I’ll be honest. Until this week I had nearly zero knowledge pertaining to the digitally downloadable, audibly arousing message, otherwise known as a podcast.
I could lie. It would be easy. But I’ll save the deliberately inaccurate fallacies for a future post.
Prior to this week my experience with creating and listening to podcasts was comparable to my ability of successfully tying a tie. Both equally embarrassing.
I make the association because I see both as vital skills for a future in public relations.
My excuse for the podcast is that the term wasn’t even coined until 2004 and for the tie thing, well I said I wouldn’t lie so we will just move on.
This week was my awakening to the beauty of a podcast. To avoid the cliché of a kid in a candy shop, which I incidentally just used, it was sincerely exciting.
The potential to hear stories with podcasts is almost limitless, which if you are keeping score at home is one of my favorite things in this world.
An early front-runner for my utmost affection is NPR’s StoryCorps. The podcast is a part of a nonprofit oral history project, which has already archived some 30,000 stories of American life.
Without any preconceived notions of the necessity of Hollywood production value for a good story, StoryCorps achieves something rare in our oversaturated world of unnecessary expletives and cat pictures with captions.
StoryCorps is simple. StoryCorps is genuine. StoryCorps is worthwhile.
I am a collector that goes through a time-proven routine. Case-in-point: my abundance of button-down shirts.
When I discover a new joy, I tend to stock up beyond the point of sufficiency. Eventually the luster wears off, the obsession evolves into appreciation and my interest is at a normal level. Well normal for me at least.
In a mere matter of hours following the commencement of my podcast search, my iTunes account was subscribing to more than ten storytelling-related podcasts.
There is only one issue now; finding the time to listen to them all.