Chim chim cheroooooo

It was so disappointing. I’d booked a chimney sweep fully expecting a sooty-faced, chirpy, cockney scoundrel to show up. Instead I got Bob who was dressed like a Ninja. I’m not dissing Bob. He was great. Didn’t even mind when I asked him to temporarily turn off the hoover he was using, in order for me to do a voice over. ‘Voice over? That’s the weirdest job ever’ he said to me. And in the next breath, ‘actually I could do with a telephone message’. ‘No probs,’ I said. ‘I’ll do it. No charge’. Twenty minutes later I was stood on my doorstep battling with Bob’s tempremental mobile phone. Yeah that’s right. My doorstep. Whatever happened to that super swish London recording studio? The type of place that serves up trays of teeny weeny trendy sandwiches. Can you get ‘trendy’ sandwiches? Anyway whatever…you don’t get them on my doorstep! Eventually I recorded the message. “I’m impressed’ he said. ‘I’m not just a chimney sweep you know. I’ve got other businesses too. Bouncy Castles. Pest Control.’ Bob appeared to be hinting at future work. I gave him my card. Networking and a clean chimney. I am seriously living the dream.

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Turn up the volume

Sometimes I have to shout. Loudly. And quickly. The loud, shouty, super speedy, voice over delivery, is still with us. Usually it’s because a client has got lots to say and not much time to say it in. I did a particularly shouty voice over today. Felt like I needed a little lie down afterwards. Honest to god – it takes it out of you. You literally have to race through the script, ensuring that diction, clarity and all round comprehension remain in tact. To nail it properly you need the breath of a deep sea diver, the speed of a gazelle and the all round ooooooomph of a Broadway Musical. And yeah I guess I’m quite good at it. But at the end of the day…it’s nothing to shout about.

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You’re avin a larf

Sometimes in the middle of a voice session I get the giggles. Anything from the words ‘DJ Noodles’ to ‘Leicester Sound’ can set me off. It doesn’t happen often thankfully. Because when it does it’s like a disease. This is the build up. I stumble across words. The producer makes a funny comment. The words need revoicing. But by then it’s too late. As I see the offending words approaching I start gulping down air, biting my lip and shallow breathing. I can feel an attack coming on. I’m thinking please don’t make me say ‘Leicester Sound’ again. But of course I must. I always get there eventually but it’s not without extreme deep breathing and an internal dialogue on the merits of remaining professional at all times. I guess it’s an occupational hazard. Then again I must profess a unashamed soft spot for giggling fits. Surely one of lifes delights. And in my book a spot of delight is never a bad thing.

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Stage Fright

A while back I was asked to do a talk about being a voice artist. The audience would be one hundred strong. I was scared. Yes I know readers you may think I’d find this public speaking lark a total breeze. But actually my expertise involves a script, a microphone and a studio. Live and unscripted is not my bag. Anyway I spent a whole day preparing. I didn’t sleep the night before. On the morning of the talk I sat nervously on the stage waiting for the audience. The first person I saw was a curly haired scruffy little chap, shuffling in backwards with an amused grin on his face. The chap in question? My five year old son. Yes my pearls of wisdom on the voice over industry would be delivered to one hundred five year olds at my son’s primary school. It was great. I loved it. The kids were utterly delightful. They were genuinely interested in my slightly weird job and asked really interesting questions. I was so impressed. They especially loved it when I got them up in their class groups to do some cheeky voice overs about their form teachers. There’s nothing more uplifting than a load of kids with smiley faces. As a result my first foray into public speaking was a joy. Thanks you lot.

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I Got Rhythm

I love the musicality of voice over. I’ve got a theory that the best voice artists are also musicians. My personal musical preference is singing. Actually professional singing is a side line for me. Just check out the website for radio jingles galore. As far as voicing goes, it’s all about rhythm. Actually it’s about pace and timing as well. I can view a script and instantly understand the ups and downs needed to lift the words off the page. I’ve got an ear for this stuff. Anyway sometimes producers like to play the music while I’m voicing a script. For some reason I don’t love it. I’m starting to think it may be because it’s like clashing one piece of music with another. Or maybe I’m reading too much into it. Wouldn’t be the first time.

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The voice over dress code

Diamond tiara? Check. Shimmering evening gown? Check. Christian Laboutin metallic spike heels? Check. Yep another day, another voice over outfit. It’s not fair. I’m just your average Gracia-reading thirty something…okay late thirty something…actually make that late thirty something mother of two with a house, husband and you know proper responsibilities . Anyway I’m just one of those types. And I just want to be able to choose a fabulous, on-trend, don’t-she-look-good-for-her-age type work-wear ensemble. But who am I kidding. My work space is a tiny studio, in the corner of a room which is in my house. Most of the people I work for don’t even see me. I could be sporting head to toe Stella McCartney or tatty pyjamas from Peacocks. It doesn’t make a blind bit of difference. In my voice booth I talk to a producer down an ISDN line. They can’t see me and I can’t see them. But it doesn’t stop me. I think to myself I’m getting properly dressed for work and to hell with it! So there I am decked in my white sequinned, must-have Top Shop trophy jacket looking good and reading scripts. And the following day I’m wearing my new eighties inspired grey stretchy tunic and I’m loving that too. And by the end of each week I’ve triumphantly worn a varied and eclectic selection of voice over get-ups. Each one slightly kookier than the next. Who cares I think as I don a trilby hat perched at a jaunty angle. It’s my office I can wear what I darn well please. The dress code at my office is so relaxed I could even turn up in my birthday suit. In fact tomorrow…I think I will!

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You’re a voice over!?

So I’m standing at the school gates the other day, and this, smiley-bubbly-type girl I often chat to, but don’t really know, is standing nearby. I’m busy showing my new business card to a friend. Smiley-bubbly-type girl, asks what I do for a living and when I say ‘voice over’ she is genuinely shocked. “I didn’t know you did that,” she says. And to be honest there are loads of people that I’m acquainted with in everyday life who have no idea what I do for a living. Even the ones who do know (and that includes my friends), have no real idea about what being a voice over involves. Sometimes they ask. And I try and answer in a manner that makes some kind of sense to the average human being. ‘I do radio & tv ads,’ I venture but their vacant smiles and polite nodding heads speak volumes. ‘Yeah right course you do’ is what they’re thinking. Or that’s what I’m thinking they’re thinking. Well whatever…That’s what I do – radio and tv ads. And loads of other stuff too. And as of today I’m going to write about it. There’ll be no more bemused and mystified faces my friends. Next time you meet a voice over you’ll know everything. Lucky you.

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