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ROWELL GORMON

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Everybody Should Have an “Uncle Willie” (part one)

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The Man of Multiple Names Could Hear My Multiple Voices

To his wife Joyce, his co-workers and other friends he was “Bill”.  His mom, my grandma,  always referred to him as William Thomas (I always wondered who that “William Thomas” guy she kept talking about was).  But to me and my younger brother Lee (pictured above), he was Willie.  Not even “Uncle” Willie…just Willie.  It was what my mom and his other siblings called him, and he graciously allowed us to keep using that name for the rest of his life.  Willie was probably the person most responsible for developing my creative talents and imagination.

Don’t get me wrong.  Mom always read stories to me (shifting her voice with the characters), and she and Dad always made sure I had imaginative toys, books, records, crayons & paper,  and  (of course) plenty of cardboard boxes.  Dad had plans to go into drafting (before the government beat him to it and drafted him for a little assignment in 1940s Germany), so my drawing and cartooning abilities doubtless came from him.  Mom and Joyce both made puppets for me over the years and if they ever thought I was weird for doing the voices of my stuffed toys as I played, they never let on.  But it was Willie who actively joined in the play, and invited me to join in his own, right thru adulthood.

The Electric and the Eclectic  

It was Willie who fostered my interest in things electronic.  He built me a crystal radio set and showed me how to string antennae wire all over grandma’s spare room and listen to voices and music over the headphones.  It was Willie who put me on the air for the very first time…even if it was just a quick “hello” over his custom-built ham radio set-up.

It was Willie who took me over to visit his friend Don Scales, who built hi-fi systems and had this funny contraption called a tape recorder.  He let us kids not only record our voices, but play around with tape echo effects.  And some years later it was Willie, through his connection with Don (also chief engineer at the home town radio station), who got me my first part time job as a radio announcer/dj  while I was still in high school.  It’s no false modesty when I say it was Willie’s doing  and not my own talents — I still have the original audition reel and it’s cringeworthy!

When I got a tape recorder of my own and started messing around with character voices and the sound effects I could pull off my cartoon kiddie records, Willie not only encouraged me, he wrote some silly “radio serial” scripts about the guys he worked with in the radio/tv repair shop at Sears – “The Adventures of Picture Tube Charlie”, and did some of the voices alongside mine.  I’m told the gang at work kept bugging him for new “episodes”.

Expanding the Circuit

While I never learned any electrical engineering, Willie did provide for the advancement of my on air style, creating a makeshift “portable consolette” for me out of old record players, a recycled cart machine, basic microphone and a small mixing board which he built himself.  I even used it at a few of my high school dances…the only time you’d find an un-datable square like me at such an event.

Willie , who worked as a TV Repair man at Sears, salvaged an old b&w tv from the shop and got it working so I could have it in my basement lair at home (another blog for another time).  That was the one I remember watching the first moon landing on.  During college, he repaired another set for my first apartment, and it was the first color tv in our immediate family.  Willie and Joyce had a big RCA color console at their house, of course, with sound that could be rigged through his custom stereo.  As kids, we were thrilled when a Saturday family gathering or a rare overnight stay gave us a treasured glimpse into this magical new world of color.  Promos for the upcoming week’s “Batman” almost gave me a sensory overload!  On more than a few Sunday nights, mom and dad grudgingly let our visit go into overtime so we could watch Walt Disney’s Wonderful World of Color before heading  home.

Still later, during the Betamax years, Willie could always be counted upon to faithfully watch the tapes  I’d bring home of a tv commercial or promo I’d directed or appeared in, or the few clips I was able to snag when my puppet characters and I appeared on the local kiddie show, “Time for Uncle Paul” (again…another blog for another time).

Even when the rest of the family wasn’t really that interested, Willie (and Joyce) served as my enthusiastic and encouraging audience.  And Joyce actually contributed one of the makeshift puppets I used on the show, Malcom, who was built from a teddy bear body and a ‘cookie monster’ style head that could “eat” cookies through a slot in the back of his mouth.  On the show, though, he quickly developed into a sweet, slow-witted soul not unlike Edgar Bergen‘s bumpkin, “Mortimer Snerd“.  The puppets couldn’t actually do much, physically.  But they really came alive as characters.

