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Project Main Details
Poker Audiobook Novel
LTK14405462119X
I need my novel read as an audiobook. The book has many poker terms and situations and an understanding of the game would be really helpful. The only effects I think I need is some crowd and chip sounds to indicate to the reader the scene is switching to the poker tournament which is interspersed throughout the book. A slight scandinavian accent would be good to have. The book is about 70,000 words.
Apr 20, 2008 13:26:04 (GMT -05:00) Eastern Time (US & Canada)
Jul 31, 2008 08:00:00 (GMT -05:00) Eastern Time (US & Canada)
Yes (click here to learn more about 
)
Closed
18
18
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 50 auditions and/or proposals for this project (approx.) Invitations sent by SmartCast have resulted in 18 audition(s) and/or proposal(s) so far.
)
Closed
18
18
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 50 auditions and/or proposals for this project (approx.) Invitations sent by SmartCast have resulted in 18 audition(s) and/or proposal(s) so far.
Project Parameters
None
Flexible - USD 600
Not defined
Not defined
English - ANY
slight Scandanavian accent on spoken English
Middle Age Male AND Senior Male
• Audio files must be delivered via email
• Deliver edited and finished voice tracks AND
• Add special effects
The talent or voice producer should have at least 5 years of experience in the voice industry.
This is a non-union project
• Add special effects
Script Details
Yes
We’d been maneuvering very carefully for the first several hours of heads-up play. I had $555,000 in tournament chips, and Bjorn had $645,000. The blinds were $10,000/$20,000 with a $1,000 ante. I was on the small blind and first to act.
I pulled my cards forward, looked at them one more time, and then calmly placed them on the glass plate for the camera to record. I stared at Bjorn. He looked stern and statuesque—motionless. The young man was an automaton. He was also confident, aggressive, and anxious for action. I had to decide: Did I want him to play and risk a flop? Or should I take the more prudent course of raising hard preflop and try to force him off his hand right now? Most likely, I’d take the $32,000 pot without a single card exposed. I decided I wanted to go for a big win. I wanted him to play. I couldn’t just check, however. I had to make him pay something. A nice enticing bet.
I tried to show the slightest hesitation as I reached for my chips.
“Raise,” I announced. The small crowd moved forward in their seats. I completed the required bet by putting out another $10,000. I looked at the Swede. Bjorn hadn’t budged a muscle. His sunglasses reflected the colorful, giant scoreboard overhead.
Another forty thousand would be the traditional professional raise. Tripling the big blind would make the bet large enough to force weak opponents to fold, but not large enough to scare away a high percentage of marginal hands. It also was the perfect disguise for concealing the strength of one’s hand. If I raised more than forty thousand, I’d be saying, “Do not call. I have something like ace, queen or pocket sevens, and I don’t want to risk a flop.” If I raised less, I wanted callers to play against my big hand. But at this level, those tendencies were all common knowledge, and we often played counter to the classic plays.
“Sixty-seven thousand to go.” I shoved twenty-seven orange $1,000 chips and four gray $5,000 chips forward, just beyond my cards, and stared at the small Swedish flag on Bjorn’s left lapel.
The blond Swede stared at me for five seconds, then pulled his cards toward his chip stack. He shuffled the cards a few times, placed an orange chip on top of them, and leaned back in his chair. After staring me down for a few more seconds, he pinched the upper right corner of his cards and bent them back slowly. Methodically, he squeezed the cards apart as he hunched over. He froze for a moment, then sat up and slowly slid the cards over the glass as if to say, “Look at this, world, I have a monster.” Which, to me, meant he didn’t.
But I had to admit, for a young kid, Bjorn had a great routine. It hardly ever changed. His outward mannerisms gave absolutely no obvious hints as to what his hand might be. Like a professional golfer before each swing, he went through the same series of movements every time. He took five white chips from one stack and five green ones from another and shuffled them in his right hand, staring at me the entire time. I continued to stare at his lapel.
“I reraise.” His staccato voice was heavily accented and sharp. I felt a wave of concern as he grabbed two nearly full stacks of green chips. He pulled back his large blind bet. He carefully measured out two stacks of sixteen gray chips each, then grabbed them with both hands and pounded them onto the felt in front of him. “Make it one hundred sixty thousand straight.”
Bjorn had built a solid, aggressive image throughout this tournament. My immediate read was that he was posturing and had nothing—maybe a little more than nothing. The probabilities and my gut told me I had the best hand. I had to decide whether to smooth call and turn Bjorn’s aggression into my weapon or go all in right then and there, thus avoiding the risk of seeing a flop. The pot was quite large at this point. Sample for audition: We’d been maneuvering very carefully for the first several hours of heads-up play. I had $555,000 in tournament chips, and Bjorn had $645,000. The blinds were $10,000/$20,000 with a $1,000 ante. I was on the small blind and first to act.
I pulled my cards forward, looked at them one more time, and then calmly placed them on the glass plate for the camera to record. I stared at Bjorn. He looked stern and statuesque—motionless. The young man was an automaton. He was also confident, aggressive, and anxious for action. I had to decide: Did I want him to play and risk a flop? Or should I take the more prudent course of raising hard preflop and try to force him off his hand right now? Most likely, I’d take the $32,000 pot without a single card exposed. I decided I wanted to go for a big win. I wanted him to play. I couldn’t just check, however. I had to make him pay something. A nice enticing bet.
I tried to show the slightest hesitation as I reached for my chips.
“Raise,” I announced. The small crowd moved forward in their seats. I completed the required bet by putting out another $10,000. I looked at the Swede. Bjorn hadn’t budged a muscle. His sunglasses reflected the colorful, giant scoreboard overhead.
