How to narrate a book (and, more importantly, why to "narrate a book")

When I graduated college back in the summer of 2016, I had imagined a victorious collapse across an imaginary finish line at a marathon. This isn't because of the fatigue I felt from attending part-time in my 20's and 30's, while juggling the challenges of both life and career. This is because I was told by many others that it was worth the effort, in spite of how difficult it seemed on the surface. To me, the unspoken benefit of a degree isn't simply in framing it and hanging it up for all to see, or for inclusion on a resume or job application. It's how boundless the accomplishment is meant to make you feel.

So now what?

While I attended school, I was focusing my creative efforts toward semester projects, case studies, and business analyses. My desire to be creative outside of this stagnated. I had lots of ideas during that time, sure. But my skills began to diminish and go rusty, as my efforts funneled into the rigid, year-round grind of college. I knew I'd struggle to balance this, even back in the fall of 2007, the first semester I returned to college.

Into The Wild, Jon Krakauer's biography of Christopher McCandless, had been recently adopted into a biographical movie. Eager to tackle a key assignment of my Creative Writing class (at that point, I hadn't selected Marketing as my degree), I decided to combine my experience of reading the book, then watching the movie, in my Arts Review paper. Once I began reading about Chris's life, I couldn't put the book down, finishing it in practically a single sitting. The movie-watching experience soon followed; completely by myself, a late-night showing that placed me right in the middle of the large hundred-seat theater.

So much of Chris's personality stood out to me, and how poignant and true-to-life his story mirrored many of the choices I had made in my life to that point. I left the cinema inspired to write, drawing parallels to my own life experience. While I knew I wasn't planning to drop out of society in pursuit of loftier philosophical goals, the mission I had set myself on, staying committed to my goals, seemed to match with Chris. And throughout my journey to finish school, I would do my best to embrace my creativity-beginning with this essay.

In spite of this, I still struggled with my creativity for years. Initially, I chalked it up to my focus on completing school and work projects, drawn to analytics and reporting. In retrospect, I was quite creative with semester projects and group presentations, finding ways to make it unique to me while meeting the expectations of teachers and fellow classmates. After I while, though, I realized I had more than a passing interest in promotions and sales.

I began a freelance marketing job in my spare time for a sports card company, creating promotions and leading my own webcasts. For more than two years, I managed my own inventory of products, created advertisements and web videos, and handled customer service inquiries, shipping, and even cost-benefit analysis. Suddenly, the dam to my creative talents had burst open. I drew inspiration from the customers, the products, and the stories that unfolded, which fueled my creativity for the businesses' benefit.

I stayed grounded in my comfort zone. In spite of music being a constant source of creativity in my life, I still avoided singing, writing lyrics, or playing many of the instruments I collected over the years, even after my graduation in the summer of 2016. My recording equipment continued to shuffle around the house, but I wasn't compelled to play or practice. Relocating to Maryland last year was my opportunity to pare down many of the things that I knew I couldn't continue to make time for. And decluttering before a cross-country move was absolutely necessary. But I didn't pack my boxes with disdain or sour feelings over letting some of the underutilized stuff go.

After things settled down and I eased into a routine with my new career path (one that presented its' own set of opportunities), I began to long once more for creativity, and looked for inspiration in familiar places. I set up a "music corner", with my record player, synthesizer, guitars, and music production setup, all powered instantly with the flip of a surge protector switch. I took additional time to dive deeper into the technical aspects of the production software I have used for the past fifteen years, learning advanced steps to improve the audio quality of my existing music, and saving many of the techniques for other people's productions. I started thinking outside of the box, choosing an empty corner of my apartment and drawing up plans, then building, a portable vocal booth suitable for recording singers and narration.

And then, this spring, the idea of actually recording something myself entered my head.

Creativity is a game of confidence for many. It is less reliant on whether your output has a payoff. What should matter is the journey-the effort itself, the steps taken and the lessons learned. Even in those uncertain terms, what drives someone to be creative is fueled internally by confidence-the confidence in yourself to make it right, the confidence of others (friends, family, supporters, co-workers) through encouragement and positivity, and the confidence gained as you see the successes slowly come into focus.

