“Now that you’re off tour, what are you going to write about? No one wants to read about you going to the beach.”
Apt critique, to be sure, and even though I’ve written something everyday since January 1st, eight and a half months prior to the Allen Stone fall tour, I confess to feeling similarly incredulous. Am I now boring because I’m no longer subsisting on rider sandwiches?
And so commences the unknotting of the mind, the post-tour come down that every musician knows well.
The upsides of being a touring musician, I’d like to think, have been well represented via this newsletter, but one major downside is the deeply engrained fear that, regardless of how cool your band is or how many rooms you’ve sold out, next year will be as barren as the Sahara.
The key, I’ve found, is separating productive from non-productive worry. I am, for example, very depleted after this last tour, and in a place where you can yank papayas from every other tree. Now is not the time to be solving the world’s problems. Better to sleep, eat healthy, and celebrate family and friends, so when the time comes again to take up arms against the perils of mediocrity, I’ll be tanned, rested, and ready.