radio writes stories

Go into the arts. I’m not kidding. The arts are not a way to make a living. They are a very human way of making life more bearable. Practicing an art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow, for heaven’s sake. Sing in the shower. Dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possibly can. You will get an enormous reward. You will have created something.
—  Kurt Vonnegut
10

David Tennant and The Proclaimers

Spanning David’s first meeting with the Proclaimers to them presenting him with a special National Television Award.

Excerpt from the Graham Norton Show “Uncut” (April 2007)

Graham Norton:  You were in a fantastic video, the Proclaimers video
David Tennant:  I was
GN:  …and of course the Proclaimers are going to be playing for us in a few moments. They’re here.  The Proclaimers are in the building.  Was it all filmed in one day?
DT:  No!  I got a phone call… Matt Lucas phoned me up and said, “I’m gonna do this thing.”  He knew I’m a big Proclaimers fan.  He said, “Oh come along.  Join in.”  I said of course I will! I’ll get to meet the Proclaimers! But they’d been and gone when I turned up!  They’d filmed their bit, and I’m just stuck with Johnny Ball and Rod, Jane, and Freddie up the back!  And Dusty Bin.  Not that there’s anything wrong with them, they’re lovely people (especially Dusty Bin), but I was devastated.  So to find that tonight I might actually get to meet the Proclaimers… I’m a little bit over-excited.
GN: I hate to break it to you, but we did tape them in the afternoon.  They’re not here.
DT: <long pause> I wouldn’t have a sense of humor about that.
GN: They are here, they are here.  Don’t worry.

April 2017 - edited to add:

The arts are not a way to make a living. They are a very human way of making life more bearable. Practicing an art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow, for heaven’s sake. Sing in the shower. Dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possibly can. You will get an enormous reward. You will have created something.
—  Kurt Vonnegut, A Man Without a Country.

Promnis AU: Zombie Apocalypse                                                                   ↳ “Hey! What are you, blind? The dead are everywhere. Get in here now!”

Dazed and confused, Ignis ran towards the blonde haired man and into the safety of the building before the metal shutters closed. 

“Thank you,” said Ignis in a wheezing voice.

“Were you scratched or bitten?” the blonde man demanded.  

Chapter VI

5 days. That’s how long it took for me to sort out everything and move in my new place. My first apartment. It felt good to finally be on my own. There was no one I had to count on. It felt liberating and scary at the same time. I was sad and yet happy. Excited yet nervous about whether or not I will be able to survive on my own.

I had lived alone before, when my dad worked in different country and I had to stay and take care of the house while he was away. I was just 14 years old, but I cooked, cleaned, mowed the lawn in summer, and shovelled the snow off the driveway in winter. I did all of that, and still found time to study, do homework, meet friends and go to choir.

Still, this was different. This was me being always alone, responsible to cover my own rent, expanses and basically everything that comes with surviving.

Even though my dad told me to move out, he didn’t seem too happy about the fact, that I was actually moving. Something in his eyes told me he is sorry that I have to go. Maybe it was this bird thing. You know, the “empty nest” syndrome parents experience when they’re children are leaving home. But it couldn’t be that, because he had a step daughter and baby son he had to take care of.

For a moment I thought he was feeling sorry for me. I thought maybe he is going to tell me that he loves me no matter what and I can come home whenever I want, but he just hugged me and drove away after he helped me to carry all of the boxes to my new apartment. It has been two weeks in my new place and he hasn’t visited nor has he called. But I didn’t sit around and cry about it. I was used to my father not showing his emotions or true feelings. If it ever happened it was either really good or really bad. Instead of twisting my head around the questions about why my father is the way he is, I was busy trying to make this new apartment feel like my apartment.

I bought some cute lights to put near my bed, put some pictures up on the wall, bought a house plant. I tried my best to make the best with the least, meaning, that my budget was tight and I was thinking more and more about finding a new job. Which leads me to starting radio dj classes.

I always liked radio. I always thought I would be good at working at a radio station. Not the one I was working in now, writing news for a homepage nobody was really reading. But working as a radio dj. So when a few days before moving I saw that there were classes for radio dj’s, I knew I had nothing to lose. This would be a great chance to do something I always wanted to and it would also help me get out of the house more often.

More or less it was everything I wanted it to be. The classes happened at a radio station which basically was competitor to my workplace, but since I wasn’t there on a mission sent by my boss or anything, but just for myself, nobody seemed to mind. Actually people there were more than eager to tell me how bad my workplace is. I hated my job there, but still, it was my workplace and I didn’t like hear other people saying bad things about it. I imagine it to be a lot like when having a sibling: only you get to call them stupid.

At first I thought nobody liked me in my group. My current job was probably one of the reasons. The other reason, I’m guessing, was that teacher liked me.

His name was James and he had been working as a radio host for many, many years. He was one of the most interesting and approachable people I had ever met. At first he seemed tough and like he didn’t want anything to do with us, but after first three lessons he started to show his real self.

He was positive and very intelligent. He had a calm voice even when you did something wrong. Basically he was a really, really good mentor, and I liked being around him.

