What’s Wrong with the Way I Talk?

How do I hate my voice, let me counts the ways.

A few days ago, a friend contacted me and asked if I might be interested in doing an audition tape with him. No, the audition is for him, not for me, but he is paying me for my voice time. I’m never against making a few more coins on top of the few coins I already make, so I agreed.

Then, I got curious. I sort of have an idea of what I sound like because I change my voicemail message every day. It ain’t the nicest thing to listen to. My normal voice is a little higher pitched than I always expect and has a nasal quality that only a fellow sinus sufferer can love. It also has a quality to it that I’ve heard in long-time smokers and I’m a lifelong non-smoker. I also talk faster than some of the doctors I complain about. I basically sound like a dorky, asthmatic teenager who’s had one too many colas. While I’ll proudly call myself a dork, admit to having allergies and imbibing in 2-3 caffeinated beverages a day, my time of qualifying to be a teenager is long over.

The audition tape is scripted. You might think there’s hope in that fact. Trust me, that only makes it worse. The last time I read from a script was during a brief stint in drama club back in the stone age of junior high, when I realized that an actor’s life was not for me. I tried practicing with the recording software on my computer the other night and was disappointed, to say the least. I mean, when you want to wince on hearing something that you consider good writing, there’s something wrong. I read without hitting the emotional marks that I would want to hear as a listener, and my delivery sounded


disjointed,



distracted,



borderline staccato (not to be confused with borderline psychotic, although …)


But, let’s face it. Few of us can say we like the way we sound, scripted or unscripted, rehearsed or impromtu. When asked, we can find the negative qualities faster than anyone else and can likely name someone that we wouldn’t mind sounding a little more like (Lauren Bacall is my personal choice). But, unless you’re willing to put more time and effort into sounding your best, you’re stuck with what you’ve got.

Like me. Like my friend who’s going to have my voice right next to his silken tones in that audition clip.

Wait, do you suppose that’s why he wants me there, so I can contrast him and make him sound better? He wouldn’t do that to me – would he?

Aw, who cares? Show me the money and let the world decide how many fingernails down the chalkboard I sound like.