At the beginning of my radio adventure, it didn't feel any different from many of the book promotion trips I'm beginning to get used to. The night before I worry about what to bring, what to wear, and how early I have to leave. The morning of the event, I wonder if I remembered the directions and the maps. And of course, I wonder about the weather. This time the weather was a biggie.
Rain doesn't scare me that much. Snow and ice? Different story. But rain, unless it's dark or the rain is torrential, isn't a big deal anymore. It used to be a big deal when I was in my early twenties and had junk cars with nearly bald tires and poor handling, but now that I can afford a safe car with new tires, I'm okay with rain.
It's taken me a few years to realize that I'm okay, though; that the "you hydroplane at 45 miles per hour" rule they taught us in Driver's Ed applied to the cars of that time, not to the cars of today.
But back to my story. At the beginning of the day, my main feeling was slight anxiety over getting to a strange place on time. That worry over with, I was pretty much relaxed. After all, I wasn't the one in the hot seat, and I had fulfilled my role by delivering the star to the show.
I tried to psyche myself up, reminding myself that there could be as many as 200,000 people listening to this little radio station on the north shore, but no dice. I just couldn't get terrified. The host and the guest were just too calm, too natural, too relaxed. And that's all who was in the room -- them and me.
I suppose it would have been different if it had been a television set. Then there would have been lights and camera men and maybe makeup people and so on, but it wasn't. It was just a little radio broadcasting room and three people.
I hear that even at larger radio stations, it isn't much different. You're in a little room with the equipment and that's it. The room we were in was probably as big as the room I use for my office at home. The large pieces of equipment were against the wall and I really couldn't see the dials and knobs and switches that might have been there. Who knows, maybe it's mostly electronic these days and all the action is on a computer monitor.
It was a little bit surreal, but why? Every day I type for hours, connected to an internet of millions, and I'm not really aware that they're there. So why am I surprised when the 200,000 seem so invisible? Maybe it's just because it was such a new experience.
After the interview, we waited politely while Hawthorne announced the next piece of music and then we thanked him and slipped quietly out the door, through an empty building, and back into the rain. His was the last live show of the morning. No other guests were waiting outside the door, no voices animated the halls. It was as empty when we left as when we arrived.
Still, it was an experience. And it was fun.
What I'm Reading Now...
- The Historian by Elizabeth Kostova
- Page After Page by Heather Sellers
- How to Write Killer Fiction by Carolyn Wheat
What I've Finished Reading Recently...
- The Practical Writer Edited by Therese Eiben and Mary Gannon
- The Complete Idiot's Guide to Grammar and Style by Laurie E. Rozakis
- The Song of an Emerald Dove by Xanna Vinson
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