But Willie’s influence, and Joyce’s, didn’t stop at local radio and local tv.  It’s literally gone around the world thanks to all those years of creative nurturing.  More on that in the next post.

— over and out —

Hitting the Voiceover Trail (you can’t get there the way I did)

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It’s an honest question. I get it a lot.

“How do I get into voiceovers?”

Usually, the person wants a Secret Formula…wants to know how I did it…wants to know how to follow the same path I did.  The thing of it is:  you can’t follow that path.  It simply doesn’t exist anymore.

Broken Roads

The first thing I used to tell these people (back when I knew everything) was, “Get a part time job at your local radio station.”  My start was a 250 watt AM station in a small Indiana town, which (until they added FM) could barely reach the city limits.  Places like that do still exist, but now they’re usually just outlets for syndicated programs with someone else doing all the talking.  Even if you did manage to find a station that’d let you do much on the air, chances are you’d be stuck in a rigid format that frowns on any individual personality.

Voiceover’s “Poison Pill”

But let’s say you did find a local station that’d let you keep that mic open for more than ten seconds at a time.  Chances are, you’d be learning and developing skills alright… the wrong ones.  For one thing, you’d likely be tempted to sound like the other radio DJs you’ve heard all your life, and who are on the air with you now.  Trouble is, that DJ sound is exactly what voice seekers don’t want anymore.  They avoid it like the plague.  Send out a voice audition with what we used to derisively call the “Ron Radio” sound, and you probably won’t be heard past slating your name.  Even if you’re not yukking it up like a DJ, chances are you’ll be considered “too announcer-y“.  It doesn’t matter how nice your voice sounds.

Writing Your Own Ticket

Unlike my experience, you also won’t find yourself in a position to develop your own style by creating your own material.  It didn’t take long for me to figure out I’d never make it as a Disc Jockey.  But I did enjoy running what they used to call a “tight board”, turning the various elements of an air shift (commercials, Public Service Announcements, time & temp, and the music) into one smooth audio flow.  After a few wrong turns I was finally able to see a more likely radio future in the production room.  Doing commercials and little comedy bits for the “real announcers”, I was able to use all the character voices I’d gleaned from years of watching Bugs Bunny and Yogi Bear and Bullwinkle.  Not just funny voices.  Characters.  Eventually (very eventually), I got hired by a radio station who wanted a production guy who could “think like [Stan] Freberg and keep it clean”.  There I found a like-minded mentor who showed me how to adapt my writing skills into creating good, engaging, and entertaining advertising copy.  Within a year, I started picking up local Addy Awards.  Part of my secret was being able to write material for myself I already knew I was good at.  The other part was luck in having advertisers who let me do it.  You may not be able to rely on your own word-smithing to give you an edge.

So What Am I Supposed To Do?

Chances are, you can’t get away with doing what I did.  Heck, I wouldn’t be able to get away with it myself.  Radio stations don’t have time to train you, they want you to hit the ground running.  And formats are so rigid today, the kinds of stuff I created would never get on the air.  And studios?  They don’t have time to un-train you!

Parallel Highways

Have you ever been driving down an Interstate and notice an old two-lane road running alongside?  It’s an older way to get somewhere, but not exactly the same route or even end point.  There are still ways you can adapt the things I did to get into voice work.  Not everyone has the same experience, but here are some parallels.

  1. Find A Place To Stink. Comedian George Burns lamented the end of Vaudeville because, he said, it left “no place to be bad”.  Touring the circuit, performers were able to learn what worked and what didn’t, until their talents were polished and their individual styles emerged.  You may not have local radio, but there are podcasts, local theatre, or even just fooling around with the record button on your phone.  Learn to listen to yourself.  Compare what you hear to the sound and style of national (not local) commercials.  Don’t imitate those voices.  Find a way to do your own version of those styles.
  2. Find a Mentor. Sure,  you probably won’t have anyone like the guys who took me under their creative wings at the radio stations.  But you can find teachers online, maybe even where you live, who’ll guide you to finding your own voice (or voices).  I’m not talking about the people who want to sign you up for an instant voice demo after a $2,000.00 weekend seminar…I’m talking about someone who’ll work with you, one-on-one.  If you don’t have stage fright (or even if you do), get involved in community theatre.  You’ll learn how to use your voice in the context of a character (straight or comic). See what you can learn from various directors.  It’s likely you’ll have several mentors shaping you before you’re ready to “show yourself”.
  3. Learn what you’re good at. You may be able to do a great Homer Simpson but guess what.  That  job’s already taken.  Perhaps you can sound like Morgan Freeman or whoever the celebrity-du-jour is for producers.  But unless you’re a great impressionist, just develop your own way of adapting those styles.  It’ll happen over time.  And it will take time.

