I've subscribed to a boatload of magazines in my life - I graduated from Tiger Beat in the late 60s, to Seventeen, then Glamour and on and on and on.
For the past couple of years I've enjoyed every delicious issue of Performing Songwriter magazine. The publishers promoted indie artists, provided incredible Behind-the-Song stories of old favorites and pages of encouragement and advice. I devoured it from cover to cover - I save them, I share them. The writers and editors understood what I do and why -- and that doesn't happen very often. At least not to me.
A note in my mailbox this morning announced the last issue has just been published. I feel like I'm losing an old friend. I hate that. But I suppose I will begin looking for another way to get that monthly validation and support.
Read more here.