About a decade ago, I landed a record deal and a songwriting contract – a dream come true for that sensitive teenager who just wanted to make songs. Little did I know, I was about to embark on a rollercoaster ride through the music industry that would challenge my identity as an artist and reshape my understanding of what it means to be a musician.

When we released my first single to radio, the label put me through media training. They taught me to keep conversations focused on my record and to tie my songs into whatever the radio stations were promoting. For instance, my single "Freedom Like This" would be brought up around the Fourth of July, even though it wasn't remotely patriotic. It was all about keeping things exciting and on-brand.

At first, I struggled with this. Was I selling out? Was I betraying that teenage dreamer who just wanted to express himself through music? I was trying to find the meaning of life in a song, but the industry wanted me to be "hot" and marketable, like "a Luke Bryan type." Don't get me wrong – I have nothing against Luke or his fans. It's just that the disconnect between my artistic aspirations and the commercial expectations was jarring.

My publisher, a great guy who had discovered legends like Kenny Chesney and Randy Travis, gave me some tough love. He'd listen to songs I'd poured my heart and soul into and declare them "the worst song I ever heard in my life." Ouch. But you know what? It made me stronger. It forced me to look at my work in context and understand the realities of the mainstream music industry.

Over the four years of my songwriting deal, I grew. I learned to stand my ground. I remember the day I told my publisher, "You must not get it," after he criticized one of my songs. The look on his face was priceless! But it led to a mutual respect. We realized that despite the 50-year age gap between us, music could bridge our differences. We'd listen to songs together, tearing up or giggling like teenagers.

Now, years later, I've come full circle. I've returned to the music that first inspired me – blues and rockabilly. It's amazing to see teenagers react to these classic sounds like they're hearing them for the first time. In a way, it validates my journey. I've learned that being true to yourself and your musical passions can coexist with understanding the business side of music.

This industry will ask you to throw yourself out there, to be vulnerable to criticism and judgment. But if you choose it, if you're ready for it, it can be an incredible ride. You'll grow, you'll change, but the core of why you make music – that never has to change. And who knows? Maybe someday, a kid will be in a car with their mom, singing along to your song, bridging generations just like music has always done.