Preparing for Narration

Every story has its own “voice”, the essential tone and flavor of the tale. In order to create a compelling performance, the voice actor needs to understand and embrace that voice.

In the previous blog post, I discussed analyzing the text of the story in order to find the beats and rhythm of the tale. But once you’ve examined language, culture, and context of the piece, what’s next? How do you use all that information to create an engaging and authentic performance?

To provide a context for this exploration, I’m going to use “Blackout” by Hal Ellson (a story I recently narrated for the Pseudopod Horror Podcast) as the framework to illustrate various steps of preparation and delivery. You can read the full text and hear the full audio there.

A String of Moments

When you read a story from beginning to end, the scenes and moments of the tale weave together creating a complete experience in your mind. The performance/narration of a story must achieve that same feeling of continuity and completeness. If you’ve read the story (which should be part of your prep), then you understand what that experience is. The next step is to deconstruct it into its component moments.

This is where the story beats come into play. Each of those defining moments is a “complete thought” providing a framework both for the story and your performance of it. Authors often use a setting change or shift in focus to signal some development in the narrative so, as a guideline, “beats” and “scenes” are often (but not always) the same thing.

Example

In “Blackout”, there’s a moment when Ace (the main character) and his friend Jim get angry with each other and go their separate ways. The next moment, Ace walks into a bar. That shift in tone and location is a good indicator of a new beat. At the bar, Ace picks up Flo and he takes her to a wax museum and she gets bored and leaves. When he sees her again, she’s on another man’s arm and he loses himself in the crowd. That marks the end of the beat because in the next moment, he meets Milly and begins the spiral towards the tragic conclusion.

So that’s our beat… what do we do with it?

Directing the Audience

When a listener hits the PLAY button, they are giving you complete control of their enjoyment of the story. No pressure, right? How you apply your voice to the story determines what the audience will pay attention to and what becomes “story ambiance”.

I can hear the cries of “Blasphemy! Every word is vital!” Yes, but the function they serve in the context of that story varies dramatically. Some passages define critical moments while others serve as a kind of “connective tissue” that links those moments and emotionally prepares the audience for their arrival.

The same is true of a vocal performance. If every sentence is given the same weight and intensity, the audience becomes exhausted and bored (and so will you). You need to decide where to apply that emphasis because that’s where the audience needs to be the most attentive and receptive. Similarly, you need to determine the tone and quality of the intervening text to ensure you’re setting up those moments effectively.

Example

In “Blackout”, Flo’s character exists primarily to establish a contrast to Milly, to reinforce Ace’s fixation on fear and on the murderer in the wax museum, and foreshadow the horror to come. There’s no challenge here for Ace (picking her up is as “easy as falling out of bed”), so he’s not deeply invested in the exchange. He’s still distracted by his fixations and Flo is just a sounding board for him, so his vocal profile with her is going to be matter-of-fact, almost bland.

Flo needs to be the opposite of Milly. Milly is gentle, sensitive, and attentive, so Flo can’t be any of those things. She’s brash and self-involved, an avatar of the uncaring masses that Ace has been tormented by up to this point. My vocal profile for Flo was selected to serve that purpose.

But the most important line in this beat is right here:

“That figures, but I’m not thinking of that cause I almost catch the reason why I came here, what I’m looking for. Almost, but it gets away.”

Up to this point, Ace has been struggling to figure out why he’s so agitated and here he (and the audience) get the first clue what that might be. That deserves special vocal treatment.

“Blackout“, by Hal Ellson

An example of adding vocal emphasis

The author throws us a curve because the start of the sentence is more of Ace’s disdain for Flo, but after the comma comes the articulation of his primary desire up to this point.

To highlight the difference – and catch the audience’s attention – I delivered the first part consistent with Ace’s attitude in the scene, but for the rest, I got closer to the mic to create a kind of intimacy as though I was delivering a precious secret into the ears of the listeners. I paused just a fraction of a second longer than necessary before speaking to make sure the audience was clued in to hear what was coming and then slowed the pace down to further isolate it from the rest of the scene.

