For the last few weeks I’ve been working on Redacting Rosslyn, a solo performance of vignettes, monologues and storytelling from Rosslyn Redux. I hope you’ll join me on Wednesday, August 3 at The Depot Theatre in Westport, NY. (Did I mention there’s a cocktail reception?)
Lights, stage, audience, action! I’ll morph from storyteller to author right before your eyes. With a little help from the audience…
I love to perform, but I always apologize for my voice.
It’s funny. When I rehearse — aloud or in my head — my voice is Bourbon and caramel. Resonant. Enveloping. It’s the secret weapon of a guerrilla storyteller!
But then I hear a recording of myself or watch a video, and I’m certain the sound isn’t working properly. Bad mic? Is the equalizer busted? Probably the speakers are blown. I don’t have that pre-pubescent, one-dimensional voice that scurries for the rafters every few minutes. Really, I don’t.
Only, I do. It’s me. That voice is my own. And though I’ve come to terms with it, I do have moments when I’m rehearsing that I daydream… What if I woke up sounding like James Earl Jones?
What is the most important thing you want, that you didn’t grow up with?
I’ve always longed for a deep, velvety radio announcer voice. A disk jockey voice. An actor voice. But no dice or wrong DNA or something…
After almost four decades of vocal shenanigans I’ve accepted my lot, but if I wake up tomorrow with the voice of Darth Vader instead of Luke Skywalker, well, let’s just say that I’d be okay with that!