Last July we were in LA, minding our business, working hard in a bunker deep in the Hollywood Hills, when the note came: “Singers, strummers and drinkers: you are invited to The Event. In order to attend you are charged with this task: write an unrequited love-song including the words ‘ink’, ‘print’, ‘quill’, ‘spelling’, and ‘scrivenor’” (sic). “Easy,” we thought. “Love songs fall out of Trouble Dolls like fleas off a sheep dog.” Except it wasn’t so easy. You try including “scrivener” and “quill” in a song without invoking Herman Melville. We earned our blue chips and Blue Moon beer on this one.