We were lucky to catch up with Scott Hebert recently and have shared our conversation below.

Scott, thanks for taking the time to share your stories with us today Can you talk to us about how you learned to do what you do?

I used a sometimes excellent/sometimes terrible learning method for myself: repetition and a lack of satisfaction. Also, it was my pitch, my project. I wasn’t going to set this all up and ask someone else to do the heavy lifting. I don’t mind the heavy lifting. It’s a distraction from all the other things I should have been working on. (I’m never more productive on side projects than when I have something to do.) After I proved to myself that I could get an editing job done, I wanted to do it better. That meant better techniques and better equipment and more repetition. I checked YouTube and Reddit for help when problems came up and applied the lessons.

I do wish I hadn’t started with a free audio editor. I wish I had spent the time and money early learning one of the beefier audio editors. It would have saved me a lot of editing time and made me a better editor more quickly. But, I was skimping on costs and comfortable enough with my rigorous, clunky editor.

A little tenacity was a big benefit for my early work. If you’re doing this work alone, you gotta want something out of it. You have to enjoy the process or get satisfaction out of releasing that product, otherwise you’ll just burn out and move on to more interesting things for you. Resourcefulness, also a very good trait to have. Doing things on the cheap is nice when you’re not sure what your long-term goal is. If you’re going to get into podcasting, remember this: someone is getting out of podcasting. They’re selling their gear on eBay. Go pick up their dream and run with it!

Time is the obstacle for all things, but especially when you have a 40-50 hour a week job on top of two side hustles, and the podcast. I wish I had more time to spend getting better at what I’m doing. But, here’s the thing: I do. This is a total cop-out. I have enough time to do those things, but my brain gets fried from the rest of my life and I just want to decompress with a video game sometimes. And that’s okay! What’s really standing in my way is myself…my own drive and focus. And maybe I’ll make a *real* effort at working on those too. But until then, I’ll follow my grandpa’s adage, “However long you give a person to do a job, that’s how long it’ll take ‘em.” (Proven by how long it took me to submit these answers)

Scott, before we move on to more of these sorts of questions, can you take some time to bring our readers up to speed on you and what you do?

In junior high and high school, I was drawn to choir and theater. Part of that was the path laid down for me by my older sister, Angela. She was always more popular, more academic, and more interested in achieving. I always leaned more towards video games and computers, and the dramatic arts required memorizing things OTHER than math formulas or periodic tables, which held no interest for me at all. It’s probably fair to say I had a bit of a rebellious streak. I was around six weeks into my freshman year of high school when my dad suddenly died of a heart attack. *poof* He was there Thursday. He was gone Friday. I found it hard to care about book reports on contemporary literature for a good long while. At least with singing and acting, I could get some of that emotion out.

A decade or so after graduation, some of my theater friends from high school had left to go form theater companies of their own, but made their way back to Duluth, Minnesota. My love for the digital had only gotten stronger, and when they were staffing up their shows on a budget, they gave me a call. I eagerly jumped at the opportunity to get back into theater, but I wanted to remain behind the scenes. My computer aptitude, video game reflexes, and mind built for multitasking found a welcome home in the booth of a little black box theater called the Teatro Zuccone.

The first year was spent creating sound effects, soundtracks, props, and stage managing. The creativity, the team building, the camaraderie, they were all things I badly wanted and quickly latched on to. I eventually challenged my stage fright and began auditioning for on-stage roles, because acting is easier than being a prop master, and WAY easier than being a stage manager. By the time I was ready for a break 11 years later, I had been involved in almost 40 productions, played in 750 weekend improv shows, worked through separated shoulders, broken ankles, and a torn hamstring, been fully naked for a house of 300, acted for single digit houses, and sang for thousands. I’d do it all again in a heartbeat.

Right about when I departed from theater, I had begun watching a Youtube show called “Acquisitions Incorporated.” In technical terms, it’s a 5th edition Dungeons & Dragons actual-play web series. To break it down: They play D&D, and we watch and be entertained. I looked at the work they were doing and I was amazed and entertained. A fully produced and occasionally live streamed game of D&D. I couldn’t stop watching. It was interesting, it was creative, and most of all it was funny. I started thinking about the D&D game I was in with my friends, and considered what we would need to actually follow in these brand-new footsteps.

I was streaming my own video gameplay on Twitch, so I at least had some equipment to get started with. My Dungeon Master (DM) already had at least a dozen theater credits to his name, so he was an easy choice to run the game. The two of us then brainstormed a name, (Twin Portals, a play on the “Twin Ports” nickname for the port cities of Duluth and Superior, WI (itself a play on the “Twin Cities” of Minneapolis and St. Paul)) and then we discussed which of our friends would create the best group dynamic. Once the cast was set, we held a session zero, which is the important meeting every D&D group should have before their first session. We discussed character creation, character relationships, scheduling, and what if anything would be a hard no as far as content.

