era in which time stopped in 1979. There were four color-coded rooms: the Red and Blue rooms were nondescript with vinyl seating in the aforementioned colors, while the Green Room contained the bar. The Gold Room, however, whisked you back in time. It can only be described as a wooden column/structure that was meant to be evocative of a golden fountain. Access to the Gold Room or any room was granted by Christo himself: Christos Tsaganis. He would announce your party and room in a thick Greek accent over the microphone: “Vallancourt, party of four to the Gold Room.” The only voiceover audition he might win was as himself.
It’s been almost a year since the founder and owner passed away, and now his building has been sold to a local community college. Its doors closed on New Year’s Eve. His daughters plan to open a takeout restaurant, but the atmosphere will be gone.
Whenever I think of Christo’s, I immediately have a taste sensation: the greasy bar-style pepperoni pizza with the thin crust that I consumed frequently while growing up. It also reminds me of the signature Greek salad, covered with feta cheese and smothered in Greek dressing. My grandparents lived about a mile from Christo’s and it was our frequent takeout spot. I always favored that pepperoni pizza. My family did not like feta cheese, so the Greek salad was always cheese-less until I learned better.
Waiting for takeout, you could see in the kitchen as the line cooks moved with speed and precision to finish all the restaurant orders and the takeout orders.
It would never win any awards for new and adventurous cuisine, but Christo’s perfected a repeatable process. It was the place to go when you could think of nowhere else. You always knew what you were going to get, and were never disappointed.
My last meal at Christo’s was just a few days before Christo’s closed for good. I found myself making last minute plans with an old friend who grew up in the area, but whom I met after moving to Boston. It was my first time there with her. My family came along, too, as my six-year-old son wanted one last hamburger. After a two-hour wait and a seat in the Gold Room the pepperoni pizza and Greek salad tasted the same as always.
This past weekend we introduced our infant daughter to the yearly ritual that is the slaughter of the evergreen tree. Proudly we mounted the butchered tree on our car and drove it home as the
flakes began to fall. "See, baby girl," I said to my baby girl, "we slaughter evergreen trees and put them on display in our living rooms as a reminder to the trees that they are not to mess with
I then told her that we further humiliate the tree by decorating it in lights and tinsel and hang decorations from its limbs. Many of the decorations are smiling snowmen or jolly guys in red suits that laugh in the face of this so-called “majestic” tree. And then the tree is expected to stand there and take it as we open gifts, laugh, and be merry in general.
And then, when its sap has dried up, we throw it out onto the lawn and curse its needles. We then haul it to the dump and throw it into a grave with all the other composting evergreen trees. The living trees remember to mind their manners until next year after Thanksgiving when we have to remind them again.
My daughter laughs at the tree also, pulls at its branches, and spreads needles on the floor. I have taught her well.
For my wife and me, the day Nelson Mandela died is the day Santa Claus ceased to exist for our first grader, and the day we learned that our infant daughter had not outgrown her (treatable) heart
condition. These things are all separate occurrences grouped together, because, as humans, we like to group and categorize. Some people believe that things happen in threes, notably celebrity
deaths, but my son’s belief in Santa and my daughter’s health aren’t on equal footing with the death of Nelson Mandela.
For my son, the end of Santa marked the end of a difficult day. Some kids were mean at school and on the bus, and his mother and I had to take his baby sister to the pediatrician where it was discovered that her (again treatable) heart condition had not gone away like was originally thought three weeks ago.
It was just recently that he no longer believed in the Tooth Fairy. Then it was the Easter Bunny. And yesterday, he kept asking whether Santa Claus is real. “What do you think?” I asked in reply. And he kept hounding me, and his sister’s diaper was full, and he kept hounding, “Tell me the truth, I want the truth. Is Santa real?” and I kept replying, “What do you think?” “Well, the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny aren’t real, so…” “What do you think?” I asked. “Santa isn’t real…”
I couldn’t lie to him. I want him to be skeptical, to question the reality that others expound as truth. Where he was gleeful to know about the Tooth Fairy and Easter Bunny, he was devastated by Santa. Perhaps we should give him something to really believe in and tell him about Nelson Mandela.