After the first three lessons, we started to have private lessons – an hour where there’s just you, the radio and him. First we would work alone recording a fake radio show for about half an hour and then he would listen to it together with you and tell you what needs to be improved, what was good, what was bad etc.

If at first I was super scared… that even doesn’t come near to what I was actually feeling, to be honest. I was close to having a heart attack. I thought about dropping out of the classes so much. As usual I thought I was not gonna be good enough, that I was wrong, this wasn’t meant for me. My voice sounded terrible on the record, I sometimes stuttered trying to find the better way of saying things I wanted to say and, in addition, I thought the teacher didn’t like me at first. It all happened before I actually sat behind the set and turned on the mic. As usual I was criticising myself before I knew the outcome.

- So how did it go? – James asked after I finished my first training radio show.

- I suck at this, - I replied.

- That bad? – James’ eyebrows lifted. He seemed he predicted me to fail. He didn’t feel sorry for me. He seemed like he expected nothing out of me. – Let’s take a listen and hear for ourselves.

The minute I heard my voice on the record, I thought: “This is it. This is how I’m going to die. From embarrassment. Why the hell did I sign up for this? I must have totally lost my mind.”

- Hmm, - James let out a sound and looked confused and surprised at the same time.

- What? – I asked hiding my face in my palms wishing death would come sooner. I sounded like someone who shouldn’t even be allowed to open her mouth. James’ silence was killing me. He looked baffled. Like, he didn’t know how or what exactly to tell me. It only meant it was really that bad.

- I… - he gave me a concerned look. – I thought it was going to be worse.

“The hell did you just say?!” I was shocked. “Does that mean I don’t completely suck at this?”

- I… I’m sorry, - he gave a little nervous laugh. – When I first heard you speak in real life, I thought your voice was way too squeaky for radio. You sounded like a little child.

“Okay, I got excited too fast. This is no compliment, he’s calling me a child now,” I thought to myself, while feeling my cheeks getting redder and redder with every second. I couldn’t even look at him, so I looked at my shoes. Just like a fucking child.

- But you actually have a good, steady voice, - he finally said smiling.

- I do? – I was shocked beyond belief.

- Yeah, - he laughed again that little nervous laughter. What the hell was he nervous about?! I was the one being judged. It was my future dreams he was considering and weighing now. This must be how people on “The X Factor” feel like, when Simon Cowell gives them his opinion. – I’m guessing you were just nervous the first time we met, that’s why your voice got high and squeaky. Am I right?

- Erm, maybe, I don’t know, might be, yeah… - I mumbled looking back down at my shoes again embarrassed.

- Happens to the best of us, - he replied and kept listening to my recording.

- Really? – I said in a sarcastic disbelief. – Does your voice also gets high and squeaky when you’re nervous?

- No, - he replied and gave me a look like I just had asked the most stupid question possible. – I start to talk faster and stutter.

Somehow it was hard to believe that this man with gorgeously low and steady voice, could even get nervous. In radio host terms speaking he had the voice a listener would want to have sex with. I’m not making this up, this is an actual thing between radio people. Some people have good voices that can go on air and attract listeners. But some people have voices listeners imagine having sex to. And that’s the voice you want on your radio. And James had a voice like that.

- You’re voice isn’t perfect, - James continued the judgement making me feel my soul and spirit crush. – But we can work on that.

- How? You will make me smoke cigarettes to make it lower? – I laughed.

Didn’t seem like James liked my sarcastic tone and self-doubt.

- No, - he replied with a tired sigh and a look that a teacher gives to a student who is really annoying him. – Actually I think you just need to be more relaxed when you’re behind the mic. Try to smile more. And not from the outside, but also from the inside. Listeners can feel that. Try to flirt a little with the listener…

- Oh, ha, I can’t flirt, - I burst out half laughing at him even suggesting the idea. Needless to say I immediately regretted my reaction.

James became silent again, scanning me with his calm look. It really felt not only like he was scanning me from head to toes, but like he was trying to read me, look inside my soul. Suddenly I felt a panic rising in my chest, I felt trapped like an animal. I wanted to get up and just leave, and never come back. I wanted to hide from him. It wasn’t that he was scarring me or anything, it was just that it all felt… too intimate. Not in a sexual way, but in a way when a stranger is starting to get to know the real you without you even telling him anything. I bet this is what people who go to see fortune tellers or astrologists are feeling like, when someone random is just knowing them better than they know themselves.

I tried to hide my panic, steady my breathing. I pulled my palms into fists trying to conceal the urge to nibble my fingers as I do when I’m stressed.

- Now that I don’t believe, - he smiled and kept listening to my recording.

That was something I had heard before. With me a lot of guys usually assumed that I’m taken or I just think I can be with someone better than them. At least that’s what people who actually knew me told me. Apparently I looked like someone who knows her worth, who is not gonna settle for less, who is not gonna pick the first one on the horizon. Only it was not all that true.

