In the middle of a recording studio, on a cold January night in the midwest, a young little artist just finished his final verse for a new song. 

He loved it. “I killed this s**t”, he thought. 

He wasn’t shy about it, he bragged. Boosted even. 

To anyone who would listen, he would tell his tale, of how this track was going to change everything for him, for his family. 

Now, he wasn’t the most popular kid by any stretch and he felt like he could lose a few pounds, but in his heart he knew he was destined for greatness.

He loaded up a flash drive and hit the streets. He didn’t have a lot of money, but he had hustle. The kind of hustle that money can’t buy. 

He went to every club, afterhours, strip joint, juke joint, hole-in-the-wall in the city he could find to network with promoters, the local DJs, tastemakers, etc. 

Month after month, after month of relentless grinding, pop up performances, freestyling wherever he could be heard, social media, everything. 

He did this everyday. Every weekend he made a list of spots and hit every single one of them. 

One day, he was sitting in his car heading to an event when the radio started blasting his latest single. 

He was excited, confused and everything in between. He never sent the song to radio. He didn’t even know the guys at the station yet. 

But they knew him from his grind on the local scene and watching online. 

Moral of the story, do what you can, where you can.