This morning I woke up to a barrage of “Cyber Monday” emails offering deals on products that are not on my Holiday shopping target list. Among the offers: restaurant gift cards, business cards
and printing, holiday cards from local charities, and, of course, a plethora of retailers. All the offers headed straight for the email trash bin.
As usual there were reports of fights in the retail cage match known as “Black Friday” which can now start on Thanksgiving itself. I can’t imagine much thanks involved with fistfights over towels. The “Black Friday” deals cluttered inboxes across the land well before the Thanksgiving turkey was even bought.
Why don't we rename Thanksgiving Weekend, “White Noise Weekend?” The more retailers attempt to hype their deals, the more those deals fall into the clutter of background noise that makes me want to take a nap to sleep off my Thanksgiving meal.
As I found myself invested in the outcome of another World Series, it looked like the 2013 version would carry the unofficial tag line – “Mistakes Were Made.” Fielders seemed uninterested in
catching the ball, often necessary when turning a double play or making outs. Balls were thrown around the field in imitation of a tee-ball practice. A base runner even tripped over a fielder who
had been trying to play a ball and was ruled safe due to interference (?). A base runner was picked off at first base to end a game. Mistakes were made.
But then the Red Sox kept winning – Games Four, Five and Six to cement the World Series victory – the third in the last 10 years and third in my lifetime. Each World Series victory for the Red Sox is bittersweet. My Grandfather (Gramp) introduced me to the Red Sox, and brought me to my first game (11th inning walk off single for Carl Yastrzemski). Gramp died in 1999 – well before 2004, 2007 and now 2013. He was only a baby in 1918, and never got to enjoy a World Series victory.
Gramp and I had Yaz’s last game at Fenway Park, Mike Boddicker’s first game for the Red Sox, Roger Clemens, Jim Rice, Dwight Evans and a whole host of other players. Before he died, he would tell me, “That Pee-dro’s pretty good, huh?” I didn’t bother to correct his pronunciation – he would not have been good at this voiceover thing.
Baseball continues to run in my family. My wife and I were married two days after Aaron Boone hit a walk-off homer off Tim Wakefield in the 2003 ALCS. My wife claims that we would have skipped our honeymoon had the Red Sox advanced to the World Series. We got to share the victory in 2004, and again in 2007 when our son was just seven months old. Our first-grader has morphed into a full-fledged baseball obsessive, as well. Just this year we saw – Albert Pujols homer, Ortiz homer, Jake Peavey’s first game at Fenway, Matt Moore outclass the Red Sox, and the Red Sox clinch the American League East. He even got to run the bases at Fenway Park.
Gramp and I understood something about baseball, though – World Series victories are nice, but the history and togetherness of baseball really matter. For that I still wear a t-shirt honoring his favorite player – Ted Williams.
Mistakes were made, and then they weren't. The lesson? We're never as far from victory as we think we are, and it's often the journey that matters.
When I see the phrase “Check out my…”, I grab the bridge of my nose and shake my head as I wonder why anyone would so easily telegraph their amateur status. Then I facepalm. This is often someone
new to a LinkedIn group imploring group members to “check out my…” business venture, blog, website, demo tracks, photographs, tribute to the hair bands of the 1980s, investment opportunity, work
from home scheme, or puddle dancing tips for rainy days.
I am not averse to “Checking out” what someone has to offer...if given an actual reason to do so. There is a big difference between “Check out my blog” and a link to an interesting blog post, such as: “6 Ways to Pine Needles Improve Your Voice.” I know which one I would click. If the only thing give me is “Check out my…” then I don’t have a reason to give you the five seconds to click and determine whether I have wasted my time. In other words: what is so interesting?
The answer is nothing, especially if the phrase “If interested” is added to “Check out my…” “If interested” only amplifies the notion that there is nothing of, well, interest. Strung together “If interested check out my…” doesn’t help you find an audience. It’s a hesitant fear of rejection, and you are communicating that you yourself think there may not be something of interest in your company page, collection of cat photos, or thoughts on the migratory habits of monarch butterflies.
