Voice Narrator (Audiobooks)

Job Overview

Books by Behnke is looking for a Voice Narrator to record emotional, real, and heartfelt readings for our upcoming audiobook projects. No fancy studio or expensive setup is required — just a quiet space and your iPhone. If you can bring emotion to the story and sound authentic, we want you.
What you’ll do

• Record assigned chapters using the Voice Memos app on your iPhone.
• Read with emotion, clarity, and pacing that matches the tone of the book.
• Upload recordings (Google Drive, Dropbox, or email).
• Follow basic direction and complete revisions if requested.

What we’re looking for

• Clear, natural voice with emotional range.
• Empathy and care with sensitive topics (grief, love, trauma, healing).
• Dependable communication and quick turnaround (typically 1–2 days per chapter).
• No professional equipment required — iPhone voice notes only.

Pay

• Flat rate: $100–$750 per project (based on tone, quality, and project length).
• Paid via direct deposit upon approval of final recordings.

How to apply
Email [email protected] with:

1. A 1-minute voice note introducing yourself.
2. A 2-minute reading sample using the script below.

Audition Script
> Closure doesn’t come all at once.
> It doesn’t knock on your door or send a clear sign.
> It arrives in fragments — in the small, quiet moments you almost miss.
> A message left unsent.
> A picture you finally stop scrolling back to.
> The song that used to destroy you but now just feels like sound.
> The nights you sleep through without waking up in tears.
> The number you delete, not out of anger, but because you’re done waiting for it to ring.It’s the way your voice doesn’t shake when their name comes up.
> The way your chest doesn’t tighten when someone asks what happened.
> It’s realizing you stopped checking their location,
> stopped wondering if they think of you too.
> Closure is gentle — almost silent —
> a series of small decisions to stop bleeding over something that’s already ended.You’ll catch it in moments you didn’t plan:
> folding laundry to a song you once cried to,
> walking past a place that used to feel like home,
> hearing their laugh in someone else’s voice and not falling apart.And one day, without even noticing,
> you’ll breathe without the weight.
> You’ll laugh without guilt.
> You’ll realize you stopped trying to rewrite the ending.That’s what closure really is —
> not forgetting, not erasing,
> but finally accepting that it happened,
> and you survived it.It’s the quiet decision to let go,
> not because you stopped caring,
> but because you finally love yourself enough to move forward.