Voice

Voice (vois) –

Noun

1. The sound produced in a person’s larynx and uttered through the mouth, as speech or song.

2. A particular opinion or attitude expressed.

Verb

1. To express something in words.

2. Utter a speech sound with resonance of the vocal cords.

Well, well, well. I have to tell you, I have NOUNed and VERBed with my voice from the moment I drew my first breath and wailed out loud. As a kid nearly every single report card had some variation of “Bright kid, talks too much.” Whatever. I was delivered into a family situation that had some mighty serious issues that required major speech, attitude and expression. Lucky me, I was equipped with all three and was pretty stinkin’ determined to use them.

At nine years old my two favorite voices were Rich Little and Helen Reddy (Yes, I’m old – Google them if you must. I’ll wait).

The way Rich Little, nicknamed the Man of a Thousand Voices, could bend and contort his mouth, tongue and larynx (and whole face, truth be told) into Jimmy Stewart, Johnny Carson, George Burns and more – was legendary. Despite some heavy ridicule from my 4th grade classmates, I waded into the water of voice characterization and never looked back. As a result, I’m a wicked mimic and have used at least a hundred (What? I’m young, I’m working my way to 1,000 by age 100) in various realms: voice-over, audiobooks, stage and screen. To be honest, I’ve used a number of character voices in everyday life to talk my way out of moving violations and sticky situations. One example? When I worked in animation (thanks World Events and Zodiac), I used a different voice for every single actor or writer I spoke to on the phone, because our executive producer used to throw their reels and resumes in the trash, with no intention of ever hiring them. In order to not break their hearts/spirits and to also prevent my boss from looking like a royal a**hole, I’d have the receptionist announce their calls so I could choose a character and dialect in order to speak to them. I’d write all of the info. down, so that the second or third time they’d call to follow-up, I could tell them that Mariana or Ingrid or Siobahn must have spoken to them and that she had been unceremoniously… fired. It was also very likely that she took their reels and resumes with her. Peter E. Keefe, you’re welcome.

Helen Reddy became the vocalist I most aspired to be. While I did, and continue to, worship at the alters of Judy Garland and Ella Fitzgerald, Helen sang about strong women with a strong and velvety voice. Hers was also the type of voice I heard on my grandpa’s cast recordings of Broadway musicals. Again, to the chagrin of my elementary school friends, I opened my mouth and sang like a 40 year old woman in a not-yet ten year old’s shoes. And pulled it off. For the next two decades, from county fairs to country bars and recording studios (as a session singer) – I would roll in with an ultimately classically trained voice (thank you Seth Riggs and Dr. Joel Ewing) and sing any style with a powerful four octave range. Singing alongside Sue Raney and David Morse (thanks Ed Yellin) on a commercial or on a project for Steve Binder, the man known for Hullabaloo (thank you, dear Joe Curiale) was heavenly and nerve-wrackingly hellacious. [I felt very small standing next to those angelic voices and healthy egos. I was waaay more comfortable on theatrical stages doing musical theatre, where I got to sing as Velma Von Tussle in Hairspray, Pennywise in Urinetown, Miss Hannigan in Annie and in some other great shows, too. I’m now waiting for theatres to open up again, because I harbor a not-so-secret desire to embody Mrs. Lovett in Sweeney Todd.

For a handful of years, I was fortunate enough to sit in a roll-y chair behind a radio microphone (thank you Carl and Jeri) talking into the airwaves in few different roles: Friday Matinee, where morning show host George Cummings and I took the listener behind the scenes of arts and entertainment. Afternoon T. where I conducted interviews, did traffic on the 8’s, read ads and played music. Doctor Procter, a show that peeked over the shoulders of the medical community breaking big concepts down to digestible pieces. I loved radio. I’d still be there, but the roll-y chair and I both broke around the same time.

The last decade for me has been about voices on-screen. Not just my babbling as a screenwriter or actress (which I’ve done a lot of) but more importantly… the voices of others. Working with my partners (thank you Rookie and Cameron), independent production has provided the opportunity to amplify the stories of everyone we meet, regardless of age, gender, race or belief. In a world where I’m embarrassed to see that some folks seem to be choking a bit on that concept*, it means EVERYthing to me to provide the chorus to the critical solos that must be heard. Our team at Tequila Mockingbird is dedicated to helping others bring their stories to the world. At the top of the list right now is Driven, the feature documentary about the life of Tony Pearson and This Sucks, a dark comedy film that addresses mental health and social sickness. Both have messages for a world that desperately needs to hear them.

So, my plan for the next handful of decades is to continue to NOUN and VERB and help others do the same. It is totally okay if my metaphorical Yelp review says something akin to my early report cards, especially if the important speeches, appropriate attitudes and passionate expressions come through. I just hope audiences will listen. There are NOUNS and VERBS for that, too.

LISTEN (li-sin) –

VERBS

1. To pay attention to sound.

2. To hear something with thoughtful attention: give consideration.

Thanks, Merriam-Webster.

*Seriously? Kids younger than 10 have a better grip on this. To quote South Pacific, “You have to be carefully taught...” The greatest teacher of all tried to bottom line it for us: “Love EVERYbody.” Just start there, people.