I’d been an actor too, once upon a time, and even had a voice-over reel of commercial work from those days.

I’m not her, but I’m good casting for her. The main character is near my age, also from the Midwest, and steeped in the world of ballet as I once was. I’d already read the entire book out loud, it’s the last thing I did before sending the final draft to my editor. This new novel, though, I wanted to voice myself.Įchnically it was within my capabilities: not too long, not many characters. My last book, The Wanderers, had seven major characters of different nationalities plus some technical language to do with space exploration and I was more than happy to have a wonderful actress engaged for the audiobook.

They’re Going to Love You is my fourth novel (sixth if you count the two I coauthored under a penname) but my first to narrate. And when I wrote about Carlisle putting them on, I tested out a pair in my kitchen. I do have a box of old pointe shoes in my closet, though, saved from last performances. The experience the character Carlisle Martin has, dancing around like a perimenopausal Cinderella, is not one I’ve had. An imprint of myself, but not my own story. It takes its name from a 1904 product label for Droste Cacao by Jan Misset: a nurse holds a tray with a tin of Droste’s Cacoa, labeled with a tiny version of herself holding a tray with a tin of Droste’s Cacoa. What’s next? Making an audio recording of this essay? In art there is something called the Droste Effect, a recursive loop where smaller versions of an image are placed inside themselves. Now I’m writing about the experience of narrating the audiobook. “A perimenopausal Cinderella.” The third try was successful, and I carried on with my character’s description of dancing in pointe shoes, in her forties. I couldn’t see him, just a corner of his console. The engineer outside my booth made no comment. “A perimesopollo-yikes.” In my headphones, I heard my director laugh.

The Cranes Dance by Meg Howrey