Publishing
Audio is awkward in a useful way. It exposes all the bits print can quietly forgive: overlong chapters, sentences that looked elegant on the page but turn into a small endurance test when spoken aloud, scene breaks that need to do more than sit there looking tidy.
Which is why treating audiobook production as an afterthought always seems a bit strange to me. If audio is going to exist, it changes the book. Sometimes enough that it deserves its own plan, not just “we’ll sort that once the paperback is done”.
The annoying part is that this is not a separate problem. It’s the same book, just with different tolerances.
Which is why treating audiobook production as an afterthought always seems a bit strange to me. If audio is going to exist, it changes the book. Sometimes enough that it deserves its own plan, not just “we’ll sort that once the paperback is done”.
The annoying part is that this is not a separate problem. It’s the same book, just with different tolerances.
Audio also punishes a certain kind of decorative prose. A sentence can look perfectly balanced in print and still feel like a mouthful of marbles once someone has to say it at speed.
Which is why I’m sceptical of the idea that audio is just another format. It’s a draft test, in a way. Not the only one, but a useful one if you care about whether the book actually moves.
Which is why I’m sceptical of the idea that audio is just another format. It’s a draft test, in a way. Not the only one, but a useful one if you care about whether the book actually moves.
Audio also has a habit of punishing the prose that looks most “finished” on the page. A line can read beautifully in silence and still trip over its own feet when spoken by a human being with lungs. That’s where a lot of writers get caught, I suspect. They edit for the eye and then act surprised when the ear files a complaint.