In A River of Stories,
I wrote about my admiration for songwriters. I guess it has always been there,
but writing novels has made me appreciate their talent more. They can paint a
word picture and tell a story in one page that may take a novelist a book to
tell. Consider George Jones mournful rendition
of “He Stopped Loving Her Today”. He tells a man’s life story in a few lines.
Of course, songwriters and singers do have the advantage of voices
and instruments, while authors must make their words sing on the printed page.
In Go Down Looking,
I wrote a song for a character to sing. Sure that I knew nothing about the
technicalities of songwriting, I sent it to a few friends who did know. One was
kind enough to send a couple of suggestions, but I didn’t hear from the others.
I assumed they didn’t want to hurt my feelings or that the song required so
much work they didn’t know where to start.
So I published the song on the pages of the book anyway. My
justification was that Gray Boy Rivers, the character who wrote the song, was a
rank amateur. He had a beautiful voice and could play the guitar a little, but
was far from a pro.
And the song was meant to be his final lament—not a pitiful
wail, but a look back at his life and the mistakes he made. He sang it first
for a brother he had hurt, and intended to sing it to all the people he loved
as an apology for hurting them.
I knew the song was a little long, but it was the story of
his life, after all. He was only thirty-four, but he mistakenly assumed his life
was ruined—over.
When Gray Boy looked in the mirror and saw a man he had
never wanted to be, he began to examine where he had gone wrong. Charismatic
and handsome, he had the world by the tail for most of his life. Things came so easily for him that he saw no reason to
slow down, to think less of his own needs and more about the people who loved
him, to do something meaningful with his many talents.
He had discovered that momentary pleasures fade fast and
sometimes create an urgent need to replace them with more pleasures. He felt it
was too late to discover what life is really all about. His dreams had turned
to regrets.
I wrote the song almost three years ago. When Brad Davis received his invitation to my book launch party, he asked if I could send him
the song again. He made no promises, but he said he saw potential in the
lyrics. Brad is up for his second Grammy
for his album, A Bluegrass Tribute
to George Jones.
He showed up at the book signing with guitar in hand and
went immediately to a back room. Brad is a master guitarist, a songwriter,
producer and performer, a husband and dad. He has his own recording studio. He is
a busy guy who spends a great deal of time on the road. But he took the time to
put the song to music on the fly, came out of that room, and sang it for the first time.
Brad is a perfectionist when it comes to music, so we met a
few days later to discuss more needed changes. I appreciate that. But I will
never forget that first rendition. I know the story, the real people behind
the song, and it brought tears to my eyes.
