About Emma
Emma Clarke is a leading female voiceover and comedy/drama writer. She voices all kinds of things from advertisements to radio identity packages – but is best known as the ‘voice of the London Underground’.
Previous postings
- Happy New Year!
- It’s the season of the sofa ad!
- Party time!
- Can’t sleeeeeeep!!!
- Pre-Christmas nerves
- Me and the Marzipan Taco comedy podcast
- All change please!
- Down under-ground?
- And this is normality?
- Up close and personal
- Should I do a show at next year’s Edinburgh Festival Fringe?
- Emma on the George Lamb Show on BBC 6 Music, 30th November
- Thanks for the support
Archives
Media exposure – the uncomfortable truth about reality
Monday
Jan 7 2008
I’m still not used to this media malarkey. The spoof announcement / CoPilot Live SatNav story is still rolling round the world and today I did two interviews; one for BBC Manchester and a TV package for Russia Today. Tomorrow I’m talking to REM FM, a station in Spain. This exposure is all very new to me. I’m used to spending my days cocooned in a room that used to be a downstairs bog, seeing nobody. Reader, I’ll level with you, it’s a culture shock.
Enigmatic
Since the end of November I’ve done a lot of interviews. I have to say I’m still a bit self-conscious about all this interest. I mean sure, it’s great and I’m obviously not pushing it all away – that’d be daft – but it’s a helluva change for me. I’m used to sitting in the studio all day hidden from view, only emerging to buy KitKats, frighten the neighbours and wander round the garden like something out of a Bjork video.
When I had my website revamped I decided that this one would have some pictures of me on it. My last one didn’t have any pictures of me at all. The new one, I thought coyly, would feature enigmatic images of parts of my face – never the whole visage, mind – just parts of it. I quite liked that, the anonymity. In my head, it was a kind of protection. I was safe, hidden. And it meant I didn’t get emails from people criticising my dentistry / hair / genetic disadvantages. But after the story broke, that’s all gone to pot. Now, if they want to, the world and his dog can find out what I look like. (Or, to be clear, looked like; there are some pictures circulating that were taken when I was about 17 months pregnant with my first child and Reader, I have to tell you, I don’t look my best…)
The truth...
I’ve wobbled on at length about how uncomfortable I feel hearing my own voice. Readers who’ve grasped that point can only imagine how I feel about watching myself on the telly. And that’s why I haven’t been able to bring myself to watch any of the TV stuff I’ve done. The reason is that like most people I’m fundamentally vain. So to be faced with the shocking truth of seeing what I actually look like – lordy, that’d be terrible. The only way for me to handle being seen in the media is DENIAL. I don’t want to see my bad hair day in glorious technicolour – I want to believe I’m tousled and coltish. I don’t want to be reminded of my fashion disasters; in my mind, I’m the epitome of style and poise. And I certainly don’t want to be tortured by my irritating mannerisms – the hand gestures, the tossing of the chin, the comedy shoulder shrugs – no, I want to believe I’m expressive, passionate and quirky. And how does denial work? Avoiding reality, that’s how. For me, the reality of seeing exactly what I look like would be completely unwelcome. I’m so vain, I don’t even possess a mirror big enough for me to see my torso, let alone my whole body.
So today when the lovely lady from Russia Today urged me to watch some of the TV reports about me, I shuddered. I’m sure she meant well and was doing her best to reassure me it’s not all as hideous as I imagine it to be but honestly, I’d rather listen to James Blunt. Which is saying something…
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