Now, if you are interested in a voiceover talent who can…never mind!
This was the year I was supposed to become less obsessed with baseball. I was going to follow it only as a passing fancy in the wake of the Red Sox miserable 2011 and 2012 seasons. But then my
six-year-old became obsessed with baseball.
“When can we play baseball?” is a common refrain at my house. This is usually followed by a trip outside to play Wiffle Ball. We’ve christened our Wiffle ball field after the name of our street. We’ve worn out dirt patches where I pitch and he hits. We pretend to be different teams depending on the matchup he is most interested in. My ERA is hovering around the 29.00 range.
Being a voiceover talent, I also get the job of “announcing” the game as well. Going into my windup I might say, “Here comes the 2-2 pitch.” Let’s just say I am better at voiceover than pitching. I’ve faced the realization that as I get older and weaker, my son will get older and better, and my fastball will be a barely breaking the school zone speed limit while he begins to crush 300 foot home runs.
My son obsessively checks the stats for all the teams and players on a daily basis. My son claims to like all the teams, although we are by birthright Red Sox fans. So to make it easier for him, I have broken down all 30 teams into a “Rooting Rank.” In other words the team that I, his father, root to win in any given game.
1. Boston Red Sox – My first game at Fenway Park saw the Sox win in 11 with the game winner driven in by Yaz. I’ve seen Pedro, Clemens, Rice, Boggs, Dewey, among others. I’ve seen the Sox win, and I’ve seen them lose. My son recently saw Big Papi hit a home run, and his excitement was sheer joy. He then got to run the bases at Fenway Park.
2. Chicago Cubs – We have a stuffed bear that we call Little Brown Bear. He happens to be a Cubs fan (get it?) Little Brown Bear channels his voice through me as do all our stuffed animals (I am a voiceover artist, after all). Plus we get to watch some Cubs games on cable.
3. San Francisco Giants – I would actually live in San Francisco, which puts the Giants higher on my list. They were a lot lower when a certain large headed outfielder was hitting lots of chemically aided home runs, but their recent World Series teams have been fun to watch.
4. Kansas City Royals – I have always liked the KC uniforms, and recall those early ‘80s teams fondly. Kansas City has long been part of baseball’s history also – from the Kansas City Monarchs to the Kansas City Athletics, and home to the Negro Leagues Baseball Museum.
5. Arizona Diamondbacks – My son played for the Diamondbacks in T-Ball this year, and wore #7 in honor of Cody Ross who was his favorite player on the Sox last year and is now on the D’Backs. I wouldn’t like to come across a real diamondback in the wild, though.
6. Pittsburgh Pirates – After years of misery it’s nice to see the Pirates winning. The Pirates won the very first World Series I paid attention to. Although I was rooting for the other team at the time. Isn’t it time for them to bring back the cake tier hats?
7. Cincinnati Reds – I was three when the Sox lost to the Reds in 1975, but it was an all time classic. The 1990 Reds beat the original juicers.
8. St. Louis Cardinals – Cardinals fans showed a lot of class when the Red Sox won in 2004. Great team with lots of tradition. Then there was my grandmother. When I saw a cardinal outside I said, “A St. Louis Cardinal.” She replied, “No, that’s a Kentucky Cardinal and it followed me here.” She was from Kentucky.
9. Seattle Mariners - Seattle is another city I would actually move to. Or at least near since so many friends and family are in Oregon.
10. Baltimore Orioles – The team I rooted for in the first World Series I actually watched. They lost, but I still have a soft spot for them. Camden Yards is a great place to see a game.
11. New York Mets – I know. For a Sox fan the Mets are too high on the list. 1986 was 27 years and two Red Sox World Series titles ago. Plus, the Red Sox have had much better recent history. When I was a kid, we could watch Mets games on TV. If I ever move to New York I could not root for the other team.
