Between the Takes and the Diaper Changes (Audiobook Narrator Dad)

There’s a certain kind of silence that follows an audiobook audition.

No email. No callback. No gentle “Thanks, but not this time.”Just... stillness.And a little voice in your head wondering, “Was it enough?”

I’ve sent off dozens — maybe hundreds — of auditions over the years. Each one a spark of hope. A chance to step into a new story. A door that might open.

Sometimes it does.Sometimes it doesn’t.And sometimes, you never hear anything at all.

That’s the part we don’t talk about enough.

But here’s what I’ve come to realize: the audition itself is part of the work.Even the ones that go unanswered.Especially those.

Because in that moment — those two or three pages — I show up. I give everything I’ve got. I become someone else, fully and truthfully, for just a few minutes. And whether or not that leads to a contract… it always leads to growth.

Lately, life’s looked a little different behind the mic.

My toddler son can’t talk yet, but he knows my voice.When I play auditions for my wife, he lights up. His face changes — recognition, pride, joy — and in that instant, I’m reminded why I do this.

My daughter was just born. She’s not even a month old.And yeah — finding time to record right now? It’s no joke.The booth becomes a midnight refuge, and the edit chair gets shared with a baby monitor and a pot of cold coffee. I record when I can. I proof while rocking a cradle. Some days, it’s all duct tape and love holding the schedule together.

But when I do get those precious hours to record — I show up with more purpose than ever.

Because this is the dream.Even when it’s hard.Even when it’s quiet.

And somewhere in the mix of long nights, sleepless mornings, and diaper blowouts, I’ve been fortunate enough to land work with some truly incredible publishers — including major houses I once thought were out of reach.That’s not a brag — that’s gratitude.The kind that sinks in deep, knowing how many talented voices are out there.Every single job feels like a gift.

Audiobook narration is vulnerable work.You pour yourself into a character. You carry someone’s story.You become the bridge between what was written and what will be felt.

To the narrators still auditioning and hearing nothing back — keep going.To the working parents balancing booths and baby bottles — I see you.And to my kids — when you're old enough to understand this — know that every chapter I read, every accent I practiced, every midnight session… was for you.

Want to hear how this voice sounds behind the mic?Visit ShawnRvoiceover.com for samples, featured audiobooks, and a closer look at the process behind the performance.