The keyboards glow in the dark, the microphone hangs over the desk, and Midnight Radio is playing on one of the screens. Above it all is a poster for the book. This is my broadcasting and drafting studio. There is barely room to turn around, but apparently there is room to build a radio station.
Off to the side, my son is sitting on a beanbag with his Fire tablet, playing a robot fighting game. He has questions. He has commentary. Neither requires a pause in the fighting.
Linda and I are working on the broadcasting software while my son supplies a running broadcast of his own.
On the desk is an old wooden pen holder with a collection of USB drives inside. We could use some extra storage for jingles and commercials, but before clearing the drives, I needed to see what I had saved.
I first found a draft of Midnight Radio from 2015. Then I found one from 2013, complete with my notes for future chapters. It is the earliest recorded draft I’ve found so far.
Then there was my project management PowerPoint from Sinclair Community College in Dayton, Ohio.
My stated goal was to get the book published and make money.
As a matter of fact, we didn’t set the world on fire, but I am proud to announce we raised $100 for the Childress Public Library. I will deliver the check and two hardcover books for them to check out to patrons on Monday.
Well, Dr. Pierce, I finally finished my project. I hope there isn’t a late penalty.
Dr. Patricia Pierce encouraged me when this book was still something I was trying to figure out. I remember her telling me, “The writing is good, but I have to ask you, do you know where the story is going?”
“Yes, ma’am, I do.”
I never forgot her or that question.
I also found an old email in which she thanked me for “herding and motivating the ‘cats’ into a performing machine.” That was about our group project. Between my current position and my time managing a radio station with five very independent DJs, it seems like herding cats has been my life’s calling.
I continually use what she taught me in project management. Writing a book, publishing it, building broadcasting software, and getting through a day at work all require some ability to organize people and get something finished.
But encouragement is the thing I most want to thank her for.
You can give someone a little of your time, tell them you see something worthwhile in what they are doing, and they may remember it for the rest of their life. She encouraged a student with an unfinished book. Here I am, fourteen years later, wanting to put the published copy in her hands.
I have been paying that forward ever since. Encouraging people is part of my life’s work. Sometimes someone needs help figuring out the next step. Sometimes they need to know somebody believes they can take it.
Dr. Pierce gave me that. I never forgot it.
I tried her old email address. It bounced. We’re still looking for a way to get a thank-you and a copy of the finished book to her.
Meanwhile, back at the circus, Electra and I were trying to connect our broadcasting consoles.
Through text.
I was waiting for her. She was waiting for me. We were trying to describe what we could see on two different screens and work out what needed clicking before the connection timed out.
Then we had to start again.
We also needed to set up a TURN relay. That helps the audio get through when the computers cannot connect directly. Apparently, asking two computers to talk to each other requires a third computer to introduce them.
I understand. Electra and I could have used somebody standing between us pointing at the buttons.
Alongside that work, we’ve been getting the Raspberry Pi station running.
I have wanted to do this for a long time. That is why I put the Pi in a case that looks like a piece of art. A vase, more or less. Something sitting quietly in the den that nobody would pay much attention to.
While it runs a radio station.
The Pi is an older model. Getting it going involved Ethernet cables, USB hubs, power adapters, and a password that appeared to do absolutely nothing when I typed it.
Linux hides the password while you enter it. No letters. No little dots.
Nobody told me that part.
I thought it wouldn’t let me type. Then I thought I had done something wrong. By the time we got logged in, I was fairly certain we had initiated the self-destruct sequence.
The network cable being unplugged at one point didn’t help.
Then there was the power problem. We tried adapters, checked the Pi, moved connections, and checked it again. Eventually, I changed out an old, worn-out power cord.
Naturally, all of this became a Star Trek comic.
Thankfully, we didn’t need three hundred thousand miles of USB cable. A better cord and the charging port on an Atolla powered USB hub got us further than my collection of questionable old cables had.
By bedtime, my son was listening to his dad’s show through the website.
That was what I wanted that night. We were testing the software, and my son wanted something to listen to as he went to sleep. The little machine in the den was doing its job.
Between broadcasting with Electra, getting behind the microphone myself, and working on the software, Midnight Radio has been keeping me busy. The book and the broadcasts come out of the same room. Occasionally, so does some language.
The November 5–7 library benefit has now ended. Thank you to everyone who bought a qualifying signed copy and helped us raise that $100. Thank you, too, to Sara and Summer for welcoming me and for the work you do encouraging readers.
And thank you to everyone who showed up to support me and the library. I won’t forget that. I’ll see you again on the next book-signing tour.
On Monday, I get to bring the library a check and two books.
All those years ago, I put publishing a book and making money into a class presentation. Now that book has helped me give something back to the library on the same road where I grew up.
I would like Dr. Pierce to know that.
“The wee old cable just ain’t what she used to be.”
—Scotty, through tears
Jerry Adams
midnightrad.io