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Andrew Peterson is Counting Stars (and Awards)

It’s a busy season for my man, Andrew Peterson. I call him “my man” because –and this is kind of a technicality– but, I own him. He returns from a series of concerts in Sweden to a clamor of excitement surrounding his art.

1. Andrew won a Christy Award for writing the very best Young Adult novel in what is known as the Christian market for North, Or Be Eaten! Bravo! Well done. It’s an amazing book, as is its predecessor, On the Edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness. His literary career is on the ascent and well-deserved it is. I love his music, but I think he might end up being a better author at the end of the day.

2. Speaking of his music, his new record is available for pre-order now. Go here to see the various ways you can support AP’s work and support your own ears (and heart) by putting your order in today. I just finished watching the video for “Dancing in the Mine-Field.” Another grown-up love song from AP in the tradition of “Don’t Give Up On Me” and others. Having just gone over the ten year mark with my wife, I was moved once again by AP’s gift for song-craft with deep truth. It’s excellent, and only one of the nifty bonus opportunities available when you pre-order. There’s t-shirts, immediate download of the record now, that video, coffee with himself, and I think a lock of his hair. Check it.

Congrats on the Christy, AP, and the new record.

I’m just waiting for your feature film to hit theaters. Your art exhibit? I hate you because you’re good at everything respect you so much.

Disclaimer: AP’s been very good to me -generous. But I was a fan before that and shall remain so until he crosses me to the end.

Here’s a video his label put together to promote Counting Stars. It’s good. Watch it.


  1. I second all of Smith’s assertions above. Don’t miss out on Andrew’s work. I pre-ordered the package where he legally changes his last name to yours (hyphenated of course). Congratulations on your achievements, Mr. Peterson-Roughton!

  2. Why does anyone else ever even think for one second about trying to compete with the sheer brilliance of Aaron Freaking Roughton’s super-power of commenting?

    Dang, son. That’s futility.

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