Freelance Life: :Beginning a New Chapter

It's been some time since I've written. The truth behind this is twofold, actually. First, I really just have to own up to it: I'm terrible at keeping a regimented schedule. Now that I work for myself, my day is generally tied up in Deadline Triage, making sure the day's work is done and clients are happy. Posting on this blog becomes something less than secondary. I'm working on it.

Second, to be honest, there really hasn't been much to report. I've been in something of a Limbo of starting my business, making contacts, getting some podcasts and other projects going. Sure, I could have made mention of some of this, but it just didn't seem like to right outlet for it.

But, it's been nearly two years since I lost my job and began this new adventure, so I suppose it's time for something of a State-of-the-Union. A progress report, if you will.

A little background, in case you haven't been keeping track. I re-started my radio career back in 2007 or so, working for a small country station in Northern New York. It was a career move, but not a career maker. It was a stepping stone--and I knew it at the time. I had a plan in place, and that little station was my Way Back In. After a couple years there, I made the next major move in my career: I took over hosting the morning show at the biggest country station in the county--and, simply put, number One station in the area. It was a big jump, and a good one. But it was still a stepping stone. It was close to where I wanted to be, but I wasn't there yet.

I realized, at some point in my journey, that what I wanted, what I felt called to, was to be back in Christian Radio. I had some experience there, and loved it. I loved the ministry, the people... just about everything, and I wanted it again. The Family, a Christian Radio network in NE and Central Wisconsin and I found one another seven years ago. After much prayer and consideration, my wife and I decided it was the right move, the right time, and suddenly, I was exactly where I wanted to be. The Family was my career choice. It was where I wanted to stay, and when I said goodbye to radio forever, I wanted to retire from The Family.

I say this so you'll understand: When I lost my job, it wasn't simply losing a job. It was losing what I had literally spent years of my life working toward. It turned out, I was half-right about The Family being the ultimate place from which I would end my career in radio. It was indeed the end of my radio career as I had known it. It has taken me some time to come to terms with this fact. After over a decade in the industry I loved, after seven years as a morning radio host and five years working in a ministry I felt passionately called to, my career was over. Yes, I made an attempt here and there to kick it back into gear... but nothing was right. Nothing was that foot back I so desperately wanted. I had begun a new chapter in my life--and I knew I had done so--but that chapter wasn't even close to what I thought it was. The reality was, and is, I am done with radio as I know it. Or, perhaps more to the point, it is finished with me.

It occurs to me, I shouldn't have been as surprised as I was. Like all good stories, there was indeed some foreshadowing. Burgeoning interests in the creative aspects of voice work and writing that my career simply couldn't support. I had begun taking on side gigs, looking for something else to fill what was a slowly-growing void in my plans. If I should have been surprised by anything, it should have been this: that this position I had worked so hard to attain was not, could not be, enough.

I had studied film production. Was and am a writer. A creator. I have always been in love with storytelling. There was a time that the standard radio format had a place for storytellers. This is no longer the case. As I was coming into my own on a path I couldn't understand was slowly being overgrown with the underbrush of expediency, Radio as a format was leaving people like me behind. My last conversation with my General Manager and HR Director was merely the final nail in a coffin that was being built around my without my noticing it.

And so, a new chapter began. If you've been keeping up, you know something about that new chapter. The decision to go into business for myself as a freelance Voice Actor. The support of my amazing and ever-loving wife. What you couldn't know--because I didn't--was that even this hasn't been a destination itself, but a wandering in the wilderness. More steps to a future that is still uncertain.

But it--neither this chapter nor the last--hasn't been without its signposts. That growing desire to become the storyteller I wanted to be. A budding interest in telling these stories through audio. A fascination with, and love of, audio drama. Of writing. Even of acting. Of using my words and my voice to tell weave stories.

And so, just over two years after losing what I had thought of as my life's work, I see the end of yet another chapter--or rather, the beginning of another. Yes, I am still a freelance Voice Actor, and will remain so for the forseeable future. But is this my career? I don't know. I've recently begun branching out into podcasting and, even more recently, into podcast editing and consultation.

Thanks to my agent, I have even begun branching out into onscreen work. Acting, after a fashion, and have been advised to grow my skills in this area as well. Yet another signpost that nearly went by unnoticed.

Since losing my job in radio, I have acted in a short film, as well as multiple audio dramas (indeed, I had worked in several while still hosting my morning show). I have done voice work for multiple clients, including everything from commercial announcing to video narration, to voice acting animated characters.

All of which is a foreshadowing of this next chapter.

