A few weeks ago, I was involved in a fascinating discussion about corrections and preparation in audiobook narration. Some excellent colleagues of mine didn’t entirely agree with my point of view over the role of the proofer. Some of my colleagues expressed a dislike of overly detailed prep, preferring instead to focus on their sight-reading virtuosity and a meticulous 1st Pass Edit before sending their work to a proofer. For me, this doesn’t work.
Studio Cat’s predecessor was a loner. She’d had a tough upbringing on the street and had learned not to trust anyone. When we rescued her, it took her a very long time to trust us. Eventually she became an affectionate companion, but she never, ever lost her intense dislike and mistrust of other cats.
I’ve been playing video games for 35 years. I started on the Atari Star Wars Cabinet on Brighton Seafront in 1984. Five years later I spent Christmas morning setting up my brand-new Commodore 64. Since then I’ve ridden the curve through every subsequent generation: Amiga, N64, PlayStation 2, Xbox 360, Switch.
I am sitting in a sushi bar in Kings Cross watching the world continue without me for a few minutes. I try to eat my maki rolls but it hurts to swallow. I thought Sushi was a safe option for my burning larynx. But even soft rice and fish goes down like I’m swallowing barbed wire. It crosses my mind that my larynx might be bleeding. What the hell happened to me?
I was talking to one of my favourite proofers the other day. She was marvelling at how a narrator whose work she had recently been proofing had required only one correction. For anyone who doesn’t understand the parlance, correction in audiobooks refers to a mispronounced word, extraneous noise or inconsistent character voice that has been picked up on by the audiobook proofer.