Raider.
I handed the notebook to Dan, filled with twelve songs. His eyes widened as he flipped through the pages, and I swear I could almost hear the gears in his brain grinding to a halt. Anxiety crept up my spine. This was the first time I had written songs based on my true feelings. No sugar-coating, no pretending. Just raw, unfiltered me.
He handed the notebook back like it was a live grenade. If he was reacting like this, I might as well start looking for a new career in accounting. Or maybe being a professional hermit. My last album went gold, but this one? I was gunning for something outrageous. A platinum dream, they called it. "Big dreams," they said. They might also say, “Big mistakes,” depending on how this played out.
“What do you think?” I asked, already cringing internal
