Thanks to everyone who listened to my finished radio piece, Dave Day is Love in Action last night and wrote in. I’m touched! The music at the end was something Weinberg, our instructor extraordinaire, suggested and helped me a great deal with. It didn’t make sense to me at first. I had heard the piece so many times while producing it, I didn’t “feel” or process the entire arc of the story until the very end. So the idea to add a song to bring it all home eluded me. What should it be? How do you even start to think about that? It overwhelmed me, both the artistry and technical skills needed. But once I heard it, I wept. And then I got it.

I think that’s why this workshop was so important for me. I mean, could I read about all of these aspects of storymaking and try them on my own? Sure. But it’s just so much more fun and generative to learn in community, and have some experts show you on your laptop how to do things, and talk you through the artistic choices and decisions you can make. While Weinberg was putting some final touches on my piece in Hindenburg, I just stuck my face as close to my laptop screen as possible, watching his key strokes and trackpad changes, trusting that my eyeballs would deliver the information to some memory center in my brain. And that if I continue to practice through small projects I give myself, I too can learn these details and get better. A couple of things I learned at the end as I fiddled with levels of my various tracks was to isolate a track if maybe the tape isn’t great and I need to crank it up. And crossfades with ambi and music, lining tracks up right so everything flows and transitions aren’t abrupt. JHC, this is all going to take some practice, but I can’t wait.

I know everyone learns differently, but learning in person in a group is just such a huge accelerant. I need it, because I’m a people person. I was also thinking this week of all of the different ways I’ve defined learning over the years. I like thinking about this because it helps me come up with ways to explain learning to kids. One of the ways I thought about learning this week is — Learning is doing it scared, together. If you want to learn something and feel scared, find a bunch of people who are just as scared about it as you are and join forces. Transom did the work of finding these people for me. I have no idea what their selection process is, but they did an amazing job because I absolutely love everyone in my cohort and I think we’re bonded for life. Together, we make a perfect multi-track session. I know I’m going to see these people again, and I can’t wait for that either.

Last night at the listening party, many of us talked about how Bombay Beach, the ever-present silent partner in all of this, played a role in our experiences with one another and our finished pieces. And I really think the remoteness of the place, the fact that we all had to rely on each other for snacks, rides, wifi, showerheads, and workspaces throughout the week up-leveled the bonding and love significantly. We really helped each other, and everyone’s generosity contributed to this unbelievable sense of abundance in a place that doesn’t look like there’s much there. Which makes me think of Bombay Beach as a mirage of sorts. It looks scant, but that’s the illusion. In reality, it is a wellspring of abundance, neighborliness, originality, authenticity — a bunch of stuff this wounded country needs right now.

Last night at the listening party, we got a chance to talk about our pieces a little bit in front of the audience and Weinberg asked me a question about how interviewing Dave Day and working on this story made me think differently about my own work. And I really appreciated the question because it meant he was kind of observing us interact with our subjects and pieces throughout the week, so much so that he could surmise the thru-lines and connections we were all seeking as we wrote the stories. Or maybe Weinberg is just some radio psychic.

But anyway, this story did change how I feel about my work because it expanded my sense of possibility and filled me with that can-do spirit that’s felt diminished lately. The fact that Dave Day is undeterred by the challenges of bringing resources into the desert made me realize how much I stand in my own way sometimes by thinking and not doing, one tiny step at a time. How I get too heady about the work. Working on this story about someone investing time and care with abandon dislodged whatever has felt stuck these past few months.

My story also made me think about the importance of gathering in community, and how that’s the core work. It’s not programs, it’s not data, it’s not grants. It’s gathering.

And that’s one tiny part of what I’m thinking about right now. I’m going to probably add a bonus episode of this newsletter after the technically final one tomorrow because it’s going to take me more days to unpack and share what this workshop did for me and others. The short version is that it transformed me. I feel so much more courageous and ready to tell stories now, and so eager to get out there with my gear and be that audio dork. The fear is gone and I simply can’t put a price on that. I also have this incredible community of storytellers I’m a part of now, the most immediate being my Bombay Beach mates, all of whom are brilliant stars in the desert sky.

After the listening party, Jenny, Zach, and I walked into the desert to do some (safe!) trainspotting, and I swear we entered the simulation that girl was talking about on Day 1 when we were on the pier at sunset. You know, the one I thought was bonkers. Well, maybe I’m bonkers now because I felt something under the buzzing powerlines by the tracks. But maybe a scorpion bit my bottom and that’s what it was. Regardless, as the train flew by and its wind caught my dress, I felt weightless and free to dream in a way I hadn’t allowed myself to before. The desert — and radio — is magic.

You know when you fall in love and just know? Well, I fell in love with making radio this past week. Where do I go from here? More on this later.