Once all that was done, we just had to play D&D. I shamelessly begged for time in the Teatro Zuccone, a neutral space with no phones/pets/significant others/kids/life to distract from the recording. We recorded two episodes in private, and as was always the plan, the third episode would be in front of an audience. Thinking back on it now…WOW, that’s ambitious. We welcomed an audience of about 35 people to watch us play a game that had only been running for two months. 35 people. Mostly friends, with a few look-in members. That was December of 2018. Three months earlier, I was in Seattle, Washington watching Acquisitions Incorporated play a live game in Benaroya Hall for 2,500 people. There was roaring laughter, cheering, yelling, and amazing energy for a D&D game. We had 35 people in a theater of 100 seats, and we had captured that same energy in Duluth, Minnesota.

Since that first live show, we have done nine more shows with an audience, 46 episodes total, just a few minutes shy of 100 hours of content. Every minute has been produced and edited by me, and it’s not all great. Were I asked, I’d say most of it should be generously graded as, “Needs improvement.” It’s not so much a portfolio as a journey. The biggest, most attractive three-word phrase for me now is, “Proof of concept.” In my brain, I see this whole project as a series of proofs of concept. Episodes one through three and then through twelve were proof that I could make a listenable product with the hardware I had on hand: one microphone connected to a hand-me-down laptop.

Sometime during those first twelve episodes, someone said the words “Arts Grant” to me. Turns out, Minnesota is a pretty awesome place and there is grant money out there for people with some writing talent and an idea. Since we had hosted live shows every three months, Twin Portals was considered arts programming. I applied for the “Artist Access” grant from the Arrowhead Regional Arts Council. This grant was specifically designed for people who have never received a grant before. It was $1,000 and it changed everything. I was able to purchase some real equipment upgrades. Instead of one microphone with one audio track and five people talking on it, it was five separate tracks, each with individual performers…mostly…I still had a lot of education coming to me about proper mic placement and gain levels.

In March of 2020, we had our most dramatic live show yet, with the surprise disintegration of one of our characters. We had lived with these characters for a year and a half, and we were all very attached to each other and the group dynamic we had created. It was terribly troubling when one of us turned to dust. Nothing is permanent in D&D though, so we’d find out how we could get him back after just eleven short months. That’s right. Covid happened.

Recording in person was no longer an option, because we might kill each other for real. The big thing that I felt separated us from the majority of other D&D streams I’ve watched is the insistence that we record together, around the same table. I find remote games to be perfectly fine to play in, but find remote games to be awkward and jarring when observing. The shared energy is key in a group standing out and developing their personas and relationships. So much of comedy is based on wit and timing, and internet latency can destroy those things. I also felt a need for sensitivity in how we handled the next episode. That character dying was genuine loss. The air came out of the theater when it happened, players included.

There were other reasons we didn’t get together. On May 25th, 2020, George Floyd was murdered by members of the Minneapolis Police Department. There was a lot of trauma saturation that summer. I was still working full time in a hospital. Every day I went to work, I wondered if a patient was going to kill me, or if I was going to kill my family just by breathing the same air. 150 miles away in Minneapolis, I watched citizens burning down police stations, and I wasn’t sure they were wrong to do so. My romantic relationship became a long-distance relationship when she lived 13 miles away, then again, when she moved 150 miles away, right near that city on fire. And that was all the summer of 2020. Yeah, I was depressed. So, I didn’t schedule our next recording session. Didn’t even want to talk about it really. My relationship ended in November, and I suddenly had some free time that needed filling quick.

Remember back when I said, “Arts Grants?” Rewinding a few months, back to June 2020 or so, I received an email from the Minnesota State Arts Board (MSAB.) They wanted me to know that they were making changes to their grant offerings in light of the pandemic. Art was changing since people couldn’t get within six feet of each other, so MSAB changed too. They offered a new “Creative Support for Individuals” grant, and the major requirement was that you had received a state grant within the last three years. Well, that was me. I thought remote recording may be a thing we had to do to continue our story safely, so I requested six microphones, stands, and PC adapters so that if we were going to record remotely, we’d at least sound awesome. There was also enough left over to pay the players, DM, and myself $15/hr. That’s right. We’d become a paid D&D crew if I got the grant.

I got the grant. The money was approved in January, and we started making plans. We recorded a round table discussion so people could hear our voices again, find out what we’d been up to during our pandemics, and as a proof of concept, make sure we all recorded locally so I could put them together on my end. It was a hassle, but it all worked and sounded pretty decent. In March, we played a session remotely.