What A Long, Strange Trip It’s Been

So, yeah.  You probably won’t get anywhere in your voiceover career by trying to do it the way I did it.  But that’s because this is now…and you’re you.  I’m still at it because I’ve tried to keep learning and adapting as styles and market demands change (and they’ll always be changing).  Once you get the hang of reading the signs, I bet you’ll find the “road rise up to meet you”…instead of coming to a dead end.  I’d be interested to hear what routes you’ve discovered.

— over and out —

Two Words That Should Be In Every eMail You Send

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…no, I don’t mean “Hire Me” or “Pay Me”.

They’re simple words, easy to use, often neglected or thrown about as an afterthought.  But I’ve come to think they’re two words that don’t get used enough:

“Thank You.”

I’m not sure when I started including a “thank you” in nearly all my emails, but during the past year it’s been one of my more commendable habits.

No matter what I’m writing about, there’s almost always a way to work in a “thank you”.  And really, who doesn’t want to be thanked?

Of course it’s easy to use those two magic words when you’re sending out a request for information, or acknowledgement of winning a job…or sending an invoice.

I think I started noticing it had crept into my “stylebook” as I shot out more mundane things, like auditions.  Granted, you never know whether a person or a piece of software is handling your latest vocal gem, but what’s the harm of saying “thank you” for even the chance to participate?  …of being invited to the call, cattle or otherwise?

A “thank you” always looks good when acknowledging receipt of a script, or even requests for advice from someone who’s been told he/she “has a great voice”.

And while it’s merely my own choice, I opt for the full two words, rather than a quick “thanks”, which is a little less personal but probably just as effective.

If nothing else, you can use it to reward someone for taking time to read your whole message and not just deleting it after the first few words.

Kind of like this blog post.

So…”Thank You!”

 

 

 

— over and out —

…why would you WANT to sell a ‘fridge to an Eskimo?

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I understand.  People say you have a great voice.  They’re probably right.  You’ve practiced and practiced until you’re able to sound like all those great DJs you hear on the radio.  Or you’ve finally perfected your “Homer Simpson”.  Or maybe you’ve looked at all those quickie voiceover audition posts and can now sound like Morgan Freeman.  Time to make a demo and cash in, right?  Well…maybe.

Or – second scenario – you’ve been at this for years.  You know the ropes.  You’re a voiceover veteran and you know your own “cast of characters” inside out.  You’ll be able to wow ’em with that classic demo of yours until your voice changes with age.  Uhm…possibly.

 

Finding and booking voice work is hard enough.  Even so, I marvel at my ability to make something hard…even harder.  Too often, I keep putting out what I know I’ve done well in the past…or a laboured imitation of what I think sells today…instead of focusing on something that’s actually in demand at the moment!  …and in a way that’s totally mine, something unavailable from anyone else (even Morgan Freeman, if it comes to that).

More often than not, I’m trying to sell refrigerators to Eskimos, or worse yet, trying to sell fake snow to someone who already has loads of the real thing available.

That embarassing point becomes even more ludicrous as I now notice I’ve had the benefit of plain advice practically handed to me, gift-wrapped!  More than once!  Just this week, a studio I’ve been happily associated with for years sent out a request for examples of specific types of voices, styles, and characters they’d been asked for by their clients.  I compared what they wanted to what I had on my on Commercial Demo.  By their list, I didn’t flunk out…but I was a lot further off than I want to be.  And I remember another studio asking for the same type of specific stuff a few years ago.  I didn’t follow up.  I guess I figured my “vintage ice cubes” would still sell well enough.

Maybe you’re smart enough to have figured this out on your own.  Good on ya.  If not, maybe it’s time to start thinking more about what the buyers are interested in buying…instead of what you’re interested in selling.

Guess what I’m going to be working on in the next few weeks.