12. Philadelphia Phillies – If only for the Phillie Phanatic. And memories of Mike Schmidt and Steve Carlton. The Phillies were also the first National League team I saw at Fenway Park.
13. Washington Nationals – If they were still the Montreal Expos this team would easily be #2 on this list. The Vallancourt name comes from Quebec. It does not come from DC.
14. Detroit Tigers – Classic Uni. Great team. Bankrupt city. Plus, Magnum P.I. always wore a Tigers hat. I should grow a mustache and wear a Tigers hat.
15. Los Angeles Dodgers – Yasiel Puig? It’s like Fernando-Mania all over again. The Dodgers would be higher if certain disgruntled former Red Sox players were not on this team.
16. Colorado Rockies – They had the kindness to give the Red Sox a 4 game sweep in the 2007 World Series. Colorado is on my list of places I would actually live.
17. Minnesota Twins – When I was a kid I thought the TC logo on the hat was for Top Cat, one of my favorite cartoons. Just kidding, I had no idea what it was for. Now I know: out door baseball in April is “Totally Cold.”
18. Oakland Athletics – The original juicing team. The original Moneyball team.
19. San Diego Padres – What happened to those ugly brown and gold uniforms from the 1970s and 1980s? I miss them.
20. Los Angeles Angels – They play in Anaheim. They used to be the “California Angels” and now they are the poster children for paying too much for players past their prime.
21. Texas Rangers – The losing team in my very first visit to Fenway Park.
22. Milwaukee Brewers – They used to have much better unis with the classic interlocking “mb” logo. Now they look like a generic advertisement for Miller beer. Since they play in Miller Park that may be the point.
23. Houston Astros – If they were named after the Jetson’s dog we could talk about them being higher.
24. Chicago White Sox – We also have a polar bear who likes this team because he has “White Socks.” Get it?
25. Cleveland Indians – With years of misery former Red Sox manager Terry Francona at the helm, this team should be higher. But they aren’t. No one said this was an objective list. It’s highly subjective.
26. Atlanta Braves – There is a Boston connection. Meaning they played in Boston many decades before I was born. Then moved to Milwaukee. Then they moved to Atlanta. You used to be able to watch their games on TV, but I always rooted for the other team to win.
27. Toronto Blue Jays – True story: my left-handed son just got glasses and now loves lefty reliever Brett Cecil of the Blue Jays who wears glasses. But the Rogers Center is one ugly looking field. Baseball was littered with Astroturf fields in my childhood, and Rogers Center gives me flashbacks.
28. Tampa Bay Rays – They should still be the Devil Rays because Tropicana Field is the collaboration between a weak willed architect and Satan. I’ve been to a game in that monstrosity of a stadium that looks like a drunk decided to park a UFO in St. Petersburg. Seriously.
29. Miami Marlins – Why root for a team that hustled a city into building a stadium? There is no good reason for a city, state or any government entity to use funds to build a sporting complex to enable wealthy people to make more money. None. Although those Negro Leagues throwbacks were nicely done.
30. New York Yankees – Another New York team that is too high on the list.It’s been fun watching the Red Sox compete against this team year in and year out, but no matter how classy Mariano Rivera is, I am always rooting for them to lose. Even if I would live in New York over, say, some other areas. One caveat – as the Yankees continue to lose ground in the AL East, I’ll be rooting for them to beat Baltimore and Tampa Bay.
I was listening to the radio recently and was horrified, not because of any particular news event, or the trials and tribulations of my sports teams. What horrified me was the sound of two local
business owners doing their own radio spot.
The spot was supposed to be a witty banter between the two owners – one female and one male – about how great their heavy equipment rental services are. All I could hear were two grating Boston accents mixed with weak reading. They sounded like two high school students forced to read Shakespeare aloud and not realizing they were reading about sex and violence. Everyone can relate to sex and violence, unless of course they have no idea what the words mean.
Now, I am not the target demographic for this business – I don’t intend to bring home a backhoe just to give it a spin. If I were in the market for heavy equipment, I might not be listening to the radio for inspiration.
