Just when did I get to the point when staying at a hotel wasn’t fun?

Where radio is different than fiction is that even mediocre fiction needs purpose, a driving question.

We’re Jews, my family, and Jews break down into two distinct subcultures: book Jews and money Jews. We were money Jews.

One reason I do the live shows – and the monthly speeches at public radio stations – is to remind myself that people hear the show, that it has an audience, that it exists in the world. It’s so easy to forget that.

In some theoretical way I know that a half-million people hear the show. But in a day-to-day way, there’s not much evidence of it.

When I say something untrue on the air, I mean for it to be transparently untrue. I assume people know when I’m just saying something for effect. Or to be funny.

But you can make good radio, interesting radio, great radio even, without an urgent question, a burning issue at stake.

But sadly, one of the problems with being on public radio is that people tend to think you’re being sincere all the time.

I suppose I shouldn’t go around admitting I speak untruths on the radio.

It’s not a terribly original thing to say, but I love Raymond Carver. For one thing, he’s fun to read out loud.

You’d think that radio was around long enough that someone would have coined a word for staring into space.

Just when did I get to the point when staying at a hotel wasn’t fun?

I think good radio often uses the techniques of fiction: characters, scenes, a big urgent emotional question. And as in the best fiction, tone counts for a lot.