— over and out —

 

Just When You Think You’ve Heard It All…

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People who know me are in general agreement that a Big Ego isn’t one of my worst problems.

Still, every so often I catch my overly-humble self missing a real treat because I think “Oh, I already know all about that.”  This turned out to be one of those treats. And if you think you already know all about “Old Radio”, or voice acting, or creating worlds with words and sounds and music, you need to re-think…and enjoy this book.

What I thought was just another book on Nostalgia turned out to have new insights and details on the era of network Radio which I had never encountered…and I’ve been collecting recordings and books on the subject for 40 years.  If you have any interest at all in knowing how people discovered and developed the art of entertaining (and selling) through sound alone…in effect, how the business you as a voice talent proport to be part of came about, “Raised on Radio” should be on your reading list.  This is the origin of your voiceover career, whether you acknowledge it or not!

Author Gerald Nachman goes far beyond the “gee whiz” nostalgic whitewash or dry academic catalogue of so many radio histories.  His is a “warts and all” description of this Theatre of the Mind which still lets all the “beauty marks” show.

Newscasts, Sponsorships, Production and Sound Effects, Soaps, Dramas, Kiddie Shows, Quiz Programs, the relation to Vaudeville and later to TV, tie-ins to movies, music, and the history of the moment, even the development of what’s now known as the situation comedy – it’s all laid out here, in a personal, conversational tone still laced with authority.  And while not a textbook on performance, I noted several sections that would serve as guidance on things like mic technique and character development.  You may even take a fiendish glee in the section about the big movie stars who were absolutely no good in front of a microphone!

It’s a big story, in a big book.  But if you enjoy it as much as I did, you’ll wonder at how fast it goes by.

I think I’ll have to keep it around for a re-run…just to remind myself every once in awhile how much fun it is not to “know it all”.

— over and out —

…SWEEPING UP AFTER SaVoa…

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      In the interest of disclosure (not to mention Closure) as to details over recent unpleasantness, I’m offering some final words.   Okay, I doubt they’ll be the final words, but they’ll be the last you’ll see here.  And most of them aren’t my own words, but those of the various parties involved on both sides.  Treat the links below as reference material.  Point to them and my previous posts if anyone asks what all the fuss was about.  That way, no one will have to go back over the same sorry ground again and again as attempts are made to move on.

——————————————————————————————

If I was worried about my reputation being hurt by my so-called presidency at the association of voiceover artists known as SaVoa, I guess I can rest a little easier.  My own concerns are nothing compared to what the founder/creator of the group ought to be feeling right about now, after calling out practically everyone who has tried to help make his original vision a reality as a traitor and a hijacker.

The backlash has not been pretty.  The embattled creator has pulled the wagons in a circle, taking total control over what was purported to be an open and co-operative entity, compiling an Enemies List while citing dubious legal mumbo-jumbo and threatening to sue anyone who speaks contrary to his authority.

But as one person with a longer history in the group than mine has stated:   remaining silent about what’s happened runs the risk of it happening again to someone else.

So in addition to what I’ve personally written before (and which I stand by), I’ve established links to:

…the document of the founder claiming victory over his disloyal minions here – http://i638.photobucket.com/albums/uu101/imagin8r/SaVoa_Documents/LetterToSaVoaFromEdGambill_April2012.jpg

…the very detailed rebuttal from the ex-Board Members and the questions they feel you should be asking the creator here –     http://i638.photobucket.com/albums/uu101/imagin8r/SaVoa_Documents/GroupResponseFromEx-Board_April2012_Page1.jpg

http://i638.photobucket.com/albums/uu101/imagin8r/SaVoa_Documents/GroupResponseFromEx-Board_April2012_Page2.jpg

http://i638.photobucket.com/albums/uu101/imagin8r/SaVoa_Documents/GroupResponseFromEx-Board_April2012_Page3.jpg

http://i638.photobucket.com/albums/uu101/imagin8r/SaVoa_Documents/GroupResponseFromEx-Board_April2012_Page4.jpg

…and a scathing public comment from one of SaVoa’s other founding members (there were others????) here –

http://i638.photobucket.com/albums/uu101/imagin8r/SaVoa_Documents/CommentByCo-FounderResignedKeesling_4-2012.jpg

If this much time, pain, and effort had been put into creating membership benefits for SaVoa certificate holders instead of this endless play for power…the original aim of all the founders might have been accomplished by now.