I don’t doubt that those business owners may have a natural witty repartee that the producers of the spot were trying to capture. They may even be great people to do business with. However, their spot did their business a disservice. They came off as amateurs and sounded foolish in the process.
Some business owners can handle the demands of radio and/or TV and don’t sound wooden when reading a script. For some reason, this happens to be only furniture dealers; maybe it’s that furniture dealers are natural hucksters. If you are a business owner doing a radio spot, the sound does matter. Either work with a producer who will get you to your comfort zone or hire a professional to be the voice of your brand.
Fenway Park is a great place for kids who love baseball. I am fortunate enough to have a six-year-old who is obsessed with baseball. He even insisted that we leave his friend’s birthday party
early on Sunday because we had tickets to see the Red Sox take on the Angels. Although he did wait until after cake was served. I guess cake takes precedence over obsession.
After a one run homer from Albert Pujols of the Angels, I told him that he saw a potential Hall of Famer hit a home run, and although the Sox were down by a run, his face lit up. It was the David Ortiz three-run homer that put him over the moon though (“I saw my first Ortiz home run!” he shouted). After the Red Sox took the lead, my son kept announcing each pitch, the count, the pitcher’s ERA and the batting average of each hitter.
We were seated near a couple of families where the children were not engaged (although they were very cute in their Red Sox gear). The kids were mostly too young to follow the game, much less care that Josh Hamilton of the Angels was in front of us in right field, or that Jacoby Ellsbury stole a base or had a stand up triple. The two kids in front of us spent more time looking behind them than watching the game. You must be having a pretty bad time to find me more interesting than the baseball game. Their dad tried to keep them placated – he went to get ice cream, which went mostly uneaten and melted in the hot sun creating a sticky mess. He spent the rest of his time documenting his trip to Fenway on Facebook.
The kids were bored and restless – despite an exciting game – because they were far too young to be interested or care. To their credit, the parents gave up after the fifth inning and left. You can’t blame the parents for wanting a fun day together in an iconic baseball stadium…but they did fail to understand their main constituency: their own children.
In a way, your children are not unlike your customers. If you deliver an experience that they are not interested in – no matter how great (four Red Sox home runs!) – then you are left with a lot of complaining and a sticky mess. Unlike your children, your customers can just leave you for someone else.
My son stayed until the very end and announced the game until the end because he loves baseball. He says he wants to be an umpire/DH when he grows up, but he has broadcast announcer DNA. If he didn’t like baseball, we would not have been at Fenway Park and would have found another experience to share.
One of my favorite bands – Camera Obscura – released a new album yesterday here in the States. The United ones, that is, for those not paying attention. I heard about it the old fashioned way –
through the band’s Facebook posts. Due to the easy portability of digital content, I had already heard the album quite a few times before its release. Thank you live streaming! Quick aside: the
album is fantastic.
Knowing that the album was coming out, I was faced with a few options: download it on iTunes, order a hard copy of the CD from Amazon, borrow it from any person who purchases the hard copy, or find a store that would actually have it. Considering there are no longer any record stores in my town finding a brick and mortar store that carried the album would seem more trouble than it is worth.
When I was younger (my hair is gray and quite thin up top, make of that what you will), I actually had to travel to a store to purchase a cassette tape (later CD). The retail price was always jacked up enough to make the “sale” price look good. But that’s retail – someone has to pay for the lights to be on. The cassette always had a background hiss and fast forwarding a song was painful.
Then something happened not only to music, but all content. It became easy to copy and share. Suddenly fifteen bucks for a CD seemed like a ripoff because there was no actual physical product, just data that lives inside a computer, and .mp3 player, and my phone. I no longer have a CD rack, I have an iPod that carries all my songs, and the equivalent of what can be displayed in a record store. Fun fact: I did not actually verify this fact, I made it up.
While the experience of browsing in a store may be gone, I did discover Camera Obscura through contemporary means: I first heard them on Pandora.
I am writing this with an infant strapped to my chest in a Baby Bjorn. If I were paid to hype this product I might say something like this: “The Baby Bjorn allows me the use of both arms so that
I can write this with a sleeping and drooling infant strapped to my chest. It also allows me to eat food, but I do worry about dropping crumbs on her head.”
