for fun, read this out loud.

Specs:  generally pleasant and even, not too slow but slow enough for the listener to easily follow.  conversational yet informative.  not too announcer or narrator-y.  good luck.

A blow by blow.

(pause) (don't read the pauses.)

6:30am.  I wake and wonder why my alarm went off at 6:30am.  Then I remember that I have to record an audiobook audition before the baby wakes up.  ahhh.

6:38am.  I quietly consult youtube to attempt to remember what a Maine accent sounds like.  Also, I clear my throat repeatedly and wonder if this is even possible.

6:50am.  With laptop and pillows in tow, I climb into the backseat of my Hyundai to attempt to record in the most dead sound space I have at home.  

6:55am.  After trying pillows in varying configurations around me to contain the sound and block any flat, reflective surfaces, I begin recording into the laptop on my... lap.

6:56-7:20am.  After multiple attempts to read the lengthy book demo, I decide that sirens, birds, falling pecans, and my own mistakes will prevent me from recording this audition at home.  I pack up and head inside.

7:21-7:45.  I enter the house peeved and flustered.  Husband makes me lay down and cuddle.  Eventually I feel better.

(switch to more of a relaxed, narrative read.)

The baby wakes, and husband gets her a milk while I am reborn in the shower.  I later make oatmeal and share it with the baby while I look up old invoices and production orders to answer a client's question from yesterday and forward the aforementioned audiobook audition script to an engineer I'll see later.  I've got a 10am morning session that should last an hour, an hour to eat lunch and scoot over to pick up a paycheck, then a 3-hour session reading a math course in the afternoon.  I'm hoping I can knock out the audition before reading about math.

I look up, and the baby is wearing her oatmeal.  She's very fetching, especially with oatmeal all over her arms and pjs, matted in her hair, and globbed in her neck fold.

I bathe her and dress her for the day and hope I don't get anything on me because it took me forever to decide what to wear the first time.

I decide I should also put on makeup and finish getting ready since I'll be late in 5 minutes.

I kiss my family goodbye and head to the first studio.  5 minutes late.  The client is 5 minutes late, too, so no huge breach of etiquette.  

I mean, one of the clients is 5 minutes late.  The other is 30 minutes late.  The point is, we start recording late.  After recording multiple on-hold messages for numerous restaurants - each with it's own 'vibe' and varying reads 'just in case', I walk out of the studio three and a half hours later.  

It should probably be mentioned that while I was in the studio:

Afternoon engineer texts that the internet and phone are down at his studio.  Which is bad since our math scripts are online.

I wondered if this meant my audition would be a bust, so I text another engineer nearby to check his availability to record an audition for me in the next couple of hours.  He texts back that he's busy now but maybe later - can it be done tomorrow?  I text no, today.

I get a message from my agent booking me for a gig next week, that conflicts with a gig I already have that isn't though my agent.  I confirm with my agent and make a mental note to reschedule the other.

The engineer with the down internet texts that he's on his way home to print scripts.  I text and beg him to print my audition, too.  I'll pay him, I say.  He says K.  He knows I'm good for it.

I text the other engineer to say no biggie, I got it taken care of.  He texts back that I could totally come by in an hour.  I say no thanks but you're awesome and I mean it.

The session finally ends and I leave that studio.  I call husband to see if he can pick up my check at my agent's, since I'm hours late to math session now.  He is dropping the baby off at Grammy's to spend the night while we attend a concert tonight and go to the annual meeting with our financial advisor in the morning.  He agrees to go get my check and is generally reassuring.  I remember how great it is to be married to him.  

I arrive at my afternoon session almost two hours later than we'd planned, but he's not mad thanks to his own internet drama.  Lunch was totally missed, so I scarf a granola bar and grab a bottle of water.  We record my audition, an English-as-a-second-language learning module, and two chapters of math.

ESL courses have to be read unnaturally slowly, because the participants are learning and need time to hear and connect the words and sounds.  It's not easy at all.  For practice, go up to the last paragraph and try to read it aloud slowly and semi-presentationally, where you hear every word clearly.  Have fun.

Before I start the second math chapter, I think to text the director of my conflicting session next week to reschedule.  Thursday?  Nope, but free all day Friday.  Done.  I hastily try to update the calendar on my iphone with everything that's happened today and know I've missed something somewhere.  My throat is starting to feel scratchy, so I gulp more water.

We finish math thirty minutes earlier than expected.  The engineer asks if I'm done, because we could easily throw down another chapter time-wise, and I say yes yes I'm done I'm done I'm sorry but I'm over.  

We remind each other of the lion's share of this course left to do next week and I promise to be on time early Monday morning.  We pleasantly and somewhat giddily bid one another adieu, because it's Friday and we're done.  Well, I'm done.  He's going to edit a few things we did yesterday and my audition, and email everything to me.  I'll have it by the time I pull into my driveway.

I get home, I grab the laptop and head to the bathroom, feeling the effects of my afternoon water consumption.  While vacating I open the audition, save it to my computer, and resend it to the audiobook casting director with what I hope comes off as a breezy, confident little note.   With everything that's happened, I don't have the energy to obsess about whether the audition is perfect or not.  

I let the dog out, head to the garage, and grab a cold sparkling water from the extra refrigerator out there.  I settle into the couch, and have the thought to blog about this day.

This is being my own boss.  This is being a full-time actor in my skin.  I started acting professionally 18 years ago and this is what I've built.  It requires juggling and flexibility and patience and perseverance and a strong work ethic and a semblance of organization and a positive attitude and some acting, both for the work and sometimes for the people who hire me to do the work.  It encompasses many failures and many successes and is ever-changing and ever the same.  I absolutely can't do it without a lot of help and support, because it's really supposed to come in as my third job after wife and mother.  I say supposed to, because I come from a long line of workaholic-types and sometimes I allow the line to blur.  But really, acting just lets me use my natural gifts to help support my family.  My husband and baby feed my soul - my job, not so much, which is okay.  For all of the fun and pride I take in some of the things I do, at the end of the day it's just a fairly interesting means to an end and I'm sincerely grateful for it.

Monday morning, I'll kiss the baby goodbye and feel painfully guilty about my busy schedule.  I'll record math for three hours in the morning and an audiobook for three hours in the afternoon.  My throat will be scratchy and I'll likely need to pop a couple of Tylenol when I get home.  I'll love my family as best I can until I fall asleep.

Tuesday, repeat.

Thank you God, for the luxury of this life.  Help me to always know what's most important and how to navigate these waters, in this season.

(take a swig.  you've earned it.)

-m.y.

addendum:  the casting director just called, less than 2 hrs after I send the audition, to say I booked the book!  I'm stoked!  I'm sweaty to think of how to schedule it.