Sarah Howells: Shy, quiet, giant nerd.

The most frequent question I get asked: 'How did you get a job at triple j?'

Ah, the big question. How. Did. You. Do. It. 

And this is even stranger if you knew me as a teenager. Shy. Quiet. Giant nerd. Definitely not in the cool crowd.

Well, I guess first we need to talk about how I found the music industry...

We've talked about how, at age fifteen I knew that I wanted to share music with people, right? The whole live music experience - it was like a drug. And actually the closest I’ve ever come to being addicted to anything in my life. I wanted to share the buzz. It was the one thing that made me feel like maybe I wasn't just a quiet nerdy nobody.

So when I found out that Grinspoon were playing an hour down the road in Lismore, I knew I had to be there. The organiser was supplying free buses to local areas, so I figured, why not to Murwillumbah too? My mum was my co-conspirator on this one - we called the organisers and convinced them that if we could prove there was demand for a bus they would do it. So, straight-A student, giant nerd, fifteen year old Sarah armed herself with a clipboard and a petition. Way to step out of that nerd bubble, Sarah. I was always super-shy, but when it came to music, I was willing to do anything. Even talk to the jocks on the football field. Yes. Even that. Shudder.

The good news? I got hundred of signatures. And we got that bus.

The bad news? About eight of us got on that bus. No one else showed. How embarrassment.

But the buses kept coming, the gigs kept coming, and I became the poster distributor and point of contact for all of the promo done in our town for those Humdinger gigs (great name, by the way.). I rallied representatives from the other schools and made sure more than eight people got on the bus next time. ;)

At the gigs, I was often the one dragging my friends to be the first to start the mosh pit. Self conscious Sarah took a step back while the passion for music took over. And I was adamant that we needed to get up in front of that stage for the support band - no hovering at the back until the main act!

Then the music moved closer to home. I got word that the local council was funding a group of young folk to organise all-ages gigs at the local Civic Centre. 

I wanted in. 

It took me a while of hovering and asking questions to make the cut, and when I did it wasn’t exactly what I’d hoped. I wanted to be booking bands, making decisions, stage managing! But that role was already taken. Of course. They did, however, need someone to help edit the newsletter. And so began my career in music journalism.

I wrote articles, designed the layout, wrangled contributors, took photos, and got a taste for street press. I’ve always loved the beauty of the written word. But I still wanted to be working with the bands. 

Eventually, the guy who was booking the gigs moved on, and I stepped into his shoes. It was an absolute dream come true. I was sixteen years old and booking monthly gigs with bands like Segression, Sunk Loto, Toe To Toe and a host of local bands from across Northern NSW and the Gold Coast. I was also the stage manager, headed up most of the marketing for the events, and continued to run the newsletter. 

If you ever lived in Northern NSW and went to a Counterpoint gig, thank you. We sold out every month, and it was so huge that we got shut down. Numerous times.

So that was four years of my life. But at no point was it my full time gig. You know why? Because I didn’t think it could be. And that was thanks to one absolute jerk of a careers adviser.

Mr Cleal, hello if you’re reading this. 

It was grade 10, and we all had to see this guy to work out what we wanted to do when we grew up. You know, because suddenly when you turn fifteen you have all of the answers. And actually, I did. I knew, without a doubt, one hundred percent what I wanted to do with my life. And so I told him.

“I want to work for triple j”

“Hah. Everyone says that. Be more realistic! You can’t do that!”

Bam.  My dream shattered. But… but… there WAS nothing else, nothing that drew me to it so naturally, so wholeheartedly, so inexplicably perfectly. I wanted to connect people and music. That was it. I was lost.

One thing you should know about shy, straight-A sixteen year old Sarah is that she never, ever questioned authority. If he said that’s the way things were, then that’s how they were. There was nothing else to it.

So I put aside any ideas I had of making money from music, or working for triple j. But you know what? I didn’t stop doing any of the music stuff. I knew, absolutely knew, that I’d always be doing it… I just assumed that I would be working some shitty day job and moonlighting, unpaid, in the music world.

So I continued organising gigs, in the Tweed Valley and on the Gold Coast. I wrote for street press from Byron to the Sunshine Coast. I did distribution runs. I headed up The Butterfly Effect street team in my region. I got a job as an Events Manager trainee, working on cultural festivals. I volunteered at Bay FM in Byron. I studied a Bachelor of Business, but did electives in Music Business and made every assignment I could about the music industry.

And, before all of that, before Mr Cleal burst my bubble, I wrote a letter to triple j. I asked the question: 'How can I get a job at triple j?' 

I still remember the day I got the reply in the mail.

I still have the letter. I’ll share it with you next time.