It’s still dark outside. It’s the middle of winter, but under my golden wool blanket, I’m warm. The house is silent. Everyone is still asleep. I ease my bedroom door open, trying to soften the squeak. I walk slowly, carefully. The kitchen floor is icy under my bare feet. I pass my parents’ room unnoticed, reach the living room, and look at the VCR clock. Two more minutes.
My small finger presses the big power button on the TV. There’s a spring behind it—you can feel it, hear it too. Click. Release. Comes the unmistakable hiss of static… then the image. I sit cross-legged on the sofa, wrapped up to my chin in my blanket.
It’s 5:59 a.m., somewhere in the 1990s, and Saturday morning cartoons are about to begin!

As far as I can remember, I’ve always been fascinated by voices—sounds, storytelling, delivery, performance. I paid attention to characters, actors, politicians, salespeople, preachers—how they translate ideas into words, speech and music; how they carry emotion.
I come from a family of musicians. As far as I remember, I’ve always heard the music, intention, tone—the score for every sentence I wrote or read.
Before Voice Over Had a Name
Knowing what I loved at such a young age didn’t mean I understood it could be a profession—or something I could build a career on. I didn’t even really understand the concept of a career. I didn’t realize there were jobs behind this fun thing I was enjoying. I was just in love with the result.
When I began to understand, it didn’t mean I gave myself permission to go after my dream just yet. Oh no! We tend to do that, don’t we, humans? Deny ourselves what we truly want!
Before I made it into voice-over, I had what you could call an unfortunate series of odd jobs. I worked as a helper on a recycling truck, cook in a fast-food restaurant, dishwasher in a high-end manor, janitor, warehouse clerk, production assistant on film and TV sets—and a few more jobs I’ve half-forgotten—before I finally got fed up with work that just paid the bills, but left me empty.
Live Events
Alongside all these odd jobs, I did some stand-up comedy and kept part-time gigs as a lighting technician, sound technician, and stagehand on live events. I worked for a small company, and as a small team, we did everything—from setup to wrap, then driving home at 4 AM after a show.
We worked on all kinds of events: variety, stand-up, conferences, live music, corporate holiday parties, festivals—you name it. I loved the music above all. Feeling the energy from the bands and the crowds, seeing people chant, jump, dance, and move with the beat.
But working in live events—and in the film industry (my last job before V.O.)—takes a toll. The days never end. A 12-hour shift is a short day in those worlds. Eventually, I was exhausted—physically and mentally.
Getting Into Voice Over
Sometime around 2009 or 2010, I was scanning through classified ads in my small apartment on Hochelaga Street, Montreal. I stumbled upon a listing to voice an online commercial.
I grabbed an old microphone I had sitting in a box—some cheap SM58 knockoff with an on/off switch. I plugged it into my noisy sound card, which clearly lacked proper gain, but made up for it with plenty of hiss, and did my best impression of a commercial voice. I sent a couple of takes… and they must have loved my energy, because I got hired!
The job paid 35 Canadian dollars!
I can hear you wince—and see you squint—at the thought of recording an ad with such bad gear. I had the exact same reaction when I found that ad online about ten years later and listened to it with what were now trained ears. I could practically hear the reflections bouncing off the yellow and blue walls of my absolutely not-soundproof living room.

This was before decent AI plugins or apps could (try to) fix just about any audio issue. I couldn’t believe I had the nerve to send that! And that I got hired! They must have really liked my energy, because a few years later, they called me back to offer me the TV version of the commercial. By then, of course, I had upgraded my setup.
Back in 2009–2010, though, as rough as my recording was, getting hired gave me confidence in my potential and abilities. From there, I bought a better microphone and started auditioning for every job I could find online. I got myself a preamp, then a better audio interface and monitors. Along the way, I took private lessons in editing and mixing with a local studio engineer.
Studying Voice Over
I had decent success for about three years, mostly landing gigs that required self-direction. My musical ear and attention to detail helped a lot for that, and since I loved the work, I auditioned with as much attention and passion as if it were the real thing!
In 2013, I decided to go back to school. I wanted to improve my voice-over skills, but also gain some legitimacy—a diploma. I needed new tools and outside feedback.
I’ve always loved writing too, so I found a school that combined voice training, radio hosting, TV hosting, journalism writing and research. The Conservatoire Lassalle was the oldest theater school in Montreal. Sadly, it closed a few years ago.
The training helped me reach the next level in voice acting, but it also gave me unexpected tools. Studying journalism instilled the habit of double-checking information—confirming doubts, whether it’s about a translated script or word pronunciation. Research training reinforced that, along with fact-checking. Needless to say, ethics and accuracy are valuable commodities in today’s world of unreliable content. I also joined an improv team, and I cannot praise highly enough the benefits it has brought to my life, both personally and professionally.
While I studied, I hosted radio shows and podcasts on music, arts, and health.
After graduating, I kept the habit of regularly taking voice workshops—phonetics, breathing, even singing. Even when I don’t directly use those skills, I find they add nuance to my core. Looking ahead, drama is probably the next area I want to go back to.
The Story Continues, Bite the next crumb…
I rode up and down Montreal’s streets with about $8,000 worth of microphones in my backpack… on a brake-less bicycle.
You know that scene in Indiana Jones where he stops the mining cart with his feet and his boots get…



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