You see, I always want to stay in the presence of mind that I am currently very lucky to do this sort of thing. That here in the midwest, to be able to do acting of any kind, especially voice over work, and have it be a part of my day job is so astronomically beyond insane, it's not funny.
In this particular situation, I had done some something in the booth vocally during a session for the elves, that made a role that had initially been given to an external actor, seem like a good idea for me to take a shot at. I think it was because my range includes a lower register of sounds and rumbles, and the character I was told I was going to audition for was named Charlie. That's what I had to go on.
So a few days later, I got an e-mail setting my audition date, and some audio files of what the earlier actor (Gregory Roberts) had done. I was at a bit of a loss on how to go about it, because I didn't just want to emulate what had come before, I wanted to understand who this character was, so I asked for anything visual I could use to base my performance on.
It turns out, an animated short, "Polariffic", had been done, and Charlie already existed in that way, but it had not yet been released to the public as it was part of a larger marketing campaign for NorthPole. After getting a chance to watch it, I would come to find out that the character Charlie was a young Yeti, not a scary monstrous creature, more of a confused and lonely outsider, who had hidden fun exuberance and a need to feel wanted.
After watching the short, I felt a lot of pressure mount at the same time that I felt some relief. Part of it was, still being fairly new to this whole thing, I was so nervous I was going to blow this audition. Sure, Charlie isn't so much a true clear diction speaking part as much as he is a conglomeration of guttural sounds and some bestial sort of speaking.
Now, as I noted before, I work at Hallmark currently, primarily as a Production Artist. For many years prior to this I had worked in smaller studios and done freelance, so I still tend to forget myself and where I work in that pressures and day to day ins and outs can affect me. Without going into much detail, I was going through a very rough stress point at this time professionally, and worked myself into such a lather, that it was inevitable that something bad would happen, if not dampen my ability to give reliable and sound performances in the booth.
The first audition for Charlie was quick and enjoyable, and shortly thereafter, I got word that I was going to be the new voice for him on a series of new items that had been planned. It's no joke that I was bowled over by this, as I had really expected to not have gotten the role. I'm not sure why I thought that, I had fun at the audition, and the session went smoothly enough, but perhaps because other aspects of my job were a bit jittery at the time, I felt like I was doing a precarious balancing act.
So fast forward about two weeks or so, and a much longer session, this one about 45 minutes to about an hour came up. Now in those weeks between sessions, my internal stress levels were practically volcanic in nature. I am a staunch believer that if you can, you leave all of your personal issues at home, and when you clock in/walk in to work, you leave it all behind. The thing was, the problems were manifesting at work.
The day of the recording session, my stomach was in turmoil, I was nauseous, and had the onset of a migraine coming on. Any given day, I am extremely grateful for my job, for all of it. That day, I wanted to burn my desk down, I wanted to kick my computer screen in, but most of all, I wanted to curl up and just expire. I had no idea stress could do the things it was doing to me. Unrelenting and just overwhelming are maybe two words that do what I was feeling, justice.
You know that feeling that any random trigger could possibly push you over the edge and physical sickness would be both violent and best experienced in the safety and comfort of your own home? As I took the elevators up to the studio, I remembered talking to myself in that elevator. I was so excited to record, but mortified that I would not be able to hold it together.
I remember every step I took towards that studio, I remember beads of sweat on my neck, my hands felt cold, and how I didn't even want to look at or think about food. I got into the studio, and there were about five to seven people in there. A lot of this is where it gets so fuzzy for me to remember.
The level of acting I put on before I even opened up the booth to begin recording was, if I might say so myself, Emmy worthy. Somehow, I forced myself to focus on the moment, on how extremely cool this could me, how I didn't want to mess this up, how important this could potentially be.
When I draw, or write poetry, there is a happy and mild zone I go into, one of self relaxation, where so many other outside stimuli are silenced and I fall into creating. This session was the first one that felt that way for me. It was the fastest 45 minutes of my life. I had a lot of fun, I ad libbed, worked the characterization, hit my lines and emotions... I was ecstatic. But then, as soon as I was done, my body spoke up.
"We'll give you an hour..." is what every fiber of my being seemed to say as sweating, discomfort, and an attack of after performance nerves kicked down the door to my brain and moved in, "and then all bets are off, bub."
What went from a freefall of happiness, jerked into a "bomb on a bus" scenario in my head. That day happened to be Julie's birthday if I recall right, because food was being brought to the studio.
FOOD.
NNnnnnnnnnnoooooOOOOOOOoooooO!!!!
I politely declined, and told everyone present that I had to be leaving soon, in fact that very minute, and after some awkward and quick exchanges with everyone, I left.
It is literally a country mile between where the studio is, and where I park my truck. Hallmark is a big, big, BIG place.
With every movement, I could feel sicker and less in control of myself. It was a wonder I made it to my truck and home, but somehow, I did. And none too soon, as the rest of the afternoon was a purge like no other. I am sure medical books could be rewritten, and physics formulas thrown out the window, because I know I broke some laws of the universe while my body finally relented and gave out.
I take some solace in hoping that no one in that studio knew what I was going through, how nervous and agitated I really was. That the entire time I was borderline sick.
But when it came down to it, the job I had to do was important. I didn't want to reschedule, I didn't want to get this taken from me.
I persevered, and it all came out okay. But it did affect me enough that I was certainly off in my next recording session about a week later.
Next up, trying to sound like an ass in the sound booth!
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