I spent a Sunday afternoon listening to Robert Earl Keen radio and telling stories about concerts. His music has been part of the soundtrack of our lives for so long that the songs now carry places, people, and whole stretches of time.
They also made me feel like a poor songwriter.
Not discouraged. Humbled.
That same week, NSAI evaluators told me many of my songs are too long. Three minutes and thirty seconds is close to the practical limit if I want them heard seriously. A mentor also pushed me to move beyond polished AI demos and choose a few songs for simple human recordings, just a voice with piano or guitar, where the lyrics have nowhere to hide.
The advice felt connected.
Length can conceal weakness. Production can too.
A long song is not automatically undisciplined, and a short song is not automatically good. But every line has to earn its time. Every verse has to move. Every bridge has to change something.
So the next work is clear: tighten the songs, preserve what matters, and let a few of them stand nearly bare.
I am not where I want to be yet.
That realization did not make me want to stop.
It made me want to get better.