Despite having a face made for radio, it was a huge surprise when the host of a local radio show asked if I was interested in coming to the station to promote the book signing event happening this Saturday in my current (and favorite) “home”town of Brattleboro, Vermont.
By the by, I hope you’re making your extensive travel arrangements to join us at the event. I’m glad we had this talk.
I don’t get many opportunities as a mom to wear headphones, ignore ambient noise and have people actually listen to the words coming out of my mouth, so, I said YES or screamed it into the host’s face. Details.
It dawned on me shortly thereafter that being on the radio and being interesting on the radio are two totally different berries. Although they look exactly the same, one of the berries is poisonous and will immediately bore you to a near-death sleep that can only be conquered by true love’s kiss OR more alluring radio . In the shower, I tried on my best perfectly quaffed hair, newscaster voice and decided that there can only be one Peter Jennings and I was not he.
I sat in the green room and prayed that the ease of the clickety-clack of the keyboard translated into disarming and interesting conversation on air. I was not convinced I had the power of Greyskull or the sword to point into the lightening filled sky, but, I did have a coffee cup the size of my head. Close enough.
Despite my prom night nerves, once the light was on and my requested intro. music of Welcome to the Jungle blared through the room , I realized that AM radio just may be my second favorite medium to the page. No one can see me, I can’t see them AND, the likelihood of more than a lost trucker searching for information about local highway closures listening in was slim. This is perfect for us tortured writer types. All of the pontificating, the hopeful fame in our minds and none of the actual audience.
Luckily, the host was funny, kind, witty and easy to talk to. He veered us away from delving into a world of horrifying birthing stories and our escapades while surfing the web for photos of Jon Hamm’s penis. Thank you, Chris.
We didn’t even say vagina once on air. It’s a modern-day miracle. Move over printing press and penicillin, there’s a new appropriate mouthed Sheriff in town.
I shared the airwaves with one of the owners of the host store, Whippersnappers, and, with two of my co-authors, Brenna of Suburban Snapshots and Kim of Let Me Start By Saying. These are women and fellow writers I could listen to forever. I mean this in the creepiest way possible. *kisses framed photos of them and then applies red lipstick liberally to eyebrows*
I have several favorite moments. When Kim referred to a post about her ass. When Brenna, being oh so debonaire, said, “lady bits”. And, the very last few minutes of the broadcast when I offered to give away a copy of I Just Want to Pee Alone to the first caller and then no one called in. Because, nothing says I’m an internet and radio sensation like no one wanting the free shit you’re giving away.
So, until the next time no one is listening, this is Bad Parenting Moments, over and out.