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I got a great call from my agent the other day. For anyone not in the acting profession, you should know calls FROM your agents are terrific by nature; calls TO your agent, not so much. We’d much rather be on the receiving end, because it means we’re in demand, y’know? GETTING calls from agents is great, usually meaning you have auditions pending. And in this day of caller ID, just looking at your phone and seeing your agent’s number pop up can be a grand feeling.

(Great story: Jack Benny and George Burns used to have the same agent, way back in the vaudeville days. Their agent was such a decent, caring man that he couldn’t bring himself to hurt their feelings and tell them he didn’t have any work for them. So, if an actor came into his office looking for work, he’d say, “Ah, sure, um, let me see… Where are those papers? They must be here someplace…” He’d proceed to bury his nose in each and every drawer of his desk until the actor took the hint and got up and left, thereby letting the agent off the hook. One time, George Burns walked out of the office and saw Jack Benny walking in. “Don’t bother,” George said. “He’s opening his drawers.”)

So, okay, I’m in bed the other morning, it’s late, I’ve slept in ’cuz I was up until about 1:00AM recording Harlan Coben’s latest title, HOLD TIGHT, for Brilliance Audio (more on that later, I promise), and the phone wakes me up. I don’t look at caller ID, I just grab it quickly before it goes to voicemail. “Hi, it’s Adrienne, from Abrams,” comes the voice from my voiceover agency. I’m thinking, “Great, an audition! But how in the world am I going to fit this one in? I’m under a crazy deadline here!” But the next words out of her mouth were a complete surprise. Adrienne was calling, she said, to congratulate me on the Audie nominations.

Well, bless her heart.

I wasn’t even aware my agency read the Audie results. But of course, it makes sense they would, and how kind to make the call and let me know they were happy for me. It was a delightful surprise, a wonderful way to start my morning. I had received an e-mail from the Audio Publishers’ Association just a day earlier, giving me the news, but to be honest I’d barely skimmed it. Between recording Harlan Coben’s HOLD TIGHT and the first of four non-DUNE Frank Herbert novels I’ve been working on, and locking down the rights to my next self-published venture, LORD FOUL’S BANE by Stephen R. Donaldson, I’m really busy these days, and even though it was in my best interest to read that e-mail, I’d let it go. The call from my agent was a nice reminder to do so.

It turns out two books I contributed to this year were nominated, both multi-voice recordings. I’m by no means the only person responsible for those books, but still, it’s awfully nice to be recognized. The first volume of George R. R. Martin’s short story collection, DREAMSONGS VOLUME 1 from Random House Audio was nominated, which made me very happy, as the Random House folks are always so good to me. But amazingly, DUNE by Frank Herbert, released by Macmillan Audio, got THREE nominations! Three, for one book! Just blew me away. DUNE is the only book I’ve ever gotten to record twice, the first time for Books on Tape, a solo narration, and this time as one of many voices bringing the book to life for Macmillan. It was a tremendous project to work on, and I was extremely proud to be a part of it.

The audiobook industry’s version of the Oscars, the Audies – and I should clarify that they are in fact pronounced AW-deez, not OW-dees; an Audi is a car, not an award (think AW-dee as in “audio”) – the Audies are scheduled for June of this year, and are going to be held in my home city, Los Angeles. Should be a blast. I’ve had a great deal of fun at the Audies over the years. I was very grateful to have won, back in 2003, for my very first nomination, the DUNE prequel, DUNE: THE BUTLERIAN JIHAD.

I’ve also been a presenter for most years since. If you click here you can see some cool photos at various Audie ceremonies over the years (and for listeners, if you’d like to see the photos, please log onto my website, scottbrickpresents.com, click on this blog entry, and you’ll see the link to the photos). This one of me and the late Kate Fleming, the immensely talented audiobook narrator, is probably my favorite – that was the first time I was asked to present, and we got to do it together. God, that was fun. What a great night. It still blows me away that Kate isn’t here anymore. I miss her every day. That’ll be a subject for another entry soon, I promise.

