Project Main Details
We will need you to submit an audition to be considered for this batch of books. We will be assigning books to talents Thursday morning. The original due date we gave for the book to be completed was October 31st, the delivery due date has changed to November 7th. We will need you to be available between now and November 17th for this project.
If you have not recorded an audio book please let us know-
Specs for final audio :
Sample Rate: 44.1hkz / mono / 16-bit .wav files
Levels: The voiceover audio should hit -6 db to -4 db on average, with an RMS of -18 db.
Mic Chain Processing: DO NOT compress or limit the microphone chain. Bypass all processing.
Mic Placement: Pay attention to the placement of your microphone and your distance from it so the sound will be consistent throughout the book. Record a short narration match file and refer to it for volume and consistency of microphone presence.
No Delivery File Processing: DO NOT compress, gate, or use noise reduction on audio files. Never use any gates or downward expansion. 2012-10-17 20:54:00 GMT 2012-10-19 18:00:00 (GMT -07:00) Mountain Time (US & Canada) Yes (click here to learn more about ) Closed 0 0 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 200 auditions and/or proposals for this project (approx.) Invitations sent by SmartCast have resulted in 0 audition(s) and/or proposal(s) so far.
She smiled and tapped the side of her goggles with a finger. “I’m not blind. I can do needlework. I suffer a condition of the eyes that allows me to see with perfect clarity in darkness but which causes me great pain in daylight or in the presence of gas lamps. I would be entirely incapacitated without these glasses.”
“Ah. Good!” I said, before hastily correcting myself. “Er, that you’re not blind, I mean! Is it—is it a congenital condition?”
“Quite so, Reverend. I was born with it.” She made a gesture that indicated her entire body. “As for the rest, a childhood accident is to blame—a chance occurrence, or perhaps it was the will of God, or maybe I was responsible for some misdeed in a past life and am now suffering a natural retribution. I suppose I must have done something very bad to have been thus punished!”
Startled by this statement, I replied, “You refer to the Buddhist belief in reincarnation, and in reaping what you sow over the course of multiple lifetimes?”
She nodded. “They call it karma. But I was merely being facetious. I don’t really believe in it—I’m a strictly practical sort. Supernatural and theological explanations for the world and our existence in it interest me only in so far as they might give hints of forgotten scientific knowledge. I mean no offence.”
“None taken! I’m not so dyed in the wool that I would deny a person the right to question the veracity or usefulness of the Christian faith—or any other creed, for that matter. I was simply taken aback that you know of Buddhist beliefs, that is all.”
“Because I appear a down-and-out, and you therefore presumed me ill-informed about such matters?”
I hesitated, feeling rather disoriented by the strange conversation that had come out of nowhere to interrupt my morning studies. “Forgive my forthrightness,” I said, “but yes, you do have the air of a beggar about you, and I’ve never heard a man or woman of that unfortunate class speak as you do.”
“Class! It is not a class, sir! It is misfortune and adverse circumstances that cause a person to fall to this state, not inherited qualities of character!”
I shifted from one foot to the other, a vicar made awkward and embarrassed by a vagrant, and stuttered, “Of c-course. Forgive me. It was a bad choice of—of—of words. I meant nothing by it. I appear to have jumped to conclusions about you on sight and now find that all of them are wrong. You are obviously not at all what I took you to be. May I—may I ask your name?”
“I am Clarissa Stark.”
“Would you care to come in, Miss Stark? I’m moved to hear your story, and I have a thick vegetable soup on the stove. It won’t take long to heat up. We’ll forego the needlework. The people of this town are used to seeing me in frayed shirts. They’d be confused if I presented them with otherwise.”
“Thank you, Reverend—?”
I ushered her through to my small kitchen and she sat at the table while I put a flame under the soup and set some water to boil. Later, if I could do so without sounding impolite, I’d offer her the opportunity to wash.
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