When I was in college, swing dancing was very popular. Before I started getting cast in plays, I devoted almost two years to learning East Coast Swing, West Coast Swing, Lindy Hop, and aerials.
My friends and I would go swing dancing every Thursday night at this place called the Wabasha Caves, which was a 1920s speakeasy built into the caves at the base of a cliff in St. Paul, Minnesota. It’s a pretty amazing venue.
At the time, the place was packed to the gills every week with people from their early teens to their 80s, ripping up the dance floor to a live big band (Yes, a FULL big band).
Most of the time, I contented myself with dancing with my good friend Hal (an incredible dancer well into his 80s), whatever college friends we’d bring, or whoever would ask me to dance.
A clique of swing dancers who called themselves the “Caves Cats,” arrived every week wearing 1940s clothes. They were the best dancers in the place, and everyone aspired to dance like them. They didn’t just do the moves—they had STYLE. They were serious about being good at what they did, and about looking good doing it.
I wanted to break into that group so badly, but most of the core group either had a set dance partner, or would dance almost exclusively with people from within the group. Over time, I eventually got to dance with some of them, and they were all really good dancers—But never with Mike. Mike only danced with his regular partner.
Until one night, Mike’s regular dance partner was out sick, and I finally got the chance to dance with him.
HE WAS TERRIBLE!
Turns out, he looked great when he was dancing with his regular partner and doing the moves they’d done a million times. But dancing with someone new, he had no idea whatsoever how to lead.
Someone who can lead will make you look like a million bucks. (Or at least better than a dirty crinkled one dollar note that you pulled out of the bottom of your purse.) A good lead communicates well with their body in a way that is easy to understand, and you don’t even need to speak the language to get it.
Mike only danced with one person, so he only knew how to communicate with that one person. Outside that partnership, he was average.
So, what does this have to do with voiceover?
The reason that voiceover is difficult, and that it’s “not just reading,” is this:
Every script, every niche is like a different dance partner. Dance only with one partner, and you’re only going to look brilliant with that partner.
If you’ve only practiced “conversational announcer,” then you’re not prepared to take on the other 70% of reads out there. And like Mike, you’re going to look (sound) pretty clumsy when you try.
You might sound really great in that friendly announcer read, but then someone hands you a corporate anthem, an authoritative read, a super intimate national branded spot, or an energetic retail script, and you don’t know what to do with it!
So you read it in that same friendly conversational announcer style and wonder why you’re not booking.
You need to learn how to truly communicate with your scripts. Not just how to read them…but how to “lead” them.
Knowing how to read the words in a pleasant voice without stumbling on them is like knowing the basic six step swing. You’ve got the steps down, but that doesn’t make you a brilliant dancer.
What happens when the tempo changes, or the time signature shifts? Can you dance to “In the Mood” as well as you can dance to “Minnie the Moocher” or “Moonlight Serenade?”
To deliver brilliant voiceover every time, you need to be able to pick up cues from the spec and delivery notes, from the text, and from the storyboard, if there is one.
You need to learn to lead.
The more you do this, the more versatile…and bookable…you will be.
Ciao!
BIllie Jo
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