Tuesday, August 26, 2014

Hello, I'm Paul Carter. Welcome to my world of Voice Over...

Life changes.

Things come and go and then come around again. We ride the waves of our lives like a professional surfer catching a tunnel.

Ha! More likely we are lucky to have a paddle board and a life preserver that works JUST well enough to keep us from drowning. But somehow we keep moving on!

As you all know I am a writer and a musician. As I writer I have been in the trenches for almost 10 years now. As a musician I have been slugging it out for over 30 YEARS!

Yes kids... this is how we used to record audio
Over the course of those 30 years I have played and performed with MANY bands and acts in bars and clubs and yes even in church. I have been blessed with having numerous opportunities to record in some of the BEST recording studios in the Kansas City area. For over 20 years now I have owned and operated my own personal recording studio in various forms and fashions. Technological capabilities have evolved so much over those years it would make your head spin. My personal equipment has undergone transformation from a Tascam 4-track that reorded on cassettes (remember those??) WAY back in the 1980's... to a Roland CDX-1 in the 1990's that recorded on CD-RW (that was weird)... to ADAT 8-tracks that recorded on VHS style tape (WTF???!!!) and now to computer based DAW's such as Sonar and Logic and Garageband. Baby we have come a LONG way!

And I have LOVED every minute of it!

And the times they are a-changing!

The next step in my artistic growth is Voice Over Talent. This is a step that in retrospect seems like a NO BRAINER. I mean, I have ALL the equipment, I have excellent recording skills, and I have performance skills from playing live and acting as frontman for nearly every band I have ever played in! And (now don't think me too old) but I have had more voice over training and experience over those years than even I remembered or imagined. To wit, the year I graduated high school (due to security and to retain as much dignity as possible I will not be specific which year - but it was sometime in the 1980's) I recorded voice over with my drama teacher and local Kansas City actor extraordinaire Ray Ettinger. So you might say I have at least a little bit of a pedigree!

So, over the coming months and years you will be delighted (or bored) with all the details that I choose to regale you with about my journey through the World Of Voice Over!

Hope you enjoy!

Oh and go check out my new page at www.impaulcarter.com

Thursday, April 17, 2014

Another story idea...

Man, one of these days I have GOT to finish up some of these shorts I have been writing.

But, until that day... please enjoy another submission in what I am beginning to think of in terms of a name as:

Paul Philip Carter's Drifting Ideas of Mayhem and Chaos.

Ok, maybe that's not REALLY what I will name it... keep thinking, keep thinking...

Anyway, here is a short prelude for a story I will call... hmm... what to call it... how about THE TAMING OF RAY LAZARUS.

There was a man, beaten down by life, full of despair and confusion.
He had lost his wife, his child, his entire life due to his missteps.
For his crimes, he was sentenced to live a life secluded from what he loved.
But his accusers were not the courts, not the judges and lawyers that we all know.
His jailer was the Dark One.

What if you had the chance to live again after death, but you find that the new life you’ve been given is actually Hell?

Ray Lazarus hated work.
Ray Lazarus despised anything that got in the way of his one true love: him.
Anything Ray wanted, whatever he decided was the thing for him to do or to think or a place to be, that was what Ray would do.
It was then a bit of a dilemma when, one day, Ray decided to fall in love.
The day he met his future wife, Ms. Vera Turner, Ray was only interested in getting in her pants. Unfortunately for Ray, sex with Vera turned into a minor obsession. He couldn’t get enough. Everyday, sex with Vera was the first thing he thought about, and therefore that was the thing Ray would do.
Two years later, Ray found himself married to Vera.
Then, they had a child.
That lone voice inside Ray’s head that told him what to do and what to want and where to be… that voice was still there, but it was suddenly (at least it seemed suddenly to Ray) silenced! One day Ray woke up and realized that HE was no longer the decider of his fate! HE was no longer in control of his decisions! HE was no longer the MASTER of his DESTINY!
Ray felt cheated.
Ray hated that.
The only thing in the world that Ray hated worse than work was to feel like he had been denied anything. Who else was there in the world that could decide what was right and best for him? Nobody at all, buddy boy, I am here to tell ya!
So, one day, even though he loved his family dearly (and really loved still getting into Vera’s pants,) Ray decided to do something altogether of his own volition, do something he wanted to do and only because he wanted to do it.
Ray went GAMBLING.
Now, a few years later, and in a weird way if he really thought about it at all, Ray realized that was the last day he ever did anything just because he wanted to do it.
After that day, everything changed.