Your Most Potent Asset…

Did you notice how that miniscule little pause had the effect of a speed bump in terms of getting your attention? That is an example of every voice actor’s most potent tool when it comes to their performance…

Silence.

How we handle silence is one of the most subtle and powerful tools a voice actor has. Reduce it by shortening the pause between punctuation, and you accelerate the pace of the story and increase the energy of the scene. Stretch it out and you’re dangling your listeners over a cliff of uncertainty increasing the tension and/or gravitas of the lines.

That’s exactly what I did in that last segment… Ace delivers a revelation, and in the two seconds of silence that follows, the audience leans forward, wondering what it means and how he’ll react. Did that moment require that silence? No. Did it enhance the moment and increase the tension in a horror story defined by escalating tension? I think so.

(Incidentally, if you want to see a masterful execution of pacing and silence manipulation, listen to John Hurt recite “Jabberwocky”)

Example (spoilers: showcases the climax of the story)

At the end of “Blackout”, Ace has been driven by his personal demons to carry out an act of horrible violence. This is the climax of the tale and requires all the vocal FX you can muster to ensure it has the desired impact.

“Blackout“, by Hal Ellson

Using silence to command attention

This is a white-hot act of terror and frustration on Ace’s part and, to capture that manic frenzy, I accelerate the pace and volume. Then… silence, followed by a drop in volume. But only volume, as I tried to preserve the tension of the previous moment to support the short denouement of the tale. The brief moment of Ace’s reaction is followed by another long pause to reinforce the Ace’s disorientation (and keep the audience on the edge of their seat).

The final moments of the story are quiet, punctuated by erratic tempos, until the ultimate endnote, not of anger or justice, but rather despair.

A Choreography of Contrast

Silence is just one of the tools (albeit a potent one) available to voice actors to create color and nuance to the stories we narrate. Pacing, volume, and pitch all come into play, but it all serves to give depth and scope to the narrative. That is how vocal performance delivers a rich experience: by weaving together the contrasts and textures of the narrative.

Those contrasts are created by either increasing or decreasing the volume/pace/pitch of your delivery. The former amplifies the energy and is more aggressive, while the latter enhances tension and intimacy.

But in order to be effective, the voice actor must establish a baseline, an authentic and sustainable “vocal norm” to provide the foundation for those moments of distinction. Once you figure out what that baseline is, and identify the moments that require special treatment, you can then design the application of that treatment.

That design is a kind of choreography where the voice actor determines what treatment will best augment the story moment they’re presenting. This is highly subjective based on the skills and temperament of the performer, as well as the aesthetic and tone of the story.

My interpretation of a piece evolves through this entire process, shifting as I hear how my choices color any given moment in the context of the larger story. Many times, it takes three or more takes to find the right delivery… and even then, during the editing/production process I have been known to re-record a passage because it wasn’t until I heard the whole piece that I discovered some nuance I had missed.

Final Thoughts

In audio fiction, the voice actor becomes “the authority” of a story. Our choices color the audience’s interpretation of the piece which, when you think about it, is a lot of responsibility. Often, the voice actor is left alone to make those assessments, so cultivating skills in story analysis and structure are vital.

If the piece is being directed, then the voice actor has a powerful ally in the quest for audio fabulousity. Actors are encouraged to have an active dialog with their director and use their vision and insight to guide your choices.

But no matter how much care and preparation go into your performance, sometimes you’ll make choices that work against the story and undermine the listener’s experience. Honestly, there are precious few of my performances that I feel couldn’t be improved with “one more take” or a different delivery.

We’re all our own worst critics, but that’s also part of the learning process. For me, I acknowledge that I did the best I could at that moment in time. I identify what didn’t work – and the choices that led to that circumstance – and resolve to do better next time.

When you’re asked, “What has been your best performance?” the answer is always “The next one.”