(However, I am told on very good authority that if you still care at all about the original concept of an association of accredited professional voice talent, there may yet be a happy ending in the works.  I won’t be the one writing it, but I’ll be interested in what happens!)

So there it is:  what’s left of SaVoa and why.  I’m sorry to have been a part of it.  I’m especially sorry if I influenced anyone to join it.

–over and out —

Part 3 of 3: I MAY OWE YOU AN APOLOGY (about SaVoa)

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(For those who came in late, Part 2 and Part 1 are below)

What does it say when Seven Professional Voiceover Artists finally decide they no longer want their names associated with the executive board of an Association of Professional Voiceover Artists.  (That’s a rhetorical question.)

It’s one thing if you want to have your own private club with your own rules.  No problem.  Enjoy.  But before its implosion yesterday, SaVoa’s executive board was meant to be more than a single person’s domain.

Why does it still bug me?  That’s not rhetorical.  And here’s the rest of it:

Several weeks ago, a special conference call was requested by members of the executive board and convened by me, to discuss the validity of concerns (mentioned in Part 2). And while it was eventually agreed the most recent case in point was not worth a huge fight, it did expose some existing tensions, and resulted in motions to request that our founder relinquish his office of Secretary/Treasurer. After some awkward and testy exchanges, I did probably the only presidential thing of my whole blessed term and suggested a compromise of asking the founder to stay on as Treasurer but turn Secretary duties over to another member, an idea which had been offered by our then-Vice President and with which I agreed.

The protestation was made that we did not have enough North Carolina residents to satisfy our charter, unless I was willing to take over another office. Further discussion was avoided when our attorney advised us that there was actually no such restriction on a certain number of officers being residents of the state.

Further proposed shufflings were proposed. And our founder was, justifiably, ticked off…feeling he was being given the Captain Queeg role in our own version of “The Caine Mutiny”. Raw nerves were exposed, tempers grew thin. And when our still- Secretary/Treasurer moved we table the conversation until a later time, I lost my temper. Rightly or wrongly, I hotly stated we were already in a meeting with the authority to discuss the issue and I was tired of hearing complaints from board members yet having to stand by — powerless to do anything either way.  I lost all diplomacy and, as us old folks still say, I lost “my cool”.  And it’s all there on the recording I was making for the group as meeting minutes and provided them with later…unedited with my blow-up intact.

A vote was taken, and the Secretary and Treasurer’s jobs were split, our founder promising to hand over the seal, membership database materials, and website passwords to another member who stepped forward to act as temporary Secretary.

I regained my composure somewhat for the remainder of the meeting, apologized for my outburst…and later that evening informed all concerned that I was resigning my position as so-called President. I had seen and heard for myself what had happened when I had tried to assert the authority I was supposed to have had. And it was a character I did not want to see ever again.

The board members, to a man (and one woman), assured me I was overstating my embarrassment…that they took no offense…and wanted me to stay on. One or two even complimented me for being one of the few to finally say something everyone else had been thinking.

I let my resignation stand, writing a lengthy explanation to the board as to why I felt they had a better chance of making great changes to SaVoa without me at the top of the roster.

I even stated for the record that I gave the group’s creator the benefit of the doubt…that I had not been recruited and put in place just so I would be the “reputation” and “friendly face” of SaVoa while the inner workings stayed with the status quo. But I told them that true or imagined, I sure felt that way.

The next week, as a courtesy, I was informed that new officers had been selected and voted upon in an emergency conference call. New members were being brought up into the executive board. Looked like things were finally ready to take off…progress to be made…benefits to members realized…faces saved . I was asked if I’d like to retain my shield and the designation, Friend of SaVoa…which I gratefully agreed to.

I told my friends I would withhold public comment about the recent dustup. No need to air the dirty laundry, now that it appeared the washing machine was working.

Now comes the “spin cycle”.

Now I learn that the creator/Treasurer has re-thought his relinquishment of power. I am informed that he’s consulted outside attorneys to fight his “ouster”. The control of the savoa.org website will not be relinquished, nor its database of members. (While the claim of the founder that he paid for the establishment and upkeep of the site is absolutely valid, one of the last decisions I presided over was that he would be reimbursed for all his expenses to date with our thanks.)

