The Summer Radio Found Pepper

People ask me all the time how I got into radio.

My story is a little unusual because I was born into it. My father spent much of his career in broadcasting, so radio stations, personalities, promotions, and transmitter sites were part of my world long before I ever worked in the business myself.

Not everyone arrives in radio the same way.

Over the years, I’ve met people who found radio through a high school station. Some started in sales. Others were fascinated by engineering and technology. Some stumbled into the business completely by accident. Ask ten radio professionals how they got started, and you’ll probably hear ten different stories.

As I began writing Pepper’s story, I found myself asking the same question.

How did Pepper get into radio?

When Brandy Stone arrives at The Radio & Records Café and begins interviewing Pepper, she asks what seems like a simple question:

“When did you know you wanted to be in radio?”

The answer surprised me.

Because Pepper’s story doesn’t begin with a radio station.

It begins with freedom.

The summer of 1975.

A driver’s license.

A cousin named Ginger.

And a Southern California summer that suddenly felt wide open.

Ginger is two years older than Pepper and more adventurous by nature. Their mothers are sisters, and the girls grew up more like sisters than cousins. Once Ginger got her driver’s license, their world expanded beyond family gatherings, church activities, and school schedules.

Suddenly there were roller rinks.

Beach days.

Cruising Van Nuys Boulevard.

Concerts.

Amusement parks.

The kind of summer that feels endless when you’re fifteen.

At first glance, none of that has anything to do with radio.

But that’s what makes this part of Pepper’s story so interesting.

She wasn’t looking for a career.

She wasn’t thinking about ownership, management, ratings, or broadcasting.

She was simply paying attention to the things that captured her imagination.

At the roller rink, she notices how music changes the mood of an entire room.

On Van Nuys Boulevard, she begins to understand how everyone seems connected by the same soundtrack coming through their car speakers.

At the beach, she becomes fascinated by the energy surrounding a live radio promotion and the way a DJ can gather strangers into a shared experience.

Pepper doesn’t understand what she’s learning.

She isn’t collecting career goals.

She’s collecting clues.

And like most of us, she won’t recognize those clues until much later.

One of the things I enjoy most about writing fiction is exploring those moments that seem insignificant at the time but become important in hindsight.

Most turning points don’t announce themselves.

They don’t arrive with flashing lights and dramatic music.

They show up disguised as ordinary days.

A summer afternoon.

A favorite song.

A conversation.

A chance encounter.

A simple decision to say yes when staying home would have been easier.

Looking back, it’s easy to draw a straight line between where we started and where we ended up.

Living through it rarely feels that way.

That’s what Pepper is experiencing during the summer of 1975.

She thinks she’s having fun.

What she’s really doing is discovering pieces of herself.

And without realizing it, she’s beginning a journey that will eventually lead her to radio.

Next week, I’ll share a little about how these early scenes began to take shape and why writing Pepper’s teenage years unexpectedly sent me back to the music, memories, and Southern California atmosphere of that era.