(You may not recognize Kate Fleming’s name, but you know her company and her work. Kate, who recorded under the pseudonym Anna Fields, was killed tragically in a flood in December of 2006. She was a dear friend of mine as well as the owner and publisher of Cedar House Audio. Kate won an Audie in 2004 for her lovely narration of Ruth Ozeki’s ALL OVER CREATION. You can read a memorial I wrote about Kate here, and if you’re interested in donating to the Kate Fleming Memorial Fund, you can simply mail or walk your donation in to any Washington Mutual banking branch. Please put “Account 030600001486459” in the memo field.)

Anyway, I’ll finish up by saying I’ve been very blessed to be nominated a lot these last few years, and I’m constantly humbled that people – be they commuters who listen to the occasional book in cars or high school kids who don’t have the time to read but need to write that book report or even the folks on the Audie nominating committee – enjoy my work enough to recognize me. I try to remain sanguine about whether or not I take an Audie home, but let’s be honest, I’m an actor and I’m as shallow as the next guy. Winning is nice.

Still, as in the case of the year where Kate and I presented together, or last year when fellow narrator and good friend Carrington MacDuffie and I were asked to replace Kate Fleming’s Audie that was lost when she was killed, these were some of the loveliest evenings I’ve ever spent in this industry, and they had nothing to do with any nominations or winning an actual award. It was all about spending time with my peers in the industry, people I love and admire, and who work tirelessly to make books all of us can listen to.

So thanks to you all for supporting audiobooks the way you do, and thanks especially for the attention and kindness you’ve given me. It means a great deal, and I’m always honored and humbled by your response. As long as you keep listening to books, I’ll keep reading ’em.

And given that it’s Valentine’s Day (not to mention Jack Benny’s birthday), I’d be remiss if I didn’t say hello to my lovely valentine, Wendy, who is actually going to record her very first audiobook this coming week. I love you, babe. So, Happy Valentine’s Day to all, and to all a good night.

Thanks for listening,

Scott Brick
February 14, 2008

(Scott’s remembrance of his friend Kate Fleming of Cedar House Audio was printed in AudioFile. The complete text appears here.)

In my former career writing magazine articles, I penned over 300 pieces, wrote close to half a million words, yet never in my life have I had to write a sentence as difficult as this:

Kate Fleming died on December 14^th, 2006, at her home in Seattle, drowning in her basement during a violent rainstorm.

I look at the words, and they don’t seem real. Kate was far too alive to ever be gone.

I met Kate – who narrated under the pseudonym Anna Fields to honor her great-grandmother, a Vaudeville performer of the same name – four years ago at the Audie Awards in Los Angeles. After being introduced, we wound up laughing a great deal more than we talked, an experience I discovered was common when people first met Kate. There was a vibrancy to her that manifested in the most charming ways, usually in smiles so wide they made your face hurt.

Kate was a uniquely talented performer. A veteran theatre actress, she ultimately gave up appearing on the stage and all the competitiveness that went along with it to pursue narrating audiobooks full-time. She’d found her niche, she used to say. Living behind the microphone was where she felt she was born to be.

There was a quality to Kate’s reading that always defied definition for me, a clarity of both words and intent, a crispness to her voice that went above and beyond just diction. She had a precision to her presentation, an attention to detail that was inspiring. “When Kate was in the booth, she would give herself over to the page,” says Lyssa Browne, Kate’s business partner in Cedar House Audio, the company she ran from her home in Seattle. “She honored the author, and the words they wrote. She could instantly convey the truthfulness of each character, she captured the essence of the story so quickly. It really took the guesswork out of the process for listeners.”

