John knew all of the tricks of the trade when it came to writing a good song. A musician at heart, and by trade, he did have to supplement his income by working at a local yacht storage , but his off time was spend with an instrument in his hand and a mic in front of his face. His job at the local yacht storage was a great gig because he was done by five oclock every day, leaving him time to get home and grab his gear and get to his performance for the evening, usually at one of the local bars in the college town of 150,000 where he lived. .He found ample places to play, and they were not all just open mic night, where just anyone could get up there and sing. He had been requested by someone to perform at one of his favorite blues clubs, and he still did not know who requested him. He had so much fun playing there that he hoped he got asked back very soon.
He loved blues and rock, funk and soul. He picked up an acoustic guitar when he was sixteen years old and he never looked back. He had never actually had a teacher, but over the years he had met many wonderful players, each one teaching him a thing or two about the instruments that they loved so much. He had a natural bent for remembering the things that these people had taught him, and at night he would practice until his fingers ached. He was so much better than most people knew, but he was never arrogant about his skill. He was just a normal guy who loved to play the guitar and write good songs. He would play them for anyone who wanted to hear them, but he would not play without being asked. Lucky for him, he sounded so good that people asked him to play all the time, which made him smile even though he was singing the blues.