By April, we had all the gear we needed for high quality, fully remote recordings. By May, we all had vaccines, and we were recording in person again. I felt guilty about the remote recording gear that was suddenly collecting dust, but in December 2020, I still didn’t know when I’d see my friends again. On July 10th, 2021, Twin Portals was the first show on the Teatro Zuccone stage since the start of the pandemic. In the two years since, there’s been a few more grants, we have released (nearly) monthly episodes, and we have started recording in a lovely little home podcasting studio that fits six people and a bunch of gear around a table with just the right amount of snug.
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For distribution, I have two projects. “Twin Portals,” which I’ve talked about extensively, and a second podcast affectionately titled, “Shut Up, I Hate You.” It’s a fun little side project with my “Bestie” as she calls it, (but I still have difficulty firing that word out as a man of my age.) We’ve found that it is a fantastic excuse for two somewhat busy people to hang out twice a month. We’re not experts in anything, so we pretty much just recap our lives and take on topics we may not normally consider talking about. Plus, it’s kinda fun seeing your picture on Spotify.

I’ve also started a business called “Scoot Along Productions, LLC.” It’s listed as being for audio production, podcast/voice over type stuff, but I could use it for any of my other side hustles. Maybe it’s just goofy, but I’ve said those exact words at every stop along this weird little journey. So far, it’s all turned out okay.
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I think two things set me apart as a producer/editor. The first thing is timing. Comedy is all timing and acting is a lot of timing…being able to feel when the audience is ready for that next word, or sound, or action. Working for 15 years in live theater has given me what I believe is a good feel for the natural flow of conversation. Silence is important and knowing how long a silence should feel for a particular moment is something I think will get noticed. Filler words like “umm” have a place too. They let the listener know that more is coming. Of course, too many “umms” is also a problem. You gotta go in there and edit those out if you want to show your audience some respect. It takes some extra work. That’s the other thing.

I work to make my product sound listenable. I’m not just talking about running it through a filter or two. I re-listen to the whole episode, at various states of attentiveness, and trim and silence and combine as I go. I’ve gotten my skills down to where a two-hour, five person D&D podcast takes me 4-5 hours to do the raw edit. Add on transitions, intro/outro bumpers, and music, and it could be between 7-10 hours to get the whole thing finished to a level that I feel comfortable releasing.

I always think about it in those terms…how many people will listen to this? Dozens? Even if it is dozens, that’s still more hours listened than time I spent making sure it was good. That feels worth it to me. That’s what sets me apart…I want every second to sound good, or at least ignorable.
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I’m proud that the work I produce sounds, to my limited ear, better than other podcasts I listen to. I don’t have a huge podcast library, but there’s some well-funded Patreons and corporate sports broadcasts on my list, and they just drive me nuts with their quality at times. Some of it is definitely my equipment. Minnesota has been very good to me. However, I can tell that these shows only get the barest of treatment after the recording is done. And maybe that’s just the reality when you’re on their level, live streaming to multiple sites and releasing audio and video content, while also managing every other facet of their jobs. I’m probably spoiled in that I have a comparatively simple task, release good sounding audio on a weekly or monthly basis. But, I’m ready for more. I think the work I do is good, and the experience I have comes from grinding it out. If I were to get a full-time gig producing audio, if I didn’t have to spend 40-50 hours a week in a hospital, just how far could I run?

It reminds me of an adage from “The West Wing:” “Play baseball coach for a minute. Two players run to first. They have the exact same time, but one has perfect form, one has lousy form. Who do you pick?” “The one with lousy form. Because if you coach them up, they beat the other player to first.”

I’m ready coach. Put me in.

Is there a particular goal or mission driving your creative journey?

I think I stopped considering “goals” goals. A goal seems like such a surprise to me now. I feel like I’ve underachieved my goals for so long, now I prefer to just think of things I want to achieve as, “the next step.” “That’s where I’m going, now I just figure out how I’m going to get there.” Like most people, I get there one step at a time. I think it helps me keep things in perspective. I’d like to produce full time. I’d like to have a successful and entertaining podcast (or two.) What’s the first step to releasing a solid, popular podcast? Releasing some bad ones.

What do you find most rewarding about being a creative?

Coming up with a solution to a problem that I hadn’t thought of before. That eureka moment is absolute gold. It can turn around a whole weekend. The *real* good ones are kinda rare. Our Twin Portals live shows feel that way sometimes, especially now that I’m adding more and more elements after my last grant. The June “one more step” was introducing two live dice cameras, projected on a 100” screen, so the audience could react to our dice rolls at the same time as us. I had worked on it for a few months, getting things prepared and waiting for sale prices. It took some brainstorming, some troubleshooting, and a perfectly acceptable abuse of the Amazon return system, but the proof of concept worked better than I had hoped. It did add time to setup/teardown, but that’s just another problem to find a solution to.

Contact Info:

• Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/TwinPortalsGame/
• Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/show/02YekhBXnwMgpxOeiwRKHZ?si=24902484d1db4ebc
• iTunes: https://podcasts.apple.com/au/podcast/twin-portals/id1449294861
• Google Podcasts: https://podcasts.google.com/feed/aHR0cHM6Ly90d2lucG9ydGFscy5saWJzeW4uY29tL3Jzcw

Image Credits
Scott Hebert Justin Peck Jody Peck