This Tuesday, I am driving out to Chicago to record my first paid, professional audio drama. A story written and produced by a man who has amazing credits in this field (co-writer of the Left Behind: The Kids audio series, a writer on the G.A. Henty audio drama adaptations, and others), it is called The Jake Muller Adventures. Not only am I blessed to work with someone with so much experience in this field, but my fellow actors and other crew on this project are amazing in their own right. I've been geeking out a bit for the last month with the knowledge that, among the actors in this new series is Adventures In Odyssey co-creator Phil Lollar(!). And there are others, too, who are amazingly credentialed, and among whom I am a neophyte in a room of masters. It is our hope that these episodes we're recording next week will be just the start of a phenomenal series, and I am overjoyed to be a part of it now, in its early stages.

Then, in early December, I am taking a supporting role in an upcoming independent feature film. I'll be detailing more about this as we move forward, but suffice to say, I am equally excited about this new venture.

The point is, I have made a discovery, and have rediscovered some old truths. First, a lesson relearned over and over again: God is good. I don't always know where I'm going or, as a favorite song says, what He's doing. But I know who He is. Sometimes I just need a reminder that I'm walking blind with a Guide who already knows the destination.

Second, a discovery: It's never too late to dream something new. The death of an old dream isn't the end if you're willing to keep dreaming. It's the end of the year, over two years after my dream died. I am forty years old. Yet, with my wife and children standing with me, with a God who loves me, I am starting over. I'm doing something new. I am beginning a new chapter. I don't know what it's about yet, but I can't wait to find out.

Unemployment: Day 2 Begins

I got fired Monday. Nobody made a big deal. It wasn't a blaze of Rebel DJ Glory. I simply got off the air, got called into a room with the GM and Human Resources and told that my services were no longer required. I was given the option to resign, but let's not kid ourselves, shall we?

I couldn't say anything. I packed my junk: books, CDs, notes from interviewees and listeners and coworkers, various accumulated knick-knacks -- put four years of my life back into my van and headed home.

And then I called my wife, got on the computer, and went into professional DJ mode: sent messages to colleagues and contacts and let them know I'd been shown the door and was now officially, for the first time in over nine years, "on the beach*." I searched radio jobs in the area (my wife has a great job, and moving isn't really an option) and updated my resume. Went outside, quietly celebrated my first ever firing (literally first ever) with a cigar, because it seemed like the thing to do, and prayed that God would show me what His plan was. Applied to two jobs that seemed like a good fit.

Those were my first four hours of unemployment. Things slowed down considerably after that.

Yesterday, my first full day of unemployment, was depressing. It was gray and rainy. My left hand ached with arthritis. I saw the kids off to school, which was nice, grabbed some coffee and... sat. I did manage to get industrious for a little while and went back into "unemployed professional" mode. Which mostly consisted of updating my LinkedIn profile and making contact with more colleagues to inform them of my newfound free agency. In a fit of aggressive optimism, went shopping for interview clothes and found out that if fat guys want dress shirts, we have to pay more than twice what "average" people do. So that was nice. My optimism dwindled swiftly.

Time moves differently when you're unemployed. When you have a job and are merely looking for an upgrade, you understand that job applications take some time to get into the right hands. That they have to be sorted, and gone over, and moved into piles. That it could take weeks before anyone even gets back to you with a "thanks but no thanks" or a "let's talk." In unemployment time, every phone call that isn't from a prospective employer is another reminder that you're waiting. Another reason to ask, "am I good enough?"

Because, no matter how big and strong your ego -- and in this business, they grow them pretty tough. Sampson tough. -- getting fired is a blow, and every minute you're not talking to someone who's telling you that you sound like a great fit for their organization just weakens it that much more.

And that's really what this all boils down to: Getting fired sucks.

Losing a job you loved, with people you truly enjoyed working with -- and getting the news from management you genuinely respect that you're just no longer a fit for their organization -- sucks.

So, it's 4am, the start of my second full day of unemployment.

I should be getting ready for work right now.



*("On The Beach" is a broadcaster euphemism for "unemployed." It... sounds nicer than it is.)

Pontypool: Postscript

Okay, so, in case you couldn't tell by my post from Monday, I'm unexpectdly enamored with the 2008 psychological/zombie thriller, Pontypool. As usual, when I find something I like, I research to the point of near-obsession. I discovered, for example, that there actually is a Drum Road in Pontypool, ON. I wonder if there's a church on it, which houses a small AM station. Hmmm.

Click for a larger view of the setting. (via googlemaps)

I also discovered that, appropriately enough, "Pontypool" was also produced as a radio play for BBC. The radio version is basically, an edit of the dialogue and sounds directly from the film. Right up until the end. The end of the radio play is actually quite different from that of the film. The new ending gives, perhaps, greater insight into the meanings in the film, and a closer look at what the epidemic is to those, in the movie, who suffer it. It's very well done and well worth giving a listen.

This discovery led me also to the discovery that the BBC actually has radio plays from around the world available for free listening online. Pretty cool, right?

