I think my writer self hates my narrator self
I’m recording Without a Summer this week and keep having these moments where I realize that I’ve written a word that I’ve never said aloud. “Indecorous” or “coppice.” Normally, I do a significant amount of prep before I record an audio book but the turnaround was pretty tight on this given when Audible needs it and the fact that I’ll be on the road. That meant that I needed to record this week and you know, I wrote the book and I read the thing aloud as part of my editing process. How bad could it be?
And here we learn the important distinction between reading for editing and for performance.
I have to actually say everything correctly. At times, I pause and curse because I wrote stuff like, “in Vincent’s vicinity.” I mean… really?
The worst though happened today. I hit this paragraph:
When they got to the third verse, Jane began to feel as though she had never heard the song before. Though not well trained, the profusion of young boys gave it an ethereal beauty, making the song a prayer for deliverance. Their voices drifted upward.
And then I have to sing. “Ethereal Beauty.” Yeah… and I picked a song that’s real but that I don’t actually know. It’s like my writer self hates my narrator self.
We marked it and I have spent part of this evening learning a song. Thank heavens I said, “not well trained.”