My Shout‑Out To The People Who Keep Local Las Vegas Alive!

 You know, every once in a while, it's nice to receive a "Thank You" for what you do :-)

When I rolled into Las Vegas back in 1999, I already had 31 years in the media biz as a ghost — writing in the shadows, grinding through deadlines, and living the kind of behind‑the‑scenes hustle only lifers understand. "Been there, done that", I thought!

Not long after I hit town, two of Vegas’ top photographers pulled me aside. These were the kings of the pit, the guys who owned every stage in the local music scene. They told me my work was really good… then warned me that might be the very thing that would burn me out. They said the politics, the jealousy, the haters, and the noise would eventually make me lose interest and walk away. Well — decades later, I’m still here, just barely.

And here’s the truth: I never even considered photography as my strong point. Writing is, was, and will always be who I am! Taking pics is just a side gig for me.

Las Vegas used to be packed with local media pros who covered the local music scene because they lived it. Journalists, writers, photographers, and podcasters who knew every dive bar stage, every late‑night jam, every band grinding through the neon haze. They weren’t tourists with press badges — they were locals who showed up because the music mattered, documenting the scene from the inside out.

Today, the roster’s thinned to a couple of magazines, a handful of writers still swinging, a few podcasts fighting the good fight, and a handful of talented photographers keeping the flame alive.

Being a local media member in this town isn’t easy! You deal with armchair experts who swear they know more about media than the people actually doing the work. You deal with people who talk behind your back. You deal with has-beens that never was. You deal with haters who get jealous because your name hits the spotlight and theirs doesn’t. And you deal with people who simply don’t appreciate your grind — the long nights, the hustle, the passion it takes to keep Vegas’ local music story alive.

But the ones still standing? They’re locals. They’re loyal. They love music, and they're proud to show it through their work!. And you know who you are. Good job. Thanks for keeping the music scene alive, and for keeping Las Vegas on the map. I appreciate you!

To all the amateur writers, journalists, photographers, and podcasters, O hell yes, thank you!  You’re the ones in the trenches, the ones hauling cameras into dark bars, scribbling notes under neon lights, hitting “record” in living rooms and garages because nobody else is telling the story. Your work is raw, real, and absolutely vital. You keep the pulse beating when the pros thin out. You keep the scene visible when the big outlets look the other way. And your work? It’s awesome too. Don’t let anyone — the armchair critics, the jealous shadows, the noise — tell you otherwise. Vegas stays on the map because you show up. And I appreciate every damn one of you!!

And lastly — to the two badass photographers who pulled me aside all those years ago, trying to warn me about what was coming… You nailed it. You hit it right on the head! Is it to late to say thank you?

Gary England

Second Runs Second Chances: How Rewrites Multiply The Reach For A Journalist Or A Writer And What They're Writing About

 Since stepping out of the ghostwriter shadows and finally signing my own name (2019),

I’ve been introduced to a little industry magic trick called the "rewrite."

A rewrite happens when another publisher likes your story enough to run it, but not exactly as you wrote it the original time. They may want you to switch up the language, trim or expand the piece, swap in a few new photos, or reshape it to fit their format.

The beauty of it? The writer gets paid again for the same original work, and the people who are written about—musicians, athletes, friends grinding in their lanes- get double or triple the exposure they would’ve gotten from the first run alone.

At the end of the day, rewrites aren’t just a publishing trick—they’re a reminder that nothing in life is locked in its first draft. Stories evolve, writers evolve, and people evolve. I’ve learned that giving a piece a second run can open doors, boost visibility, and breathe new life into something you thought was finished. Maybe that’s the real lesson here: every one of us has a rewrite in us. Tighten a few lines, cut what no longer fits, add what makes you stronger, and step back into the world with a cleaner, sharper version of yourself.

Gary England