The infant in question happens to be my two-month-old daughter, Emily, who doesn’t like to sleep in the crib during the day. So she sleeps on my chest smelling of baby. There are worse smells to be strapped to, for sure. Gas powered leaf blowers come to mind.
From the outside it may appear that a baby strapped to one’s chest for hours at a time is some kind of albatross, especially if you hate cute, sleeping babies who breathe adorably. The symbolism is different, trust me. Besides, I am no Samuel Taylor Coleridge or even an albatross-hunting mariner. Eventually Emily will no longer want to be strapped to my chest while she sleeps. In fact it would be a bit awkward to carry her in a Baby Bjorn once she can walk or attend kindergarten.
As Emily sleeps on my chest in the aforementioned Baby Bjorn, she could symbolize multiple impediments to creativity. Having Emily positioned in this way makes it incredibly difficult to record in the home studio, or even to concentrate on writing these brief paragraphs.
So my creative life is like water poured into a bowl of rocks – it has to find the unoccupied space to exist. I write when I have a baby strapped to my chest (have I mentioned the baby in the Baby Bjorn yet?). I record when my wife can take Emily and when we can convince our son to be quiet. Sometimes this is late at night, as my son sleeps, my wife holds Emily on the couch. Not ideal, but no albatross.
Pope Benedict XVI is a “quitter.” He officially “resigns” at the end of the month, but “resign” is just a fancy, or “highfalutin” word for “quit.”Despite the historical significance of a Pope
“giving up,” one could easily forgive an eighty-five year old man for “quitting” a demanding job like being the Pope.
There are times when it is good to “quit” or to “resign” or to “retire” - which is simply another word for quitting because you’re old and don’t want to have to figure out the DVR in order to watch “The Price is Right.”Maybe you’re a football player and you worry about sub-concussive trauma. Maybe you’re a lawyer who’d rather teach art to high schoolers. Go ahead “quit” – you’ll be better off.
“Quitting” is also a good thing if you smoke, drink to excess or do lots of drugs. Unlike a job, one doesn’t “resign” to “quit” things, one “resolves” to “quit” them. Back in the day quite a few people (okay, two that I remember) wondered when I “quit” smoking. The truth was I never “quit,” because I never started smoking. “Quitting” smoking for me would be like quitting the papacy, or my baseball career - these are all things I’ve never done, and are thus easy to “quit.”
When one tenders a “resignation” (in other words “quits” fancily), one does not expect the old job to come running to get you back. When one “quits” a bad habit, the bad habit is always there waiting to come back into your life. “Just one drag of a cigarette.” “Just one drink.” “Just one French fry.”
Perhaps we should tender a letter of resignation to our bad habits, just to make it official: Dear Cigarettes, I have decided that it is in the best interest of my long-term health to sever our relationship, etc. Would that make “quitting” any easier?
When you think about it “quit” is the easy way to stop doing something. It’s really a “giving up” or not putting more energy into the thing you are “quitting.” I try to go for a walk every day – yet, it would be easy to “quit” this habit. A bad habit, on the other hand requires a good deal of effort to “quit” so there must be another word that addresses the difficulty of “quitting.” “Abstain” comes to mind, but then that leads to “abstinence” which means it’s always on your mind.
Perhaps one could “combat” smoking. Or “punch” smoking.
Eh, I give up. I mean “quit.”
At first I thought it was a misprint when I saw a four-bedroom house rental listed for less than half the market price, and for less than the two bedroom duplex apartment I share with my wife,
child and child on the way. After some not very astute detective work, we realized that it was likely a scam. There were a few giveaways – the real estate sign in the front yard with a plea not
to contact the realtor, the attempt to get first month’s rent and security without seeing the inside, the assertion that the owner had the keys with her while supposedly doing missionary work
somewhere in Western Africa – with a convenient link to the mission’s website. The scammer even went so far as to set up an email with the homeowner’s real name. I wondered if Lance Armstong had
found a second career.
