When the Curtain Falls: Saying Goodbye to “Terra Ignota”
On rejection, resilience, Carlyle Foster, and the roles that change us.
Being a voiceover artist takes a lot. You hear “no” so often, you’d think you would get desensitised to it… but you never do. Not really. If you care about what you do, you can’t realistically ever get to the point where “no” doesn’t leave even a little mark. The best I’ve come to is a cynical policy of fire-and-forget: I was asked to audition, I did my job with joy and all my skill, and that’s the last I’ll hear of it. If I ever hear about it again then that’s a different task.
I’ll go weeks, sometimes months, without any work at all. That’s the reality of being in showbiz as an actor. One day you’re flavour-of-the-moment, next you start wondering if you goofed — did you upset someone? Are you blackballed? I’ve had quiet times that have gone on so long, I started quietly questioning whether I was even real. So many messages sent out into the void, and no reply. Those are the times actors turn to their other income streams: sometimes we can teach, as I’ve been fortunate enough to do a little, some of us have other hustles. Mostly we rely on other jobs. I’m fortunate that I don’t need to wait tables, I’m a programmer: twenty years experience, and lucky enough to have an employer in that sphere who’ll look the other way when I need to duck-out for an audition or performance.
Then there are the times when you are very conscious that you are, indeed, real… because there’s no way the reviews could be that cruel to someone who didn’t exist. As a performer, I “go for the jugular” (as my mentor and friend Pat Fraley once charitably described my style) and as a result if someone doesn’t like my performance, they usually really don’t like it.
It’s the reality of making bold choices. There are no small roles, and you’ll starve if you wait to be cast as a lead, but a bold actor can make even a small role memorable.
In no particular order, I’ve been described as unbearable; grating; annoying and talentless. I’ve had reviewers tell me (99% of the time misgendering me) that they’ll never listen to anything I narrate again. That my work is so bad I should get sued by… somebody. Railing at me for them not being able to return their audiobook or whatever. One just described me as “Dylan Mulvaney”, as if her name alone was enough to cover the revulsion they felt.
Check out the written reviews for A Light in the Forest over on Audible.com, which are nearly universally negative.
In mistaking cruelty for wit, I can assume these reviewers don’t care how personal, un-constructive or hurtful they are. Indeed the main focus seems to be protesting that I shouldn’t get any work again. So how do you, or indeed I, find the heart to keep on?
I remind myself that the excellent and talented author, Melissa Payne, liked what I did. In fact, most of the creatively-phrased insults aimed at me are from storytelling choices that she wanted me to take. It’s her book and it should sound exactly like she wants it to. The most common complaint was that my giving characters Appalachian-American English dialects made them sound like “hicks”, or something out of the Andy Griffith Show. Next most-common were complaints that “no-one in Ohio sounds like that”. Well, it’s Melissa’s book and, in her small town in Ohio in the Appalachians, they do sound like that.
I remind myself that before recording, I sought out professional coaching from the superbly talented dialect coach Bridgett Jackson to nail the Appalachian sound.
Also, the editors, engineers and publishers liked it.
In fact, there’s a five minute preview free to listen to on Audible… did these people listen to it?
Of course, the elephant hiding under the coffee table is that A Light in the Forest deals explicitly with trans issues in small-town America… and that, more than anything, seemed to upset a certain type of listener. Even though it’s not a story about trans-ness and only one supporting character is trans, reviewers felt that was the woke agenda being foisted on them by me. Or that rural Americans were being demonised, when most of the characters are actually quite supportive.
It ain’t easy being an actor. The praise doesn’t come often enough, the criticism comes too much and, if you’re not careful, you can wind up meshing your ego to either or both of them. Don’t let the good reviews go to your head, and don’t let the negative reviews go to your heart.
What you need is a kernel — a core that, no matter what someone outside says, cannot be broken. You need a reason to keep hearing “no”. A reason to put up with the droughts of work. A reason to put yourself out there in a creative, vulnerable way even when it gets you mauled.
My reason, my kernel, is that as a child my father isolated me and controlled me. There were times it was just me by myself, alone at home. My mother had to escape my father, and so she left when I was very small. He was too dangerous and abusive, you see. She even took the family dog, Sidney, to keep him safe from such a bad man. She took the dog, and she left me.
Isolated. Often alone. Often kept out of school.
I coped by getting lost in cartoons. They made the house feel like it wasn’t empty, and like maybe there were people around even if there weren’t. Like maybe I had friends.
I once thanked Pat for keeping me safe from “Tex Hex”, the nightmarish villain of Bravestarr, in which Pat played the titular hero. The truth is, all those years ago, he was being my friend. Just like Peter Cullen. Tress MacNeille. Tara Strong. Frank Welker. June Foray. Mel Blanc.
Those actors made me feel like I had something, someone. That I wasn’t just a very different, abused little queer kid alone, at home, warming up a tin of baked beans on the hob.
