A few years ago a woman approached me after a concert. She explained that we had met about ten years earlier, and she had asked me to write some songwriting advice along with my signature on one of my old records. “Oh, no,” I said with a grimace, remembering how much worse my know-it-all tendencies used to be. “What did I write?” She smiled and opened the CD case. There it was in my handwriting, written with a Sharpie: Don’t write bad songs. —Andrew Peterson I blushed. “I’m sorry. What an arrogant thing to say.” “No, it’s okay,” she said. “You explained what you meant—that I should try hard
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