The title came before the book was finished, actually I think the title was already present before I even started writing the first draft. Sometimes that happens, sometimes getting a title is like pulling teeth. Honestly, I prefer it the way it happened this time.
“Dead air” is a phrase most people associate with broadcasting. It's what most, if not all, broadcasters fear: the silence after a mic cuts out, those empty seconds where nothing fills the space. It’s awkward and unwanted. A break that shouldn’t be there.
But when the words came to me, they weren’t in the context of radio or performance. They arrived more like an instant thought, already carrying weight, already alive.
For me, the words "DEAD AIR" carry the whole book in two words. It's the hush that isn’t safe, the absence that breathes.
And if you know me, you know I’ve always been stubborn with titles. If one sticks, I know better than to ignore it. It sets the tone for everything else. DEAD AIR was exactly that.
So, once I named it, I knew the shape of the story. I knew silence wouldn’t just be background. And I knew I couldn’t escape it until the book was done.
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