Oftentimes when we hear stories of people defrauded by scammers, we wonder how it is that anyone could believe something so preposterous. A benevolent Nigerian prince would share $5 million for providing bank account information? A pregnant woman can go for months without realizing it? That idiot thinks they are a good driver?
We fool ourselves into all sorts of outlandish beliefs. Cheap, four bedroom house rentals are possible because I am a good person. That Nigerian prince will split the money with me because I am too smart to fall for a scam. I ate an orange at 8:30 am therefore I cannot be pregnant.
But our beliefs get shattered along the way and we either double down on them or let logic win out. It is physically impossible for an elderly diabetic in a red suit to visit every child on Christmas Eve with “handmade” toys. Sooner or later every child learns this. By the time Lance Armstrong offered his non-contrition in the prime-time Oprah confessional, after years of doubling down and bullying, most people had flushed their Livestrong wrist bands. And then there is Alex Rodriguez, recently alleged to have been taking PEDs when he was supposedly off them. A-Rod. A-Roid to anyone outside of New York. A-Roidbatross now that he has five years left on his PED grown contract. It should be enough to cast doubt on any outsize achievement. Perhaps Babe Ruth had access to a secret supply.
For a short period of time it was nice to believe that we could pay less for more (four bedrooms would have been really helpful with 2 kids!), but in the end logic won out over belief and the supposed missionary is likely out performing the charity work of separating a fool from his or her money. If the scammer threatens you, it might just be that Lance Armstrong needs the cash more than you do...
I recently read a thought-provoking article
discussing various overused terms that people used to describe themselves. “Innovative” was at the top of the list and“creative.”“Out-of-the-box-thinker” was not, but that phrase is soooo late
1990s. I still know people who use that phrase, which just shows their age, or the overall lack of “out-of-the-box” thinking that they currently employ.
The late 1990s were a banner time for the rise of meaningless corporate drivel. Words like “synergy,” when repeated enough times simply became background noise. Repeated even more times, “synergy” then became a parody of itself. If anyone mentioned “synergy” in a meeting or an article, rest assured that person was a lazy thinker looking for words to make them sound like a “thought leader.”
“Synergy” went to parody around the time when Fast Company magazine resembled a telephone book on a monthly basis. Yes, there once was a time when phone numbers were published in a large book that was then freely distributed to every household with a telephone - a landline telephone, that is. The phone book was supported by local businesses that paid money to advertise their services into the yellow section of the book, which was then grouped by category. Ahhh, the days before auto fill.
“Innovative,”“creative,” “out-of-the-box thinker,”and, yes “thought leader” are all different ways to say“deviant.”In short, when anyone uses these words to describe themselves, I will simply remember that they are “deviants.” Then all of us “deviants” can “synergize” our “innovative” “thought-leadership” into a “best-of-breed” and “scalable” “solution.”
I suppose if you were to put “deviant” on a resume that would lead to no calls for interviews. Calling one’s self a “deviant” during a job interview would probably not lead to a second job interview but possibly a restraining order and a good story.
I dare you to put “deviant” on your resume or LinkedIn profile. Hi, my name is Chris and I am a “deviant.” Maybe this will catch on.
Over the past week, the trash accumulated as it always does. A pile of cardboard boxes from Christmas orders. Plastic yogurt containers, gallon jugs for cereal milk. Soda cans to donate for the
five-cent bottle deposit. Peels of apples, clementines, and bananas that no longer protect the fruit inside. Coffee grounds that had been French-pressed by their morning destiny.
In my town, we carry our trash and recycling to a transfer station. In the pouring rain I ventured out, flipping the dial on the radio along the way. As a voiceover artist, I like to hear how others interpret copy. As I left the transfer station, the sports talk station was pontificating on the NHL lockout and then switched to a moment of silence at 9:30am for the victims of last Friday’s Sandy Hook shooting.
I normally think of the time between Thanksgiving and New Year’s Day as a time to affirm what is important. Thanksgiving is a celebration of what we have. Christmas and Hanukkah enable us to express hope at even the darkest hour (solstice). New Year’s is a time to celebrate the future that will be.