And I have sworn to myself that I will do the same for some other unhappy little queer kid. I will pay it forward. I’ll be their friend when they feel friendless. I’ll do for them what those actors did for me.
There is no negative feedback I can get that will ever touch that motivation.
I’ve been performing for a few years, and I’ve been a bunch of things in that time. A scarecrow in Dee and Friends in Oz. ADR in anime. Last week, I was some beavers in a computer game. Last year I was several characters in the successful Black Myth Wukong. I’ve been in World of Warcraft. I’ve narrated for the acclaimed sci-fi author John Scalzi. A couple of my earliest works are actually amongst my favourites: the audiobooks The Pips of Paradise by New York-based screenwriter Michael Ciminera and The Book of Lucifer by Christopher C. Starr.
So far, though, nothing has come closer to my goal of being there for someone than being allowed to perform in the Terra Ignota series, by Ada Palmer.
One of my most long-running collaborations is with the Maryland-based audiodrama producer Graphic Audio. I reached out to them in the post, then on LinkedIn, and then they invited me to audition. The audition was about an hour, and I did my thing. I was sweet, funny, quick-witted, and I did the bonkers stuff with my voice that I do. I did animals and creatures. I bounced around dialects from the UK and USA, and from man to woman, old to young. They liked me well enough, and Graphic Audio started to cast me in a few things — rarely as a lead, but often as something fun and weird, even if it was only a few lines.
Roll-on to now, and I’ve shown up in over 200 audiodramas with them. I learnt they have a nickname for me there. The directors call me Mary Poppins… “practically perfect in every way”, and I’ve never been more proud, or blushed more, than when I heard that. It moved me to tears, in fact.
Four years ago, when I was still new and untested, Graphic Audio director Alejandro Ruiz cast me in their new sci-fi adaptation: Too Like the Lightning. I recorded a sample that was sent to Ada Palmer for approval. Apparently, the character they wanted me to play was quite a fan-favourite. Ada approved, and reached out to me directly with all four books in the Terra Ignota series so I could understand the story and what would happen to Carlyle Foster.
The first recording session, I wrapped myself up in at least three scarfs — putting myself in the place of the character, who wore a scarf denoting them as a ‘sensayer’. I’d read the books and studied the script for Too Like the Lightning, Part 1 and took a few minutes to get into character. Carlyle was tall, blond, gaunt and very gentle — ostensibly working as a counsellor — one character in a large cast set in the far future. Their world hadn’t solved any of the problems we have today of religious intolerance, sexism or restrictive gender-roles; instead they had just outlawed public expression of those concepts. Carlyle’s job, or at least their cover-story, was to provide a private religious counselling session to anyone who needed it.
By the end of the fourth instalment, Seven Surrenders, Part 2, Carlyle was now described with female pronouns and treated as a trans woman. That journey is partly why she was important to fans of the books. We sadly lost Alejandro as our director, the fallout of a contretemps between them and the author of another series Graphic Audio was adapting. Terra Ignota went on hiatus and I couldn’t get a definitive answer when or if it would return.
I was very pleased and proud that my performance as Carlyle seemed to mean something to a few people. That they liked me — as her — and that she was able to touch them emotionally. The Terra Ignota community has a lot of trans, gender non-conforming and gender-questioning members… and I feel like I was able to be a little bit of joy for them. They could, in Carlyle, see a potential avatar for themselves: one of the main characters, being herself and trying to make things better in a world falling into war.
Last year, Christopher Walker picked up the baton to finish Terra Ignota at Graphic Audio. Today, I got the last script through: Perhaps the Stars, Part 3. Carlyle only has about ten lines — she had more to do in Part 2 — but this is now the end. It took four years, but we’re here.
In a ridiculous, actor-ish, luvvie way… it breaks my heart. I put more of myself into Carlyle than most any other character I’ve played, and she — more than any other character I’ve played — meant something to people. I don’t want to exaggerate the role: she’s one character amongst many in an audiodrama. But I am very, very proud to have been her for a little while.
Perhaps I’ll be lucky and privileged enough to get my name up there with Pat, Peter, Frank and the others in voiceover history. The odds are ‘probably not’… but I will try my damnedest until the end. It’s as much about luck and timing than it is anything else. But, wherever I end up, I will always be grateful to Alejandro, Christopher, the wonderful talent at GA, Ada and the Terra Ignota community for having me. It means the world to me. And I’ll always be grateful to Carlyle Foster, too. She helped me actually do a little bit of what I am so driven to do.
Ten lines. Then probably a little cry.
Thanks for reading — if you want more, I write about acting, queer stuff, body-positivity and politics from a Liberal/Left, anti-Capitalist perspective.
Alternatively, go check out the great stuff Graphic Audio do, Melissa Payne’s books, Ada Palmer’s work and the very impressive stuff Alejandro is doing in Hollywood! They’re, all of them, treasures. Or, if you’re interested in my acting work, most of it is listed on my website at kayeluvian.com.