Zombie Awareness Month Zombiethon 3: Pontypool

A few years ago now, I had the idea to create a webcomic centered on a radio station struggling to stay on the air during a zombie apocalypse. Somebody connected with the project at one point -- an artist I'd spoken with, perhaps -- asked if I'd ever seen Pontypool. I hadn't. And I didn't, until today.

I was gratified on two counts: First, though Pontypool is also set in a radio station, and during some sort of apocalyptic viral outbreak, it really is very different than what I had envisioned for my comic (and who knows: maybe it'll find its way out someday). Second, it was both completely unexpected and frighteningly compelling.

Based on the Tony Burgess novel Pontypool Changes Everything (which is now on my must-read list), this is by no means a traditional zombie film. It has, however, been added for reasons that will soon become obvious. In short, this film reminds greatly of the best in Stephen King, and is a phenomenal adaptation, to boot.

The film stars Stephen McHattie (Syfy's "Haven") as Grant Mazzy, a former shock jock, banished to obscurity in a basement radio station in sleepy Pontypool, ON. On his way to work, he's shaken by a strange incident: a woman, very underdressed for the weather, bangs on his car window. He rolls down the window to hear what she wants, and she disappears into the night, repeating his last words to her: "who are you?"

After he gets to the station, he pulls out some of old schtick to test out on his new audience, angering his station manager, Sydney Briar. In the meantime, events are unfolding in the outside world. Soon, a call from their man on the street informs Mazzy and Sydney, along with show producer Laurel-Ann, that strange things are happenig in the outside world. People are, in short, going a bit insane. At first, it looks like a protest, then a riot. Then, as the situation worsens, people begin eating one another.

At least, that's how it sounds. Mazzy isn't certain he's not being screwed with, until he ventures outside and attracts some very unwelcome attention. Turns out, it's exactly as bad as it sounds, and possibly worse.

Pontypool is brilliant in many ways. On a visceral level, it is a study in isolation and helplessness. The claustrophobia becomes a tangible thing as you cannot help but feel the fear and frustration of Mazzy and company as they listen to the events unfolding, aware only of the information trickling in through the phonelines and unable to actually do anything about any of it. On the one hand, it is reminiscent of the infamous "War of the Worlds" radio play, except that here, you are in the room with McHattie's DJ, uncertain with him as to whether he's going insane, or if he might just find a way out of all this.

The tension is about as tight as can be throughout. Stuck inside this dark basement, you have no idea of what could happen to anybody at any given time. Because of events throughout, you become aware of the precariousness of their situation which only heightens the suspense.

There are, to be sure, other levels here. Deeper meanings. As the movie progresses, these deeper meanings are brought out of the shadows and highlighted as part of the plot. So I'm not going to go into them here. Got to leave you with something to figure out on your own, right?

Scary, entertaining, and cerebral, Pontypool easily makes it to my list of all-time greats.

Sometimes, I love the heck out of my job: Ontario craft beer edition

The crew and I left work early today so we could do a couple remote broadcasts in Eastern Ontario.  Today's stops: Kemptville Ribfest and Thousand Islands Wine and Food fest.  Which, to me, meant two basic things: award-winning ribs and local craft beers.  Excellent food was eaten.  Several coasters were collected (a weird obsession I developed at last year's Wine and Food fest), and much beer was tested (or revisited.  Often). 

And so, because this blog is, at least partially, about beer, I figured I'd run down some of my favorites from the event.  Sadly, I wasn't able to taste every offering from every brewer: samples were purchased with tickets, and I just didn't have enough to sample every flavor.  Instead, I went with my personal tastes, and chose based on what seemed like would fit those tastes. So, that said, let's start with my favorite of the night, and work down.

Best beer of the event goes to a new brewer, Gananoque Brewing Co., with their Train Wreck Strong Ale.  The rep from the brewer called this the Charlie Sheen of beers, and while I don't expect it to start dating hookers and go on a whirlwind tour of trashtalk, it is a little more than you bargained for.  Train Wreck is a dark and hoppy ale with a bitter kick you don't quite expect.

The exhibitors offered their samples alongside free samples of a chili made from the beer.  The two complimented one another perfectly.  While you don't need the beefy chili to enjoy the ale, I do sincerely hope they start packaging the beer with the recipe.  It made the presentation that much better, and really set them apart from the other brewers. 

Coming in a close second, Mill St. Brewery, with their Tankhouse Ale. Already gaining popularity, there were more Mill St. cups left lying around than any other brewer's.  And this is their first year at the festival.  That has to say something.  The Tankhouse is brewed from five different malts, pours a deep copper, and blends the yeast and hops into aromatic magic. 

Mill St. also offered samples for a single ticket, which practically ensured repeat visits.  And yes, I went back.