Somewhere along the way, appreciation, celebration and hope turned to horror for that grieving community in Newtown, Connecticut. As we move on to debate gun control and access to mental health, no longer will those families hear their children playing in the next room, asking questions that maybe can’t be answered, or be awakened at 5am on Christmas morning to see what Santa has brought. They won’t get to see their children fulfill the promise of who they were so recently.
Despite acts of evil and terror, there still remains the opportunity for so much good. Witness the acts of the emergency responders, the teachers who worked to protect their students.
In that spirit, I wish you a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.
Voiceover, like any other career, can have its share of challenges. Sometimes you get to tackle copy you don’t like at all.
I dedicate a small portion of my free time each week to recording audiobooks for Perkins School for the Blind. I am into my second book right now at Perkins, but the first book I read for them amounted to a kind of voiceover hazing. It meandered through long sentences with no clear subject, outdated words like “contumely,” and half thought out chapters with tangential anecdotes used to pad the book into a length beyond pamphlet.
In order not to appear as a troll, I will decline to shame - I mean name - the book publicly. I did happen to look it up on Amazon, where it has one two star review, and asks the author to provide more fact checking. I would add that the author needed to do some copyediting (Boston was misspelled) and break the sentences down into readable threads.
Even though I would not recommend the book myself, my job as the narrator was to make the book sound better than drying paint. It wasn’t always easy. Since the book was local history, I thought about people who might live in the area discussed. The book talked about the time the area was settled, and it occurred to me that this was a very different place than the person listening to this book might know. Every week I came into the studio, I thought about how those places had changed, and how that local history was of interest to someone. Despite the tedious plodding of the narrative, I found parts of the book that were interesting and relatable and delivered freshness to the read each week.
The studio director at Perkins was kind enough to give me a much different book for my second go round, but this morning, it had me dropping F-bombs in the studio. Not because of my read, but because it was in the text.
Today, I started reading the Trader Joe’s flyer aloud just to hear my own approach to the copy. This is how you know you are in the right profession: when what you are doing inspires your
passion. This is why I am in voiceover.
Now, I know that Trader Joe’s is out to get a certain market demographic into its stores, but I was focused on the sound of the voice and what would a person reading that copy want you to know and discover.
In a lifetime past, I worked for a variety of technology companies (a useful skill to have when voicing online demos or training). To stay in that path would have been taking the easy route. I’m not saying that tech sales is ever easy, but I had enough experience that I could keep finding jobs. At that point it becomes routine: you know the drill, go find a company to work for, put in my time, go home and collect a paycheck.
I learned a lot of valuable lessons going the easy route. In sales, I learned about persistence. I learned that being responsible for your children sometimes makes bosses question your dedication. I learned that when you don’t fit in at an organization (which I did not in my last position) office politics can work against you.
The easy route makes it easier to get compensated for your work, but at some point the money doesn’t improve the life situation to the point where it is worth it. At this point I will highly recommend viewing this video on motivation from Daniel Pink.
So, what it comes down to is love. What do I love to do? I love to get in front of a microphone and discover the copy in front of me, while helping the person listening discover that copy as well.
When I worked in technology sales, my dream was never to be a technology salesperson. Now that I am doing voiceover, my passion is ignited.
I officially bought a losing Powerball ticket. Like almost everyone else, I have a 1 in 175,000,000 chance of being wrong about that. Based on that math, one would have to buy 17.5 million tickets for even a one percent chance of winning. Would you pay someone $35 million for the chance to guess a number from 1-100? If you would, you can send it to me, along with your guess.
Buying 10, 20, 100 tickets would not significantly increase my chance of winning $550 million, but it would increase my chance of having less money to spend over the Holidays. Santa Claus needs subsidies, you know.
And then, if you win, studies show it messes up your life regardless. Apparently having a lot of money come to you suddenly does not make you any better at managing it. I would likely fit into that category.
So, I gave $2 for the schools, or something like that.