With this, and all the talk of “lawyer-ing up”, I think I’ve changed my mind as well. No longer am I willing to give SaVoa’s creator the “benefit of the doubt” about anointing me as a mere  figurehead for my supposed reputation, so he could stay in control.

And I resent the hell out of it.

Mind you, this is all from my perspective. This is my experience and these are my opinions. You will doubtless hear or read other accounts, if you’re not too fatigued to follow them. I have deliberately gone out of my way not to name names. They’re easy enough to find for those who want to dig.

This is about MY name…and how I feel it has been misappropriated and misused.

All I can attest to is what I feel.

What I feel is “used”…used for my name – my reputation – to put a false front on something that could have really truly been a good thing for freelance voice talent.

Instead, it has imploded on itself, and given credence to some of its most vocal critics who originally dismissed SaVoa as just one good ol’ boy’s private clubhouse.

And that…makes…me…mad.

— over and out —

Part 2: I MAY OWE YOU AN APOLOGY (concerning SaVoa)

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When one person resigns from an Executive Board, it’s not news.  When everyone BUT one person resigns…maybe so.

(For those who came in late:  see Part 1 below)

My departure as so-called President of the voiceover group known as SaVoa was my own decision, and I resigned feeling it was I who had failed the group.   Now I’m not so sure.

Like I said, it seemed the only real benefit I brought the non-profit group known as SaVoa was my reputation.

I said as much to the group’s creator, who was asking me to take over the title of President from him. He did me the honor of saying he thought that people who knew me, or knew of me, would see my acceptance of top office in SaVoa as a sign of positive change.

And indeed, some positive changes were slowly developing: reasons to offer when potential members asked the very real question: “Why should I join? How would it help me?”

A couple of our members took it upon themselves to “spread the Good Word” at voiceover conventions and gatherings. A few even spent their own money on promotional items for distribution (they were later paid back, but it seemed to take forever). One social-network-savvy member put in the work to create a companion website to the savoa-dot-org main site, establish a member forum, generate discussions and generally create awareness (again, he was later reimbursed for his expense, but he did it on his own).

Earlier this year, it seemed as if SaVoa was really poised to start delivering on some of its potential. Efforts were being made to create materials for a concerted promotional push outside the membership: advertising and promoting to people in the production community that a SaVoa membership shield on a freelance voice talent’s business card or home page was an indication the producer’s job would suddenly become a whole lot easier, by hiring an accredited talent. This was, finally, something we could respond with when someone asked what benefit membership would have.

The group’s own founder made good-faith efforts to find an insurance company to offer discounts to members. State laws made medical insurance impossible, but there were other forms of coverage in the works, only to stall from the insurer’s lack of interest. Our founder also had the great idea of expanding SaVoa to cover voice talent in other languages, recruiting people who would be qualified to evaluate talent in their own countries. SaVoa’s creator also, to his credit, advanced the idea of inviting more female talent onto the advisory and executive boards. It was an honest attempt to counter the somewhat accurate but unintentional perception that it was nothing more than a “Good Ol’ Boys Club”.

Another member, an attorney who just happens to also be a great talent (you may have seen him in a Super Bowl ad), offered to help out with legal questions and go over the group’s non-profit charter and by-laws.

Our board chairman, who was also our Vice President (and whose organizational skills still put me in awe) kept everyone notified of monthly conference calls, established the agendas, and made sure everyone had a voice in the proceedings.

President Me? I pretty much did what I’d been doing…offering an opinion or asking a question when I felt I had something worthy of input. Leadership? What Leadership?

…which put me in another awkward position when our chairman let us know he had to bow out for awhile due to some planned surgery which would affect his ability to talk. Nothing serious, but he’d be out of commission for awhile. I was asked, as president, to take over scheduling the conference calls and running the meetings till he got back. Just a month. Maybe two. And I’d have plenty of help. That was…how many months ago? I forget.

I’ve called myself the “intern president”. When asked if I meant “interim president”, I’ve used it as a self-effacing joke. A “joke” is pretty much what I felt I was in office anyway, though I continued to help out with reviewing voice demos of applicants, which I felt somewhat qualified to do.

