Project Main Details
Female audiobook narrator needed for dramatic fiction with multiple European accents
We're looking for a cosmopolitan narrator to read a dramatic novel set in New York City, in the world of professional orchestral musicians. We're looking for a read that sounds intelligent, a little bourgeois, sophisticated, and a little sexy (the book has lightly erotic scenes and a love affair as a main part of the plot.) There is equal focus and dialogue from the male (Swiss) and female (New York native) main characters. This job requires competence in Swiss/French, Russian, and German accents. Knowledge of musical and artistic terms is a huge plus.
Novel is approximately 63,000 words long and should be about 7-7.5 hours in finished audio. This job pays $200 USD per finished hour of audio, for approximately $1400 USD total. Final de-breathing, mixing and mastering will be done in-house, but the narrator will be expected to deliver a clean recording fully edited for content and major interruptions. 2015-07-29 16:37:15 GMT 2015-08-05 12:00:00 (GMT -05:00) Eastern Time (US & Canada) Yes (click here to learn more about ) Closed and fulfilled 11 11 5 direct invitation(s) have been sent by the voice seeker resulting in 3 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 8 audition(s) and/or proposal(s) so far.
• Audio files must be delivered via FTP/Dropbox/Google Drive/cloud
SAMPLE BEGINS HERE:
Claude and Francine separated to greet the other guests.
They knew William Rossen, of course, and Claude’s concert
manager. People were drinking, talking, and plucking hors
d’oeuvres off trays passed by the catering staff. As he circulated,
Claude looked for Mariana. He caught a glimpse of
her in shadow at the far end of the room. Leaning against the
window with a drink in her hand, staring down at the glittering
city, she seemed very much alone. Her rigid posture,
turned away from the other guests, did not invite conversation.
Relieved to know she had come after all, Claude had
to shift his attention to a man at his elbow, who introduced
himself as a board member of Lincoln Center.
“Congratulations,” said the man — Claude did not catch his
name. “You did yourself — did all of us — proud. I so admire
the Brahms sonatas.”
“Yes, they are marvels, aren’t they? Was the program
“Not for this member of the audience. Had he written
another piece for cello and piano, I would have welcomed
it too. Brahms was a pianist, of course — I needn’t tell you
that — but he understood the cello, didn’t he? He had, or so it
seems to me, a particular sympathy for the cello’s register — I
needn’t tell you that either — and the sonatas are among his
most simpatico works . . .”
As soon as he was able to disengage himself, Claude walked
toward Mariana, coming up behind her and looking over her
shoulder at the view. His face reflected back in the window,
as did hers. He could smell the delicate fragrance she wore.
She was silent as she took a step forward and turned her
face toward his. Their eyes met for several moments before
Claude moved back and smiled at her. “You are as lovely as
your father always said you were.” Still, she said nothing. “Tell
me, Mariana, did you approve of my playing tonight? I felt
I was playing in your father’s memory, to honor him. And I
was also playing for you, knowing you were there. It matters
very much to me what you thought.”
“Yes, my father would have approved,” she said coolly.
“Apparently, he was immensely proud of you.” Now she
dropped her eyes and took a sip of her drink.
“Ah, do you say that because he gave me the Silver Swan
or because he spoke of me?”
“My father spoke almost exclusively about himself.”
Disappointed but unfazed, Claude told himself she wasn’t
being truthful. He was confident that he had had a privileged
relationship with Alexander Feldmann and had earned his
“I see your mother’s here with you.” Mariana was mocking.
“Is your father in town also?”
“No, my father didn’t come. He has his own busy schedule,
and because I play so many concerts, he follows my
career much less closely than my mother does.” He laughed.
“Besides, my father is so Eurocentric, he doesn’t feel a concert
in New York is as important as any I play in a European
capital! Were I to be playing the Dvorˇák concerto with the
New York Philharmonic, he still wouldn’t come. He just
doesn’t like America.”
“It seems your mother does not share his opinion.”
“She would go everywhere with me if I allowed her to.
She hasn’t enough to do these days. But sometimes I prefer
the company of women other than my mother.”
Pursuing what he hoped was his advantage, he continued,
“And I like you very much, Mariana. You are a beautiful woman.”
She put her empty glass on the window ledge and looked
Claude took her hand. “Did it make you terribly sad to
see the Swan in the hands of someone other than your father
“I knew it would happen one day.” She paused. “But I
always believed I would be the one to choose who that cellist
“And are you disappointed in his choice?”
She again looked at him intensely without answering.
Behind them, a woman appeared.
“Here you are! I’m Carol, Mrs. Libbey’s secretary. She
asked me to show you around the apartment, to introduce
you to her art. It’s a very special collection.”
Carol was in her fifties — trim, and brisk. She extended
her hand. Claude drew Mariana along with him, saying, “We’d
be delighted.” Carol turned back to inquire, “Should we invite
your mother to join us? She always loved these paintings.”
“That isn’t necessary,” Claude answered. “I understand
she’s been here several times before with Alexander Feldmann.
Let’s just be the three of us.” Looking back, as he
tightened his grip on Mariana’s hand, he saw grief in her
deep, dark eyes.
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