Sure I wasn’t jumping in bed with first guy who showed some interest. Actually, I wasn’t even going on a date with someone, if I didn’t feel the slightest appeal towards them. But at the same time I wasn’t expecting a gorgeous prince on a white horse. During past couple of years it was hard to understand if I’m really expecting anything. Somehow I just kept telling myself that I need to learn how to be alone and in love with myself – you know, the stuff you read in books that are supposed to help people like me feel better, be happier, live better. And still, I wanted to be loved and to love so badly I sometimes worried I would really jump in bed with the first person who show on the horizon. Only the problem was, there was no one on the horizon.

- A very huge plus is that you have an amazing taste in music, - James brought me back from my thoughts about how bad at flirting and falling in love I am. – Of course, nowadays radio hosts can rarely pick their own music, because everything is computerised and planned days before, but still… It’s a very good thing if a radio dj has good taste in music. And you do.

While he was saying that The Beatles’ song “Here Comes The Sun” was playing. Before that I had played OneRepublic, Bastille, Ed Sheeran, AC/DC and David Bowie. The minute The Beatles’ song ended, Coldplay’s “A Head Full Of Dreams” started playing.

- Oh yeah, you definitely have the right style and sense of a radio host, - James banged his fingers along the music.

- Are you saying that only because you like Coldplay? – I sounded sadder than I wanted to be, because there was no reason, he finally had said something really comforting. Something that I took as a compliment. Music was everything to me, and not a lot of people seemed to understand that.

- I do like Coldplay. I have been at their concert, it’s amazing, - James smiled remembering the concert. – But Coldplay is also a really radio friendly band. Their songs have long intros and outros, which is good for radio hosts, because we can use those to talk longer. The same is with more or less with every classic rock band, like, The Beatles or AC/DC which you also chose to play. And David Bowie. I love Bowie.

“Of course, you do,” I thought to myself feeling a smile forming on my face and embarrassment starting to fade.

Talks about music were the one thing that brought me and James closer. We could talk about it and get so carried away, that he sometimes forgot to listen to my recordings. In time we also started to talk about movies and TV shows, concert experiences and more usual things, like, work and weather, cars and home life, animals and technologies. In other words, we started to form a friendship which really helped me get through most of my days.

James kept encouraging me to pursuit my dreams and keep working hard on becoming a radio host. I kept him recommend new music, interesting movies I had just watched and made him feel better after a long and hard day at work by telling funny stories. It was nice having a male friend, who is older and wiser, and with who you have so much in common. Plus, he liked coffee just as much as I did.

If you want to really hurt you parents, and you don’t have the nerve to be gay, the least you can do is go into the arts. I’m not kidding. The arts are not a way to make a living. They are a very human way of making life more bearable. Practicing an art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow, for heaven’s sake. Sing in the shower. Dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possible can. You will get an enormous reward. You will have created something.
—  Kurt Vonnegut
The arts are not a way to make a living. They are a very human way of making life more bearable. Practicing an art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow, for heaven’s sake. Sing in the shower. Dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possibly can. You will get an enormous reward. You will have created something.
—  Kurt Vonnegut
Go into the arts, I’m not kidding. The arts are not a way to make a living. They are part of a very human way of making life more bearable. Practicing an art, no matter how well or how badly, is a way to make your soul grow, for heaven’s sake. Sing in the shower. Dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possibly can. You will get an enormous reward. You will have created something.
—  Kurt Vonnegut
The arts are not a way to make a living. They are a very human way of making life more bearable. Practicing an art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow, for heaven’s sake. Sing in the shower. Dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possibly can. You will get an enormous reward. You will have created something.
—  Kurt Vonnegut, A Man Without a Country, 2005
Go into the arts. I’m not kidding. The arts are not a way to make a living. They are a very human way of making life more bearable. Practicing an art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow, for heaven’s sake. Sing in the shower. Dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possibly can. You will get an enormous reward. You will have created something.
—  Kurt Vonnegut

“Go into the arts. I’m not kidding. The arts are not a way to make a living. They are a very human way of making life more bearable. Practicing an art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow, for heaven’s sake. Sing in the shower. Dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possibly can. You will get an enormous reward. You will have created something.”

–Kurt Vonnegut

If you want to really hurt you parents, and you don’t have the nerve to be gay, the least you can do is go into the arts. I’m not kidding. The arts are not a way to make a living. They are a very human way of making life more bearable. Practicing an art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow, for heaven’s sake. Sing in the shower. Dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possible can. You will get an enormous reward. You will have created something.
—  Kurt Vonnegut, A Man Without a Country
If you want to really hurt you parents, and you don’t have the nerve to be gay, the least you can do is go into the arts. I’m not kidding. The arts are not a way to make a living. They are a very human way of making life more bearable. Practicing an art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow, for heaven’s sake. Sing in the shower. Dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possible can. You will get an enormous reward. You will have created something.
—  Kurt Vonnegut
The arts are a very human way of making life more bearable. Practicing an art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow, for heaven’s sake. Sing in the shower. Dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possible can. You will get an enormous reward. You will have created something.
—  Kurt Vonnegut