Before and after our chairman’s sabbatical, it was often difficult to get our founder to be present in the conference calls. This wasn’t so much a problem of having a quorum, but the fact that he was also the Secretary/Treasurer, and the only one (it seemed) who had the passwords to the main website and paypal accounts. And to be fair, he…just like the rest of us…had a Real Life to attend to in addition to SaVoa. Perfectly understandable.

He was also good-naturedly chided month after month for not keeping our paperwork up to date with the IRS to comply with our non-profit tax status. We didn’t owe anything, but you know those folks really do love their paperwork. In all the meetings I was a part of, before and after “presidency”, it was kind of a running joke: “…haven’t gotten everything filed yet.” “I’ll get to it. By next meeting for sure.” I say it was treated with humor because no one on the board felt the treasury funds were being mishandled. But there was concern we could see our non-profit status jeopardized if the right forms weren’t kept up to date.

Adding to our founder’s workload were his duties heading the tech review committee (which evaluated the sound of a member’s home studio with a professional audio engineer’s ear and standards). Our VP/chairman had been on the committee, but was now out of commission. The other main committee member had resigned some months prior, not being able to devote proper time to the responsibility. One of our other members helped with reviews, but evidently did not always agree with the creator on quality standards. That made for friction.  Since I’ve never claimed to be an engineer (though I’ve been called a production genius), I stayed out of those conflicts, deferring to those more experienced.  And honestly, I’d rather get between two fighting cats than two quarreling engineers.

There it is again: deferring to the more experienced.

So what’s so bad about that?  Maybe nothing….except that “nothing” was mostly what was getting done.

Committees, by their very nature, are inefficient in my opinion. But the alternative is to leave all the decisions and work to a very few individuals.  Either way, progress on these and other issues was agonizingly slow. It seemed whenever we’d be on the verge of getting something started, the decision would be tabled for later discussion, or referred to another committee…which never got formed.

Our resident member-attorney worked over the group’s by-laws to customize them for our organization, and look for things we might need to add along the way. Systems of accountability through the advisory and executive boards were being hashed out. A wider distribution of control and authority was proposed on several levels. Some of these proposals were formally and politely resisted. And in more than one instance the objection came from the same person…who insisted he could manage things just fine the way they were.

(This would be a great place to introduce a Conspiracy Theory. In my view, there wasn’t one. That may not stop you from hearing other claims.)

But objections were raised at how members were recruited into the boards, and by whom (although the required votes were always dutifully taken). Objections were raised by some qualified folk who felt their engineering and technical skills were being ignored and possibly subverted by the status quo.

As the by-laws were put under legal scrutiny, a flap developed over concern that some applicants were being pushed through channels into membership without the proper vetting, showing favoritism. And those accusations were leveled toward the officer with the most power to do so. It wasn’t the “intern president”.

— to be continued —

I MAY OWE YOU A BIG APOLOGY (if you joined SaVoa because of my name)

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So long, SaVoa.  I’m sorry.  Really truly sorry.

…and I’m angry.  Really truly angry.

As a voice talent, being used sort of comes with the territory, right?  I mean, you put yourself out there as spokesperson for whatever the script may call for (within reason).  It’s understood up front.  No harm, no foul.

But what happens when something you’ve put your voice to turns out not to be quite as advertised? And what if people are hurt after buying into it because you were such an effective “shill”?

Some years ago, a fellow got the really truly good idea for a group which would be called SaVoa:  Society of Accredited Voiceover Artists.  He, and some founding members, braved ridicule and derision for thinking there ought to be a non-profit group…or guild…or association…of professional, veteran voice talent who could establish a certain recognized level of talent and technical ability.  This was not to be/or/compete with a union.  As I later thought I understood the concept, it would be a sort of Underwriters Laboratory for voice talent:  wherein a producer considering a voice might see the SaVoa shield and be assured a quality job from an experienced talent.  …a Good Housekeeping Seal, of sorts.  Not a guarantee of work for the member, but one more reason for a potential client to say, “yes”.  This made sense to me because I regularly have clients of my own call and ask, “Who do you know that does…”.  And I have regularly benefitted from being recommended by another talent, and having my abilities vouched for by a trusted pro.

SaVoa’s creator, who by his own admission can come across as confrontational, took a lot of guff from the skeptics as he slowly sought the support of like-minded individuals.  Some reactions to his idea were downright hostile (“who do you think YOU are to judge ME???”)  Others were not so much offended as bewildered (“okay, I’m not sure how this would really benefit me”).  Originally, I counted myself among the latter, but saw no harm in the concept.

