On the radio

Being a writer is a strange existence. There really isn’t a better way to put it – I work in isolation, conjuring up things to say and commit them to paper. After hours, days, weeks of fretting you send it away and it’s gone. Like a child running away from home there is nothing you can do for the piece then – it’s on its own, forever. You sit at home and wait for the lag-time of submission to print to evaporate and then one day it comes to your door in a shiny, glossy version that once was only an idea floating around your head. If you’re lucky it looks cool and the editors have been kind to your precious words. The magazine or the book sits on the coffee table for a while and you do your best to subtly show it to your friends when they drop by for a coffee. Soon enough, the new issue hits the stands and the magazine slips into the shelf, to live in obscurity and in my memory.

Every now and again I get to experience the unbelievable feeling of hearing my song on the radio. This turn of phrase refers to the idea of seeing somebody actually reading my words and hopefully enjoying them. I’ll never forget some years ago walking into a bookstore to see a fella at the magazine rack reading a feature that I wrote in a climbing magazine. I peeked over his shoulder and a shiver went up my spine as I could sense that he was captivated by the words – my words. He was singing along.

It happened again today. I was in the bookstore and spied the new issue of SPOKE Magazine. The new issue of this New Zealand based mountain bike magazine happened to have a story of mine within it. My pulse quickened as I thumbed through the glossy pages to come upon page 24 and see my story; A Hard Day’s Night: How to make friends and punish people - by: Scott Kennedy. Cool layout, nice photo, spelled my name right, kept all my words – I was stoked.

Walking to the till I slipped the issue onto the counter and the young girl behind the register decided to say something a bit cheeky. “So, are you in this mag or something?” she had no idea who I was, I’d never seen her before and my reputation definitely doesn’t precede me.

“Yes I am actually.” She went very red and nervously pushed her hair behind her ear.

“Really? Wow, are you a pro biker or something?”

“No, I’m a writer, I have a story in this issue, and a picture too.” she stood up a little taller and smiled broadly as she handed me the magazine, my change and the receipt. I slipped it into my bag and started the trip home. That smile, the guy who was right into my story in the shop, some random dude who took the time to write a nice comment on my recent podcast – these are all nice little perks in an otherwise solitary world. Am I asking for an influx of gratification? No – but when it does happen, usually at the most unsuspecting moments it’s all the sweeter...

Check out my story in the latest issue of SPOKE – if you’re in En-Zed it’s in the shops now – elsewhere check out their site HERE.