Putting the neighbors on high alert

Hey, it's Jeffrey Cranor, adding on a little bit about episode 248 - Mother Lauren. So, I live in Brooklyn. I just moved to this apartment in September. Small building. Only 3 units, one per floor. I'm on the top floor of the walk-up. I have a little recording studio set up here, mostly for recording ads and episodes of my horror movie podcast Random Horror 9. But occasionally, when we have a guest actor for Welcome to Night Vale who lives in New York, I'll have them come over to record their part.

One such fellow New Yorker is Lauren Sharpe, the voice of Mother Lauren (aka Lauren Mallard). Lauren and I go way back. In fact, I met Lauren on the same day I met Joseph Fink for the first time. They were both in a workshop for the NY Neo-Futurists back in Spring 2009.

So a few weeks ago, Lauren came over to my apartment to record her part for episode 248. Without spoiling for those who haven't listened, there are a few moments where the character Mother Lauren says two different words/phrases at the same time. That's easy enough. You just do two different takes and then layer them in editing.

One of those moments though is when Mother Lauren kicks it to The Weather. One one track, she says "the weather," and the alternate text is just a stage direction that says "[blood curdling scream]."

Lauren Sharpe and I were sitting at my dining room table talking through the script before recording. She wasn't sure about how to approach the scream, and I said, we'll just do a bunch of takes. Maybe try one that's the sound of someone in a panic. One where you're trying to spook someone. One that's more of a war cry. Etc. We'd leave it to Dispartion (our show's producer) to choose the best one.

But before recording I told Lauren if we're going to make a bunch of noise, especially if that noise is a woman screaming bloody murder, then I better alert my downstairs neighbors. I don't want them thinking that the single guy in the apartment upstairs is doing violent crimes. Lauren nodded, and I walked one flight down.

My neighbor was, indeed, home, and I said, "Hey so my friend is over and we're recording something today. It's, uh, for a podcast. And I just wanted you to know it might be noisy for a minute or two."

He said "That's fine. Thanks for letting me know." He didn't seem too bothered by noise in a downtown Brooklyn apartment building.

Fair enough.

But it wasn't the general noise I was worried about him hearing. So I added: "Specifically, it's a blood curdling scream you might hear, and I just didn't want that to catch you off guard and think untoward things were happening upstairs and all."

He looked less unbothered by this statement. "Um sure. Okay," he said, and closed his door.

I walked back upstairs, where I had left my apartment door open. Lauren was still sitting at the dining room table, able to hear that whole conversation.

"He totally thinks you're about to murder a lady," she said with a smirk.

It's been a month since that day, and so far, no police have been called. This is because I'm a mastermind serial killer. I'll never be caught, because I make sure that all of my victims are unharmed and feel completely safe. It's an ingenious method.

Because, listen, if they can't find a body, they can't press charges.