In the days following her passing, notices about Kate’s death ran across the internet. News outlets carried the report across every type of media that she was no more, yet for all the coverage, those of us who knew her couldn’t quite get over our shock. “I just returned from recording an audio book under her direction last week,” said narrator and close friend Simon Vance in an email. “She was an absolute joy to work with. I am devastated.” Condolences and testimonials from audio industry professionals flew onto message boards and listservs, and one by one, people began setting aside their workloads and making arrangements to fly north to pay their respects.

I arrived in Seattle late on Wednesday, December 20^th. An hour’s delay on the runway due to bad weather brought me to the church after the funeral liturgy had already begun. I tromped up the steps of St. Therese Parish and shook the water from my overcoat, thinking that the rain was both a cruel reminder of how Kate had been taken from us, as well as somehow appropriate for the occasion. Somber, melancholy, subdued.

I was greeted by the sight of an absolutely packed house. Not a seat remained, there were hundreds of people spread across every pew, with dozens more standing in aisles, hallways and vestibules. I had never seen so many people at a funeral before. Dazed, I made my way into the social hall behind the church where a video screen had been set up, and where an overspill crowd watched the proceedings on folding chairs. Overwhelmed, I sat down, and realized I should never be surprised at the sight of so many people showing up to express their love for Kate Fleming. What could have been more natural?

Much of the service was a blur to me, observed through a haze of tears. I saw many a set of shoulders vibrating with sobs, and heard several cries choked off in handkerchiefs. Then, looking up, I saw the last thing I expected under the circumstances: Charlene Strong, Kate’s partner of nine years, standing up to deliver the eulogy.

She was amazing. At times funny, poignant and dramatic, she spoke from her heart and somehow managed to comfort all of us, sharing the Kate she knew so well. She spoke for us all when she began her eulogy by saying, “Today shouldn’t be happening.” Charlene painted an extraordinary picture of Kate, speaking as eloquently as ever Kate did herself. Her courage was remarkable. Daunting, actually. I was overwhelmed by just how powerfully Kate had been loved in life, and in the midst of my sadness over her passing, while listening to Charlene I actually somehow managed to find solace, even inspiration, in one thing:

Kate was dearly loved, and knew it.

So many times we hear stories about people who weren’t appreciated until after they’re gone. Books and films alike are filled with tragic tales of love where the hero or heroine only discover they were loved at the last possible moment, or sometimes, sadly, not at all. Well, I looked around the church and thanked God that wasn’t the case with Kate. She was appreciated in so many different ways, ways that were too obvious to ignore. All she would have had to do was pick up a copy of AudioFile and read the reviews of titles she’d narrated to learn how much people admired her work. And all she’d have to do was look into the eyes of Charlene to see how much she was truly loved.

As tragic as this day was, the real tragedy would have been if Kate had died unaware of our love for her. But she didn’t.

The service over, friends clutched one another and wept. Some shook their heads in denial, others in anger. I thought of the five stages of grief and realized I was witnessing those stages just beginning for all of us that day. When tragedy strikes, we start out in Denial, transition quickly into Anger, then move through a Bargaining phase to Depression. These steps are all useful, supposedly, to get us to the final stage, Acceptance, the place where we can come to terms with our loss and be healed. That is the whole point of grief, isn’t it? To come to a point where we can accept that there’s a hole in our lives, a hole only that loved one can fill; but we accept the hole, in time it becomes okay that the hole is there.

I tried to imagine this happening with Kate, and couldn’t. In her case, I found it hard then, and still find it hard now, to believe that it’ll be okay that she’s not here. That it’s okay we’ll never get to talk baseball or religion or gossip anymore. That it’s okay she’ll never record another audiobook ever again. There were so many words left to be spoken.

I saw Charlene before leaving that day, and as she did during the eulogy, she spoke my feelings out loud once again when she hugged me and cried on my shoulder; she gave words to the feelings of everyone who knew and loved Kate as she said, “I can’t believe I’ll never hear her voice again.”

(You can listen to Kate read and view her audiography by visiting her page on AudioFile’s website.)