I’m still surprised when someone tells me they know my name, or my work, or my reputation.  I’m even more surprised when they express admiration for my talents and character.  I expressed that surprise a few years ago when I was approached to help with SaVoa’s advisory board by its then-President, the group’s creator.  While expressing thanks for the kind words, I reminded the gent that I wasn’t even a member…had never applied, submitted voice and tech samples or membership fee, nor did I really have it on my priority list, though I wished the organization no ill will.  I was told that wouldn’t be a problem.  The proper committe members would “vet” me, and my help in evaluating talent and perfomances could prove really useful.  I agreed, not feeling I had that much to offer, but willing to see if I could indeed help.

I sat through monthly conference calls, offered an opinion here and there, listened and offered opinions on some of the voice demos from potential members.  And that was about it.  I felt the others knew far more about how SaVoa was supposed to work, and so did not do much else in the way of “advising”.  Imagine my further surprise when not much later I was asked to accept a position on the Executive Board.  Again, I demurred, citing my lack of experience within the group and my status as a non-paying member.  Again, I was assured it would be beneficial to SaVoa to have someone of my reputation and experience on board (sorry…you know it’s bad when the puns come out unintended).  I accepted.

Surprise turned to outright disbelief when, not too much later, I was again approached by the group’s creator to see if I would consider accepting the presidency of SaVoa.  As it was explained to me, the original non-profit charter required a certain number of officers to be residents of North Carolina where the application was filed and approved.  There was to be a shuffling of duties and, as it was put to me by the group’s creator, he was aware that a lot of potential members might be put off by his somewhat abrasive public shows of personality…whereas I had a great reputation in both the talent and character departments, and could help SaVoa improve its image, while he stayed more in the background as Secretary/Treasurer.  Again I protested my inexperience, and my total lack of interest in parliamentary procedure, debate, and organizational structure.  Again I was assured there would be plenty of experienced hands to support me.

I knew I wasn’t the first person to be approached for this position.  So I checked with a couple of the others who were friends of mine.  Both explained their reasons for declining, and left the decision to me.

I wish I had listened to them.

— to be continued —

Hey, Mr. Answer Man!

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     …got call from a second person in as many days, asking if I teach voiceover for locals. I keep deflecting calls and emails like these, offering a boilerplate document instead which outlines my observations on what it takes to get started.

But more and more, I’m wondering if I’m doing the person calling a disservice or a favor.

I do spend time with anyone who calls before offering to send the “Basics” sheet.  I’m mindful that the only way I’ve ever advanced my own career has been through others who’ve taken time with me when I came with questions.  The ones I’ve paid charged a fair price.  Most never asked for anything at all.  However, as I listen to myself responding, I often have to backtrack and rephrase so I don’t sound like I’m just saying, “Forget it, kid.  It’s too hard, and there’s too much competition.”

It’s a quandry with very few obvious and concrete answers.  Do I freely give as much time as everyone needs?  Do I look at my own precarious finances and decide it’s time to profit from what I know?  Do I really have any business advising others, given the scattered and uneven financial success I’ve had?  Do I owe it to others to pass on my experience, hoping it will benefit someone just starting out?

My friend Doug Turkel (the UNnouncer) frequently adds to his witty tirades against an un-named “Guru” who packages common sense or easily-found-for-free info at a hefty price as “Secrets to Voiceover Success”.  I know I don’t want to be perceived as one of those people.  But I also don’t want to be seen as a jealous gatekeeper, anxious to squash anyone’s dreams or stifle the budding career of someone who might turn out to be the next Harlan Hogan, Randy Thomas, or Tom Kenny.

Finding a point of empathy is a talent I’m told I possess.  It’s not only helped me in voiceovers, it’s helped me successfully direct other talent to measurably improved performances.  I’m even being hired to direct other talent now…by other directors!   So am I foolishly ignoring a viable revenue stream?  Or am I being noble and assuming I don’t know enough that’s valuable enough to charge for?

     I sometimes wonder if being an expert in the field simply means little more than being the one who’s still stubbornly plugging away at something when all the sensible people have bailed!

— over and out —