ABSTRACT
You’ve studied and written and played and sung and rewritten and rewritten some more. You have a fistful of songs and you’re thinking, “Man, these sound pretty damn good.”
Now what? Now the hard part, getting anybody else on God’s green earth to listen to them. Selling songs can be discouraging work. You send demos out to hot prospects, and
they get swallowed up by the Black Hole of Lost Demos. You plug a singer at a local club, and he says “No, man, the boss only wants me to sing songs everybody knows,” or she says, “Sorry, hon, I only sing my own originals.” You get out there and sing them yourself, and two ladies at a front table talk loudly about their cats. You make a CD and press a thousand copies. Fifty you give to pals and family, a hundred you send to record labels and publishers, and you sell ten a month at gigs. After a year you still have six hundred and forty-three left.