Because that was the day Ray Lazarus died.

Saturday, March 22, 2014

A paranormal idea that came to me...

This one was tinged red.

It had wings, too, big, dark, hairy wings. When it flapped them my way in a manner meant to scare me off, I could smell them. Like the rotting husk of a week old leftover Chinese food take-home box with half the General Tso’s chicken still inside.

I sighed, and looked back to make sure Seamus was still with me. He was. Of that, I had no need to worry.

I fumbled with the slow moving door exiting the grocery, not really in a hurry, but not liking the delay, and glanced around for a good spot. There wasn’t one, so I took the nearest blank spot in the parking lot that was mostly clean of oil drippings and spit out chewing gum and loogies, then I knelt. Curled down over my knees, face to the asphalt, arms in front with hands palm up as if waiting in supplication for the occult priestess to place the dagger through my back between my ribs and into my heart, I closed my eyes and waited.

Seamus guarded me, I had to trust in that.

I didn’t have to wait long.

The attack came from the left, like a feint at first, or more like a novice grasshopper in training wishing to best his sensei.

But I didn’t take the bait. I waited. This was how most of the ravers liked to attack. They played with their food before they ate it.

The raver lunged at me, twin barbed lance thrusting forward, a move meant to take me off balance and open to a back thrust that would have ripped out my spleen. It missed.
A few more moves, each faster, each intended to bring me out of my defense and attempt an attack on the raver that would of course fail.

I waited.

Then, when the raver got bored, when he was done whirling his peas around in his potatoes hoping to make a tasteless mash that could be swallowed whole to avoid the individual tastes, he pounced.

His jaws opened wide, lance pulled back and forgotten, the look of triumph etched in the stretch of his lips and the gleam in his red rimmed eyes, he came at me with the sureness my head would soon be in his belly.

That’s when I attacked.

Not to boast, but my skills are prodigious. I moved like the whirling of the wind in a tornado in Missouri, striking the ravers knee, achilles, the arteries at his hips and the bulge in his crotch, all within the span of a breath.

He fell with his mouth open right at the spot I had been just a heartbeat ago, missing the meal he had hoped for.

I took a deep breath, and then opened my eyes.

Still kneeling in the empty parking spot just outside the grocery store with Seamus at my back, watching.

A car honked.

“Hey! Can you get the hell outta my way? The sign says ‘for expectant mothers’.”

The fat, greasy woman in the four-door station wagon was not pregnant.

Seamus and I moved to the side to let her pull the car in, and though her stomach protruded well below her waist line, there was not a baby inside.

Trust me. I can tell these things.

“Stupid freaking goth kids always looking for a handout. Well I don’t have anything for you!”

The woman mumbled her way into the store stealing glances over her shoulder to make sure we didn’t follow and clicking the remote door lock in way that said she definitely didn’t trust that we were so close to her car. She grabbed a young kid, a worker who was only trying to go get the abandoned carts in the parking lot, and unloaded on him while pointing our way with angry jabs.

Seamus and I glanced at each other. There was a slight curl of his lips, the only hint that he had even paid any attention to the exchange. With a nod, we agreed without speaking that it was time for us to go.

Our work here was done.

Wednesday, March 19, 2014

Robot writers

Consider this:

Robot writes LA Times earthquake breaking news article

I don't know, something about this just creeps me out. As a writer I definitely do not like to see ANY content auto-generated by a computer. Competition is bad enough as it is.

Sigh... oh well...

Tuesday, January 14, 2014


Knowing the future can kill you now.

I should know. See, I have a talent. I can predict the outcome of certain events… not all, but some. Usually the event has to be a large gathering, at least a thousand people or more.

I can sense it, sometimes way in advance but always at least an hour before it happens.

We ran the numbers, too. I can predict the outcome with 97.6% accuracy.

Pretty good odds, huh?

I just wish this talent wasn't killing me...