My father never boasted to excess about his creative endeavors during our childhood. I can remember many years of Scouting Day Camps filled with ambitious craft projects, like building cardboard castles and Space Shuttle wooden carvings. I also have fond memories of early weekend plumbing repairs on the rent house, engine work on our pickup/camper, and even shingle and siding replacements for the childhood home. Much like my music equipment floated around my house, our family garage was a constant nesting place of power tools, fasteners, and projects-in-progress. Looking back at his life, my aunt and uncles were probably highly influential of (and mutually influenced by) my dad's undying desire to tinker. And a good portion of my own creative restlessness is because of him.

When I set out on my own creative path twenty years ago, I realized early on that as much as I needed to be independent, I liked the encouragement of sharing what I made with the people I loved. I knew within a couple of years that my goal would never be financial success or fame. I simply sought honesty in the art, and always aimed for something that sounded good to me.

I knew at this point in my life that continuing to create music in a bubble wouldn't be as fulfilling as aiming for a larger audience. Without the years of practice, or the discipline to learn how to read music traditionally, the odds of me finding a musical project that was mutually beneficial were scant. I did still have many years of experience producing, editing, and engineering my own music and podcasts. And I also still had my own recording equipment. Lastly, many different business partners and friends praised my ability to clearly communicate, lead meetings, and also organize and condense clear messages. I wondered if I could command that focus if the story was longer.

So after twenty years, I took a leap of faith on a challenge I had never expected: narrating and editing an audiobook from start to finish.

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Because I was doing the work myself, I searched for a suitable book and also submitted auditions through ACX (Audiobook Creation Exchange), which supports independent and freelance authors via CreateSpace and Amazon. Rather than simply audition for everything I thought I was suited for, I chose the titles carefully. And it wasn't long before an author, Carolyn Astfalk, contacted me and asked me to record a "test chapter" to see if I was a good fit.

The first chapter of her book, Rightfully Ours, was a challenge for me to narrate. I hadn't considered how character voices and development needed to be properly established, and also faltered a bit on basics like pronunciation and establishing proper silence between breaths. However, she definitely provided me the earliest encouragement and gave me effective feedback, extending the offer to complete the narration.

In time, many of the challenges that presented themselves (such as consistent recording tone, time-consuming editing, and varied post-production techniques) were quickly remedied. I learned to trust myself and give as much time as it took to get it done properly. I struggled somewhat when I realized I couldn't keep up with the high-volume pace I initially laid out. But I self-corrected this, keeping in close communication with the author. In essence, I was a project manager for this 9-hour audiobook endeavor, managing expectations and ensuring deliverables were up to the highest standards I could deliver.

This nine-hour audiobook was recorded in 30 different chapter-length sessions totaling nearly twenty hours. Post-production totaled about 100 working hours spread over the course of nearly five months. Editing each finished minute of audio took anywhere from 3 to 5 minutes of post-production. Re-recording and re-editing sessions were completed once I listened to the entire book during my cross-country trip over Memorial Day Weekend, 2018. The first chapter, as it turned out, sounded so drastically different than the rest of the narration that I had to re-record the character voices.

But it was in revisiting that first chapter I had recorded so many months ago that the experience became poetic, and somewhat cyclical. It ultimately wouldn't have meant much if I just gave up, or chose not to give it my full effort, to make something that has lasting ability. This is the underlying thread of the work I did to finish, to make it right. Not just for myself or for the author, but for the person who will eventually listen to it someday. For me, it is making the "body" in the "body of work" whole. It's the ultimate thought that there is no such thing as hollow art.

I can't give specific advice on how exactly I was able to accomplish this unforeseen goal of mine to narrate a book. Now that it's been released, I am more than eager to take on the next big thing. And maybe that's a better approach to life's ambitions-to trust that how it all happens will become clearer with patience and dedication. And also-to never lose sight of why you do it.

For family. For encouragement. For love. For the challenge. For you.