I won't pretend I know enough of the terminology to sound like an experienced brewer: I don't.  So, I can't tell you about notes or nose... or really much beyond color and how it tasted to me.  It'll come with time.  In the meantime, I'm certainly planning a return trip to Ontario... I understand the ICBO keeps the Tankhouse in stock. 

At number three, Creemore Springs.  I was introduced to Creemore last summer and became an instant fan of their delightful Kellerbier.  A German-style, unfiltered beer, Kellerbier is hoppy and flavorful, with a citrus aroma.  I was surprised to find that this beer is canned, rather than bottled, which I suspect to be more about presentation than any practical usage.  When your only exposure to canned beer is your uncle's Whatever-was-cheap, it's hard to let go of those instant prejudices.  But this cloudy, golden beer is well worth getting rid of those preconceived notions. 

If my constantly faulty memory serves correctly, I've also tried Creemore Springs' Pilsner and urBock (I believe they had a bottle or two left, for those who were daring).  Like many local brewers, Creemore doesn't make a bad beer.  But if you've never tried a traditional unfiltered beer, the Creemore Kellerbier makes a darned fine introduction.

I'm still new enough to all of this that I'm not really ever sure what to expect of a brewer's flagship offering.  I guess I'm having trouble getting used to the fact that craft brewers don't seem to have an interest in competing with the watered-down stuff you find at the convenience store.  People who want that, want it.  People who have tried a decent craft beer, I've found, will rarely go back to the corporate brewers.  And that brings us to our number four, Beau's Lug Tread Lagered Ale. 

The first time I saw the Lug Tread, images instantly came to mind of the standard canned fare that kept me away from American corporate beer for my entire life.  I should explain that, as a rather pretentious college student, I had no desire to drink the same watered-down stuff fed to the proles.  I was convinced that dark ales and stouts were of more literary stock.  Were more worthy.  Because of this, pale and golden ales held no interest for me.  And then I saw it's beautiful hue, sunshine gold, with just a whisp of white foam.  I saw the sweat on the plastic cup, and licked my lips, wondering why I'd never tried such a wonderful-looking brew. 

Put simply, Lug Tread is not your standard 6-pack fare.  The Lagered Ale, the flagship beer of Beau's, is crafted to quench thirst, but to do it in a way more memorable and pleasing than the stuff in the refrigerated section at 7-11.  The logo of Beau's is a tractor -- an acknowledgement that this is a beer for the hard worker.  The guy coming in out of the sun.  It's best served cold, as an acknowledgement of the refreshing flavors worked into the brew, and all-in-all, it's a darned good beer.  The reason -- the only reason -- it didn't end up higher on my personal list is that, for me, it's a beer I have to be in the mood for.  Though it's crafted as an everyday beer -- and probably is exactly that for many -- it's simply not the sort of thing I'd take out of the fridge at any given time.  Maybe it's because I still favor the heavier, darker ales, and the Lug Tread is so light.  But whatever the reason is, I also know that, when I do have that urge to pull the stopper on the long bottle, and to poor it into a chilled glass, I will enjoy the Lug Tread with all the gusto of a life-long fan.


Yes, by the way: I did notice that I spent more words on each beer, the lower it was on my list.  I suppose that with beer, like people (and food), my first tendency is to simply enjoy it.  And if I enjoy it less than another, then I suppose it is that, and not my original enjoyment, which must be justified.

Paul Harvey... Good day!

Harvey received the Medal of Freedom in 2005.

It was on this date in 1976 that Paul Harvery launched his successful news spinoff, "The Rest of the Story."  So, I thought it was only appropriate, on the official "The Rest of the Story Day," to pay it our respects.

I literally grew up on Paul Harvey's radio program, and in fact would call it one of the two most significant factors in my ultimately becoming a broadcaster. 

My dad owned a '72 Oldsmobile Cutlass -- ugly, matt gray-green Rolling Awesome -- with the original AM-only stereo.  My memories associated with this car include fighting with the small front window, struggling to get the door open, and listening to talk radio with my Dad.  The interior was an aromatic blend of spilled coffee and dead moths, but I loved those drives, listening to Paul Harvey (or Rush Limbaugh) and having conversations with Dad about the things we were listening to.

Also, at least it was in better shape than this one.

 The news would come on, and then, Harvey's distinctive, homely cadence as he introduced us to "the Rest of the Story."  And I would wait through the entire story, for the identity of the story's subject, for that little twist of the familiar.  And then came "page two," and before you even knew what was happening, Harvey had woven such an engaging and interesting story that, by the time he told you about the Bose speaker system he was pitching, you were ready to buy a dozen of them -- and you still weren't sure whether he was actually selling them or if they just happened to be part of the story. 

I mourned with many when Paul Harvey passed away in 2009, and I'll never forget him.  I'll never forget that old piece of crap car, held together as much by rust as by metal, or those afternoons with my Dad and that AM radio.