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Project Main Details
Audio book JJ
LTK14404496751X
130,000 words. Book is set in Puerto Rico. Some words through out the book requires Spanish. Talent must speak clear English as well.
Teenage girl telling the story of her brutal life with her parent between 12 and 17 years of age in the 1940's.
No post production required Apr 06, 2008 10:27:34 Pacific Time (US & Canada) Apr 18, 2008 13:00:00 Pacific Time (US & Canada) Yes (click here to learn more about
)
Closed
4
4
0 direct invitation(s) have been sent by the voice seeker resulting in 0 audition(s) and/or proposal(s) so far.
Voice123 SmartCast is seeking 20 auditions and/or proposals for this project (approx.) Invitations sent by SmartCast have resulted in 4 audition(s) and/or proposal(s) so far.
Teenage girl telling the story of her brutal life with her parent between 12 and 17 years of age in the 1940's.
No post production required Apr 06, 2008 10:27:34 Pacific Time (US & Canada) Apr 18, 2008 13:00:00 Pacific Time (US & Canada) Yes (click here to learn more about
)
Closed
4
4
0 direct invitation(s) have been sent by the voice seeker resulting in 0 audition(s) and/or proposal(s) so far.
Voice123 SmartCast is seeking 20 auditions and/or proposals for this project (approx.) Invitations sent by SmartCast have resulted in 4 audition(s) and/or proposal(s) so far.
Project Parameters
None
Fixed - USD 1200.00
Audiobooks
Not defined
English - ANY AND Spanish - Puerto Rican
English/Spanish-Puetro Rican
Young Adult Female
• Audio files must be delivered via FTP
There are no special pre-, post-, or production requirements for this project.
The talent or voice producer should have at least 1 years of experience in the voice industry.
This is a non-union project
Script Details
Yes
Script added:
Chapter One
My Escape
When the first rooster crowed, I stepped out into the chill of dawn, opening the kitchen door slowly, so that the squeak of rusty hinges would not awaken my parents. The image of my father's red face and bloodshot eyes, as he held his sharp machete at my throat the previous night, was still painfully vivid in my mind. I went under the house, which was on stilts, as most houses in the hills of Puerto Rico were, and I waited. The thick forest surrounding the house was still as dark as the bottom of an iron pot, and would stay like that for at least another hour.
At daybreak, I would run to the river, and follow it to the big city on the west end of the island, where I would make a good life for myself. I had heard my parents talk about kids who had run away from home. One girl had survived and became a nun, but others had never been heard from again. I hung onto the hope that I would survive. I had to B- and one day come back to help my little sister and brothers escape from our parents' drunkenness and brutality.
The madness in our family began when Papa met Mama in 1926. At that time, in our hills, most parents didn’t believe in long courtships. So my parents, Salvador Montalvo and Carmela Santos, married nine days after they met. All Papa knew about Mama then was that she came from a good family and was a hard worker. And all Mama knew about him was that, according to her girlfriend, his sparkling brown eyes and brilliant smile made women feel weak in the knees and have erotic dreams.
According to Mama's stories, which she told only when she was mad at Papa, they spent the honeymoon building their home on the five acres of land Papa had inherited when his father died. They cut down many trees to make the clearing, and made their own boards and beams out of those trees.
Within weeks, they had a three-room house on stilts, on a hillside overlooking the river. Actually, the house was one big room with two short walls dividing it into three spaces: la sala (the living room), el aposento (the sleeping area), and la cocina (the kitchen). One had to walk through the sleeping area to get from the kitchen to the living room and back. There was a door between the living room and the sleeping area, and one between the sleeping area and the kitchen. Those doors were to be closed only when someone needed to change clothes. A burlap curtain hung around Mama=s bed for privacy when Papa made her bed squeak and when a new baby arrived.
The lumber from the cut trees had not been given enough time to dry before nailing it in place. Consequently, when the wood finally dried, cracks opened between the boards in the walls and floor. The breeze blew in through the cracks, and on cold nights everyone had to pull their covers up to their chins to keep out the chill. Sample script added for audition:
Chapter One
My Escape
When the first rooster crowed, I stepped out into the chill of dawn, opening the kitchen door slowly, so that the squeak of rusty hinges would not awaken my parents. The image of my father's red face and bloodshot eyes, as he held his sharp machete at my throat the previous night, was still painfully vivid in my mind. I went under the house, which was on stilts, as most houses in the hills of Puerto Rico were, and I waited. The thick forest surrounding the house was still as dark as the bottom of an iron pot, and would stay like that for at least another hour.
At daybreak, I would run to the river, and follow it to the big city on the west end of the island, where I would make a good life for myself.
.....
Chapter One
My Escape
When the first rooster crowed, I stepped out into the chill of dawn, opening the kitchen door slowly, so that the squeak of rusty hinges would not awaken my parents. The image of my father's red face and bloodshot eyes, as he held his sharp machete at my throat the previous night, was still painfully vivid in my mind. I went under the house, which was on stilts, as most houses in the hills of Puerto Rico were, and I waited. The thick forest surrounding the house was still as dark as the bottom of an iron pot, and would stay like that for at least another hour.
At daybreak, I would run to the river, and follow it to the big city on the west end of the island, where I would make a good life for myself. I had heard my parents talk about kids who had run away from home. One girl had survived and became a nun, but others had never been heard from again. I hung onto the hope that I would survive. I had to B- and one day come back to help my little sister and brothers escape from our parents' drunkenness and brutality.
The madness in our family began when Papa met Mama in 1926. At that time, in our hills, most parents didn’t believe in long courtships. So my parents, Salvador Montalvo and Carmela Santos, married nine days after they met. All Papa knew about Mama then was that she came from a good family and was a hard worker. And all Mama knew about him was that, according to her girlfriend, his sparkling brown eyes and brilliant smile made women feel weak in the knees and have erotic dreams.
According to Mama's stories, which she told only when she was mad at Papa, they spent the honeymoon building their home on the five acres of land Papa had inherited when his father died. They cut down many trees to make the clearing, and made their own boards and beams out of those trees.
Within weeks, they had a three-room house on stilts, on a hillside overlooking the river. Actually, the house was one big room with two short walls dividing it into three spaces: la sala (the living room), el aposento (the sleeping area), and la cocina (the kitchen). One had to walk through the sleeping area to get from the kitchen to the living room and back. There was a door between the living room and the sleeping area, and one between the sleeping area and the kitchen. Those doors were to be closed only when someone needed to change clothes. A burlap curtain hung around Mama=s bed for privacy when Papa made her bed squeak and when a new baby arrived.
The lumber from the cut trees had not been given enough time to dry before nailing it in place. Consequently, when the wood finally dried, cracks opened between the boards in the walls and floor. The breeze blew in through the cracks, and on cold nights everyone had to pull their covers up to their chins to keep out the chill. Sample script added for audition:
Chapter One
My Escape
When the first rooster crowed, I stepped out into the chill of dawn, opening the kitchen door slowly, so that the squeak of rusty hinges would not awaken my parents. The image of my father's red face and bloodshot eyes, as he held his sharp machete at my throat the previous night, was still painfully vivid in my mind. I went under the house, which was on stilts, as most houses in the hills of Puerto Rico were, and I waited. The thick forest surrounding the house was still as dark as the bottom of an iron pot, and would stay like that for at least another hour.
At daybreak, I would run to the river, and follow it to the big city on the west end of the island, where I would make a good life for myself.
.....
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