Another forty thousand would be the traditional professional raise. Tripling the big blind would make the bet large enough to force weak opponents to fold, but not large enough to scare away a high percentage of marginal hands. It also was the perfect disguise for concealing the strength of one’s hand. If I raised more than forty thousand, I’d be saying, “Do not call. I have something like ace, queen or pocket sevens, and I don’t want to risk a flop.” If I raised less, I wanted callers to play against my big hand. But at this level, those tendencies were all common knowledge, and we often played counter to the classic plays.
“Sixty-seven thousand to go.” I shoved twenty-seven orange $1,000 chips and four gray $5,000 chips forward, just beyond my cards, and stared at the small Swedish flag on Bjorn’s left lapel.
I pulled my cards forward, looked at them one more time, and then calmly placed them on the glass plate for the camera to record. I stared at Bjorn. He looked stern and statuesque—motionless. The young man was an automaton. He was also confident, aggressive, and anxious for action. I had to decide: Did I want him to play and risk a flop? Or should I take the more prudent course of raising hard preflop and try to force him off his hand right now? Most likely, I’d take the $32,000 pot without a single card exposed. I decided I wanted to go for a big win. I wanted him to play. I couldn’t just check, however. I had to make him pay something. A nice enticing bet.
I tried to show the slightest hesitation as I reached for my chips.
“Raise,” I announced. The small crowd moved forward in their seats. I completed the required bet by putting out another $10,000. I looked at the Swede. Bjorn hadn’t budged a muscle. His sunglasses reflected the colorful, giant scoreboard overhead.
Another forty thousand would be the traditional professional raise. Tripling the big blind would make the bet large enough to force weak opponents to fold, but not large enough to scare away a high percentage of marginal hands. It also was the perfect disguise for concealing the strength of one’s hand. If I raised more than forty thousand, I’d be saying, “Do not call. I have something like ace, queen or pocket sevens, and I don’t want to risk a flop.” If I raised less, I wanted callers to play against my big hand. But at this level, those tendencies were all common knowledge, and we often played counter to the classic plays.
“Sixty-seven thousand to go.” I shoved twenty-seven orange $1,000 chips and four gray $5,000 chips forward, just beyond my cards, and stared at the small Swedish flag on Bjorn’s left lapel.
The blond Swede stared at me for five seconds, then pulled his cards toward his chip stack. He shuffled the cards a few times, placed an orange chip on top of them, and leaned back in his chair. After staring me down for a few more seconds, he pinched the upper right corner of his cards and bent them back slowly. Methodically, he squeezed the cards apart as he hunched over. He froze for a moment, then sat up and slowly slid the cards over the glass as if to say, “Look at this, world, I have a monster.” Which, to me, meant he didn’t.
But I had to admit, for a young kid, Bjorn had a great routine. It hardly ever changed. His outward mannerisms gave absolutely no obvious hints as to what his hand might be. Like a professional golfer before each swing, he went through the same series of movements every time. He took five white chips from one stack and five green ones from another and shuffled them in his right hand, staring at me the entire time. I continued to stare at his lapel.
“I reraise.” His staccato voice was heavily accented and sharp. I felt a wave of concern as he grabbed two nearly full stacks of green chips. He pulled back his large blind bet. He carefully measured out two stacks of sixteen gray chips each, then grabbed them with both hands and pounded them onto the felt in front of him. “Make it one hundred sixty thousand straight.”
Bjorn had built a solid, aggressive image throughout this tournament. My immediate read was that he was posturing and had nothing—maybe a little more than nothing. The probabilities and my gut told me I had the best hand. I had to decide whether to smooth call and turn Bjorn’s aggression into my weapon or go all in right then and there, thus avoiding the risk of seeing a flop. The pot was quite large at this point. Sample for audition: We’d been maneuvering very carefully for the first several hours of heads-up play. I had $555,000 in tournament chips, and Bjorn had $645,000. The blinds were $10,000/$20,000 with a $1,000 ante. I was on the small blind and first to act.
I pulled my cards forward, looked at them one more time, and then calmly placed them on the glass plate for the camera to record. I stared at Bjorn. He looked stern and statuesque—motionless. The young man was an automaton. He was also confident, aggressive, and anxious for action. I had to decide: Did I want him to play and risk a flop? Or should I take the more prudent course of raising hard preflop and try to force him off his hand right now? Most likely, I’d take the $32,000 pot without a single card exposed. I decided I wanted to go for a big win. I wanted him to play. I couldn’t just check, however. I had to make him pay something. A nice enticing bet.
I tried to show the slightest hesitation as I reached for my chips.
“Raise,” I announced. The small crowd moved forward in their seats. I completed the required bet by putting out another $10,000. I looked at the Swede. Bjorn hadn’t budged a muscle. His sunglasses reflected the colorful, giant scoreboard overhead.
Another forty thousand would be the traditional professional raise. Tripling the big blind would make the bet large enough to force weak opponents to fold, but not large enough to scare away a high percentage of marginal hands. It also was the perfect disguise for concealing the strength of one’s hand. If I raised more than forty thousand, I’d be saying, “Do not call. I have something like ace, queen or pocket sevens, and I don’t want to risk a flop.” If I raised less, I wanted callers to play against my big hand. But at this level, those tendencies were all common knowledge, and we often played counter to the classic plays.
“Sixty-seven thousand to go.” I shoved twenty-seven orange $1,000 chips and four gray $5,000 chips forward, just beyond my cards, and stared at the small Swedish flag on Bjorn’s left lapel.
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