NPR: ME, THE BOYLE, THE STROSS, THE EDELMAN, AND THE ACZEL
Stolen from this thread:
Charlie Stross, Jeff VanderMeer, David Edelman...TC Boyle. Amir Aczel. THEY LIVE.
....all featured in my upcoming report on economic genre fiction for National Public Radio Weekend Edition Sunday. It should run at twenty minutes before the end of the second hour.
If you miss it and even if you don't, go the NPR.org website, and pop over the Weekend Edition Sunday page. They'll have a link there to listen to and email the story. Should it get emailed enough, look for lots more SF&F coverage. This is, one must understand, not the usual NPR lineup. I have a great editor over there who really gets it, and more stories in the queue. Hope you enjoy it. There's more
information at my website, and I'll amend this thread with the URL for the RealAudio version / Email this story link once it goes up Sunday morning.
Thanks, Rick Kleffel
The Agony Column
Two somewhat funny things about this. I tend to get a little nervous doing radio and as a result don't drink coffee or tea or anything before I go on because it tends to make me burp, just because I'm not breathing naturally. This time I forgot that important fact, so, alas, Rick told me later they had to edit out my burps. Hee. (Evil Monkey: "That's disgusting.")** Second thing is, I was waiting in the local NPR studio for Rick to come on and was told he was running late, and as they begin to patch me in to the feed to Rick in California, I hear this kind of rapid-fire ghosting voice in the background. I'm like, hey, that voice is familiar, and that voice appears to be splicing chaos theory to economics to a little old lady in Topeka to the death of the dirigible to god knows what, and all at the same frenetic pace more familiar to an auction barker. Sure enough: it was Charlie Stross.
So: I'm fairly sure for every word of mine in the NPR thing there will be four from Charlie. LOL! In fact, I'm fairly sure my appearance is fairly brief in this piece. When you say stuff like, "I think it's important to have characters who you can imagine having to go down to the corner store to buy a gallon of milk," the subtext is kinda "I love to bore my readers with the mundane!"
Anyway, listen in Sunday if you're so inclined. I'm rather interested to see how Rick wove together all of these disparate writers into something coherent.
***Funniest moment ever on radio, for me, was Hour of the Wolf. First extensive radio I'd done. I was chugging coffee like you wouldn't believe because it's done live at four in the morning and I'd stayed up all night (Minz is partially to blame, among others). So I was burping due to nervousness like you wouldn't believe. Which I could cover while answering questions. But then I had to do a reading from Veniss Underground. Readings are a little tougher than casually answering questions. I couldn't turn away from the mike as much. To burp. So I had to read the long sentences fast and the short sentences slow so I could then turn from the mike long enough to burp and then get on with the next sentence. Luckily, no one noticed, not even the host (I think).
Evil Monkey: Why are you telling them this?
Jeff: I dunno. Cause it happened?
Evil Monkey: I'm ashamed for you. I really am.
Jeff: It's not even the worst radio moment for me.
Evil Monkey: Really?
Jeff: I mean, I really am fine on radio. The nervousness doesn't really show, I've found out. But...
Evil Monkey: Spill it. You've come this far.
Jeff: The first time I was on radio, I called in to a talk show about smoking. I thought the guests were really being stupid. So the production people asked me what my comment was. I told them. It was erudite and wordy, I'm sure. Then they put me on and I froze. I assumed a Southern accent, said, "I'm John Trinidad and I'm as stupid as you wanna be." And hung up.
Evil Monkey: Why in the name of all that's holy did you do that?!
Jeff: To this day, I do not know. Twelve years have gone by and I still don't know.
Evil Monkey: I'm not sure I want to know you.
Jeff: And then, when I got off the phone, I went outside and ran around the outside of the house three times, screaming at the top of my lungs because I could not believe how retarded I had been.
Evil Monkey: Do I know you? I don't know you. Who are you?
Jeff: I'm your bro...
Evil Monkey: Are you talking to me? Cause I don't know you, mister...