I (state your name)...

This isn't my first blog. I used to write "Don't Print This." I did a limited run blog about Fraggle Romance called "Fraggle Love" --that one you can still read, but I've packed "Don't Print This" up, at least for now.

I don't necessarily advise anyone read "Fraggle Love." It contains semi-graphic muppet sex and is just bad... bad.

Me doing an actual radio show sort of came from out of the blue and I was cynical about it from the beginning.

"The boss wants to see if we can do some local programming," my boss said. "Send me your ideas."

I kind of put it off, but then we kept having talks where we discussed automation and how our hours as part-time announcers would or would not be cut. Honestly, nobody knew.

"If you've got any ideas," she said. "We should talk about them."

I panicked. I kind of need the work just to keep up with expenses. I don't necessarily want to work two jobs, but it's that or live under a bridge.

I pitched two ideas: One was a series of specials for October about odd, unusual, spooky, weird stuff in the state.

That seemed like the best bet, actually. I'd done that and it seemed like it involved the least amount of stress to the system.

She didn't much like it.

The second one was to do a music show with some interviews. The music would be alternative and independent type rock and country. The original pitch was broad and nebulous and could mean almost anything --but it got me on base.


"What would you call it?" She asked.

I had no idea. I really had no idea. Usually, I'm pretty good with giving things names, but I bombed at this. I tried a couple of different things and each time I asked someone what they thought, they'd make a face like I'd passed gas. Nothing worked and because nothing was working, the pilot wasn't getting made.

You can't make a show without a name. The title is the thing. It had to at least say what it is to the person who is trying to create it.

It's funny: a couple of months later and I can't remember any of the names I came up with. All I remember is I had two bad ones nobody much liked and then Jim said, "I've thought about it. What about 'Lost Highways?'"

I could see the words in my head on a black background; the script written in a dirty white the color of faded headlights. I could feel the mood of the show --late night radio with darker, grittier music that shouldn't get played much during the day. The delivery, however, would be relaxed, friendly; like what you'd hope to get from the guy in the dirty shirt pouring coffee at an all-night diner.


I loved it.