Last night’s guest podcast was gracious while I fumbled like the jinxed person I am with audio technology and settings I cannot believe I thought I could learn when I started podcasting. Static, robotic voices, and “save me” phone calls to my podcast support person, another gracious human being who deals with my newbie crises. My cute studio space became a mess of cables on the floor and I crawled on my hands and knees between components, microphones, and my phone, working up a sweat because of what I now believe was a hot flash. Thank you middle age.
The finale of the evening was a Skype call with my gracious guest, whom I haven’t see in 29 years, who has not aged, and who got a head-on view of my chin and red face. I hate selfies, the angle is key to creating illusions of agelessness, and that call was an epic fail moment.
I have learned a new term since podcasting.
A face for radio.
I have it. Again, thank you middle age.
But, I wouldn’t want to be doing anything else. My podcast is my new love, because I get to connect with people I would never have been able to, to interact with people in a way that writing books all day prevents me from doing, and because I know that listeners will love their stories and feel the graciousness with which they put up with me.
Soon, podcasting will become second nature to me, as all things do with trial and error. Writing books was the same. So smooth, that I will not only bring amazing people to my listeners but also convince them how glamorous and cool I am behind the microphone – while I sit in my armchair in my pajamas with a fan on my face.