The Tip Line
Every case in Calloway Bay started with somebody who talked.
The desk sergeant won't take your call. The papers bury it below the shipping news. But the station — the station takes tips. A name overheard at a lunch counter. A light that shouldn't be on in a warehouse that shouldn't be open. A wedding ring in a pawnshop window three towns from the wedding.
Most tips go nowhere. Some become cases. That's not a slogan; it's how this station works. The writers' room reads everything that comes in, and when a tip fits the world — its era, its people, its unfinished business — it gets pinned to the corkboard and worked into an upcoming case. When that happens, the case file carries a credit: from a tip sent to the station — with your name or handle on it, if you want it there, or no name at all if you'd rather stay in the dark. In this genre, most people would.
Call it in
Send the station a tip
radio@endlessnoir.com — subject line: TIP
Keep it short — a sentence or three. The best tips are specific and incomplete: a detail that raises a question, not a plot that answers one. Tell us what you saw, not how it ends. And say what name to credit, or say "no name."
The rules of the room
Honest terms, stated plainly: a human reads every tip before the writers' room ever sees it — nothing goes from your email into the machinery unread. Calloway Bay is fiction set in the 1930s, so tips about real, living people won't be used. Send only what's yours to send: no copyrighted characters, no other people's stories. A tip is a gift to the fiction — if it airs, the credit is the compensation, and the case belongs to the canon like every case before it. No promises on timing: the world takes what fits, when it fits. That's the noir of it.