Things are looking up here in the land of un/underemployed Edwardia. Last night, I received a message from Judy Clement Wall, co-author of A Waltz and blogger of note, pointing me in the direction of ACX.com. What, I hear all six of you reply, is ACX.com? I'll tell you: it's the Audiobook Creation Exchange. To quote from their website: "ACX is a marketplace where professional authors, agents, publishers, and other Rights Holders can post fallow audiobook rights. At ACX, those unused audio rights will be matched with narrators, engineers, recording studios, and other Producers capable of producing a finished audiobook, as well as with audiobook publishers. The result: More audiobooks will be made."
Putting my evening on hold, I immediately recorded three snippets of what I hope to be viable audiobook narration and, creating a profile, posted it to the site. Doing this with a crackling fire three feet away, a four-year-old running around upstairs and a dog and a bunny making themselves repeatedly comfortable in the room with me was no small challenge. Check out my page and let me know what you think.
Then do me a favor: search ACX.com for books you love, books you'd like to hear me read, books at which you know I'd excel as narrator. Do this, and someday I'll have the money to be able to come see you in your show, attend your wedding, donate to your project or buy you a baby shower gift. See how it all comes back around? Delicious.
Showing posts with label ACX. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ACX. Show all posts
Thursday, January 5, 2012
Wowsers McGowswers
It has been a really long time since I've written anything. This is largely because I have been involved with several large projects, both theatrical and cinematic. They took a great deal of my time, certainly. But the reason I wasn't writing was because I was so frustrated with the projects that I hesitated to write anything at all, out of not wanting the producers of the various projects to know what I thought of what was going on. Not that I think anyone reads this blog, but one never knows. Six subscribers, yes, but perhaps a malevolent person lurking and searching for more reasons to accuse me of things.
Look at that: even now, I am so hesitant to say anything about what was going on that I start with a direct statement and then alter it at least three times until the final product is so confusing that wonderful people associated with either project could find themselves wondering if they were the cause of my deep and abiding stress-angst in 2011.
Here we are in 2012, and my year ended with the most horrific event I have ever personally experienced -- and it did not even happen physically to me. And now, a new event: just this morning, I learned that my nephew, Jackson, was attacked and beaten last night at Rockridge BART. He is generally okay, there seems to have been a concussion of some sort, and though I haven't seen him yet, I have spoken to my brother who tells me that Jack is much improved from last night.
So, when I look back at all the shitfuck assness of what I had to endure artistically in 2011, it is nothing next to the fact that Veronica is alive and well, Jackson is recovering, and we still have a roof over our heads. I know I will need to find a way to express the rage that still smolders in me from 2011, but for now I am just happy that my family is intact. If you've met them, you know what I'm talking about. Individually and as a group, my family is wonderful. We all have our foibles, but they're what make us who we are; in my family, we accept everyone's foibles and love them in spite -- and often because of -- those things which in other groups would make them intolerable.
I am a fine example of this. The things I say at family dinners get howls of laughter; I tried one of the same lines at a subscriber event for Solano College and quickly learned that the best way to make subscribers leave you alone is offer to show them the scabs on your taint. Chris Guptill, take note.
Look at that: even now, I am so hesitant to say anything about what was going on that I start with a direct statement and then alter it at least three times until the final product is so confusing that wonderful people associated with either project could find themselves wondering if they were the cause of my deep and abiding stress-angst in 2011.
Here we are in 2012, and my year ended with the most horrific event I have ever personally experienced -- and it did not even happen physically to me. And now, a new event: just this morning, I learned that my nephew, Jackson, was attacked and beaten last night at Rockridge BART. He is generally okay, there seems to have been a concussion of some sort, and though I haven't seen him yet, I have spoken to my brother who tells me that Jack is much improved from last night.
So, when I look back at all the shitfuck assness of what I had to endure artistically in 2011, it is nothing next to the fact that Veronica is alive and well, Jackson is recovering, and we still have a roof over our heads. I know I will need to find a way to express the rage that still smolders in me from 2011, but for now I am just happy that my family is intact. If you've met them, you know what I'm talking about. Individually and as a group, my family is wonderful. We all have our foibles, but they're what make us who we are; in my family, we accept everyone's foibles and love them in spite -- and often because of -- those things which in other groups would make them intolerable.
I am a fine example of this. The things I say at family dinners get howls of laughter; I tried one of the same lines at a subscriber event for Solano College and quickly learned that the best way to make subscribers leave you alone is offer to show them the scabs on your taint. Chris Guptill, take note.
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