audio

A blog about being the right you in the right context.

Personal and professional.

Two words.

Both pretty similar.

Each one begins with a ‘p’ and ends with an ‘l’.

And they share an ‘e’, ‘r’, ‘s’, ‘o’, ‘n’ and ‘a’, too.

To outward appearances, these two words have a lot in common: you can almost see a ‘persona’ in that ‘professional’. And to some extent, that’s true.

A voice-over artist could, in the right context, claim that the personal is professional. For example, you could give a ”personal service” (which by its nature also involves a high degree of professionalism). This might mean that you are polite, prompt with emails, correctly interpret the brief, provide the perfect read, and send back the audio in double-quick time, exceeding all the client’s expectations.

In that context, it’s easy to see how the personal is professional. But at other times, the personal is not professional. For example, you might arrive late for a recording session, which you forgot to book into your diary, because your head is thick with cold, because you were out drinking last week, and well, your car won’t start either, because you put off booking it in for its MOT.

Two examples, then, of the personal and the professional, and how the right combination produces good results, while the wrong combination does the opposite.

The other subtle difference between these two scenarios is the ”backstory”. In the world of reality TV (like my guilty pleasure, America’s Next Top Model), a backstory is the dramatic backbone of the series. It’s how, as viewers, we get invested into a contestant’s character and how we make sense of her journey from poor, shy, small town girl to (maybe – and you’ll find out next week and the week after that) a coiffed, cool, confident catwalker. That’s storytelling in so-called reality TV, where characters are developed and constructed through creative editing to entertain the audience.

But in the professional world (what we might call ”real reality”), nobody cares about your backstory. There is no audience. Nobody is invested in your storyline. And few people care about your personal life, because in the context of a recording studio, there isn’t time and it’s simply not appropriate. So the only answer to ‘’how are you?’’ at the start of a recording session should be ”great, thanks!”.

The reality is, therefore, that the world of the professional is about doing the job. As a professional voice-over artist, or if you prefer, a voice actor, you have to ‘act’ like a professional, or better yet, just ‘be’ one. In studio and out. On good days and bad days. All of the time.

I learned about professionalism the hard way. When I was young and still learning my craft, I mistook friendliness and regular contact with contemporaries to mean that we were all a big happy family of voice-over-related people, working together in a fun, harmonious circle of trust. But reality soon dawned and I realised that you can’t bring your personal storyline into the professional environment. And as such, I shan’t be mentioning it here, either.

But learning the value of professionalism (at the expense of the personal) was an important lesson. Years later, it’s what I teach my students. ‘’’The reality’’, I tell them, ”is that you’re just gobs on sticks” (as my friend and colleague Stephen Lyons would say). ”It’s just you, the microphone, the producer and the copy. Be in the moment. Speak only the words on the page. Be the professional. Fulfil your role. Do the job”.

And if you can be personable too – rather than personal – that’s a bonus.

Are you a voice-over casting director? Or a radio commercial producer? Or even a marketing person looking for a voice for a project? Then perhaps you might allow me to have a discreet word in your ear. Because there’s a thing that I’ve been made aware of, which maybe you’re not.

Don’t worry, nobody’s told me you’ve got BO. And in any case, since we work remotely, I wouldn’t know.

But I am talking about something that’s got a bit of a whiff to it.

Something not quite right.

Something fishy.

It’s been claimed by various voice-over industry stalwarts recently that there has never been a better time to be a voice-over artist.

That may be true. Look at audiobooks outselling paper ones. Look at the resources out there to help aspiring voiceover artists develop their talent – my own included. Look at how being a professional voice-over artist appears to be, on the face of it, the ultimate work-from-home career.

 

For newcomers, opportunity seemingly abounds. Now seems to be a great time.

But like I said before, there’s something about this that doesn’t smell quite right.

Something fishy.

You might also think, if you’re someone responsible for choosing voices, that there’s never been so much choice. You might think that the next voice you pick will provide excellent value. You might think they’ll be a star performer. You might think they’ll always be available. You might think they can read out loud, stumble-free, with every nuance necessitated by your carefully crafted copy. You might think they can deliver to deadline without disappointment.

You might think all of these things (and more). But are you right in your thinking?

Yes, the voice-over pond has – apparently – never been more plentiful.

But is the voice you’ve fished out the ‘reel deal’? Or have you mistakenly cast a catfish?

They might claim to be wild tuna on their demo, but can they do exactly what they say on the tin? And when you’ve forked out and hired this voice, have you actually – mistakenly – opened up a can of worms?

These are important questions. And reputations, budgets and successful projects depend on them.

The unfortunate truth is that casting (and then booking) someone with no web presence and a limited portfolio of work could mean the same as a fisherman  coming up with a tiddler, after hours spent throwing lines (and some producers do have to throw plenty of lines to be read back at them, so I’m told).

I also hear stories of inexperienced voice-over artists turning up to studios, unable to perform to the same standard on their demos, or unable to respond to direction and deliver lines differently.

(I should make it clear at this stage that my Richcraft voice coaching students are only allowed to make a demo with me, when they are genuinely confident in their ability and are able to truly deliver!)