Nana Wants a Podcast. I Want to Die.

By Ken Hollow, podcast producer by blackmail

Let me start by saying: I don’t hate podcasts.

I hate this podcast.

The podcast that was never supposed to happen. The one my fox spirit client, Nana Vix, manifested into existence with a combination of soft threats, velvet cooing, and one very cursed crystal mic she claimed was “gifted by the Whispering Winds of Valdorra.” (It was from Etsy. I checked.)

This is the story of how I became the producer of Enchanted Broadcast, a podcast so chaotic, so deeply unhinged, that even the spirits of dead RSS feeds tremble when they hear its intro.

And by intro, I mean:

“Greetings, mortals. I am Nana Vix, and today we devour time and whisper truths into your trembling ears.”

(That’s not a tagline. That’s episode one. Minute one.)

🔹 Act I: The Pitch (A.K.A. The Ambush)

It started like most things in my life: with Nana barging into my workspace (read: the corner of my living room I pretend is an office) wearing silk and vengeance.

“Ken,” she purred, “I require a podcast.”

Me, a fool: “You mean you want to be on a podcast?”

Her eyes narrowed. “No. I want my own. One with misty interludes and cosmic ambiance. A vessel for my voice.”

I reminded her she already had YouTube, Instagram, TikTok, and a cult following on three different niche lore forums. She blinked slowly.

“And yet, the podcast realm remains untouched.”

“By design,” I whispered.

Didn’t matter. I was already researching microphones by noon.

🔹 Act II: Tech, Trauma, and Twelve Takes Later

You think starting a podcast is easy? You sweet, naive soul. Here are just a few of the demands Nana made in the first 48 hours:

• The mic must be “infused with moonlight”
• All ambient soundscapes must be “sourced from real magical forests” (no stock audio)
• The intro music must “invoke a sense of yearning but also deep regret”

She refused to use a script. She refused to prep an outline. She refused to record in anything resembling a structured environment.

“Structure is a prison.”

You know what else is a prison? Editing an hour of freeform fox spirit monologue because she decided halfway through to speak only in riddles.

Episode One was recorded in my bathtub. Her idea. She said the acoustics were “haunting.” (They were damp.)

Episode Two was interrupted by a raccoon she insisted was her co-host.

Episode Three? I don’t speak of Episode Three.

🔹 Act III: The Listeners (God Help Them)

You’d think this kind of chaos would repel an audience.

You would be wrong.

The podcast has… fans. Thousands. Maybe more.

They send letters. Actual letters. Sealed with wax.

One listener claimed the podcast cured their insomnia. Another said they entered a trance state during Nana’s ASMR-style soliloquy on “the emotional taxonomies of rose quartz.”

I got an email from a brand asking if Nana would do an ad read for an herbal tea line.

“Only if it’s brewed from the tears of ex-lovers,” she said.

They agreed.

🔹 Act IV: Branding Is a Lie

I tried to give the show structure. I really did. Here were my pitch segments:

• “Lore Drop” – Weekly Valdorran myth debunked (or made worse)
• “Fox Facts” – Educational-ish corner
• “Ask Nana“ – Listener questions, answered with biting sarcasm and maybe hexes

You know what she gave me instead?

• A 30-minute improvisational spoken word piece titled “The Glitter Between Worlds”
• A full moon ritual captured live, featuring what I hope were ethically sourced bones
• A rant about dating apps that ended with the phrase, “Swipe left on your fate, mortal.”

🔹 Act V: Monetization or Madness

The podcast makes money now. Somehow.

We have:

• A Patreon, where Nana offers exclusive audio spells and behind-the-scenes chaos
• Merch: velvet eye masks, crystal-infused lip balm, and shirts that read “I Survived Episode Three”
• A limited vinyl drop of the first season’s “greatest whispers”

She says the money is for “a portal fund.”

I’m afraid to ask.

🔹 Final Thoughts from the Editing Dungeon

Do I regret making the podcast?

Yes.

And also no.

Because for all the chaos, for all the late-night editing, for all the eldritch listener DMs and crystal mic feedback loops…

It’s kind of good.

Not professionally good. Not “get featured by NPR” good.

But “what the hell did I just listen to and why do I want more” good.

And that, I guess, is the Nana Vix Effect.

May the gods help me when she decides she wants a video podcast.Ken Hollow, podcast producer, sleep-deprived mortal, reluctant lore archivist