I’m one of those people who has written just about anything. Novels, short stories, screenplays, magazine articles, newspaper columns, pyramid style newspaper articles, news releases, and so on.
The one thing I can’t write is a song.
It won’t come. I can’t do it. I sit down with an idea and nothing works. I’m sure it’s partially because I’m trying to include too much information. Good songs are tight, brief, and have an impact.
Before I continue, let’s be clear I’m not talking about bubble gum pop rock lyrics, (baby oh baby hey baby baby humm), or this new so-called country music that’s simply repetition and tailgates, trucks, and partying in a field.
I’m talking about songs that tell a story. That’s what we do, right? Writers want to tell a story, whether it’s a novel, or shorter as a novella, or the traditional short story. This morning I woke up to a new, rain-washed world of clean, cool air and for some reason The Wabash Cannonball came into my head.
This narrative was originally written sometime in the 1880s and is sweeping in scope.
From the great Atlantic ocean
To the wide Pacific shore
To the queen of flowing mountains
For the hills and by the shore
She’s mighty tall and handsome
And she’s known quite well by all
She came down from Birmingham on the Wabash Cannonball
Well now listen to the jingle
To the rumble and the roar
As she glides along the woodland
Through the hills and by the shore
Hear the mighty rush of the engine
And the lonesome hoboes call
No changes can be taken
On the Wabash Cannonball.
Now here’s to daddy Claxton
May his name forever stand
He’ll always be remembered
In the ports throughout the land
His earthly race is over
And the curtain round him falls
We’ll carry him home to Glory
On the Wabash Cannonball Copyright A.P. Carter
Here’s a link to the Roy Acuff version written long ago. The quality has issues, but the story is there.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i435ovKX9aE
This song (I didn’t include the two reprises at the end) tells a story about Daddy Claxton, an engineer, but it’s also filled with descriptions that put the reader in that place, something we all seek do in our writing. Sight, sound, and though the original writer A.P. Carter never mentions the sense of smell, the writing brings smoke, clear mountain air, and the humid odor of any coast in this land.
Another song I use when I’m teaching comes from the late, great Charlie Robison, who recorded The Lights of Loving County, a condensed novel. It’s the age-old story of betrayal, and ultimate justice. I wish I’d written this perfect story complete with a riveting plot, descriptions of our desolate West Texas, and an excellent twist. Loving County is the most sparsely populated county in the country.
Well, I loved a girl
She lived out in Pecos, and pretty as she could be.
And I worked the rigs on out in Odessa
To give her whatever she needs.
But that girl, she run with an oil company bum
‘Cause the diamond was not on her hand.
And he left her soon ‘neath the big loving moon
To go out and X-ray the land.
Now I sit in my car at the New Rainbow Bar downtown,
And the frost on the windshield shines toward the sky
Like a thousand tiny diamonds in the lights of loving county.
Well, l walked in that bar and I drank myself crazy
Thinking about her and that man.
When in walked a woman, looking richer than sin
With ten years worth of work on her hand.
Well, I followed her home and when she was alone
Well, I put my gun to her head,
And I don’t recall what happened next at all
But now that rich woman, she is dead.
Now I drive down the highway
Ten miles from my sweet baby’s arms.
And the moon is so bright it don’t look like night
And the diamond how it sparkles in the lights of Loving County.
But she opened that door and I knelt on the floor
And I put that ring in her hand.
Then she said, “I do” and she’d leave with me soon
To the rigs out in South Alabam’.
Well, I told her to hide that ring there inside
And wait ’til the timing was good,
And I drove back home and I was alone
‘Cause I thought that she understood.
The next night an old friend just called me to wish us both well,
He said, he’d seen her downtown, sashaying around
And her diamond how it sparkled in the lights of Loving County.
Well that sheriff, he found me out wandering
All around El Paso the very next day.
You see, I’d lost my mind on that broken white line
Before I even reached Balmorhea.
Well, now she’s in Fort Worth and she’s just giving birth
To the son of that oil company man.
And they buried that poor old sheriff’s dead wife
With the ring that I stole on her hand.
And sometimes they let me look up at that East Texas sky.
And the rain on the pines, oh Lord, how it shines,
Like my darling’s little diamond in the lights of Loving County.
Copyright, Charlie Robison
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uewrSagO-r4
Studying the lyrics of songs is an excellent exercise in creative writing. These artists have distilled the essence of a story into wonderfully crafted bites. Last night the Bride and I fired up our new old-school Marantz stereo and Craig turntable. We’ve returned to our analog roots and listened to old vinyl for hours and absorbed a heartfelt world of music about life, survival, hearbreak, and real country.
The following lines and brief verses are wonderful, descriptive images for the listener.
You don’t know lonely ’til it’s chiseled in stone. Vern Gosden, Chiseled in Stone
She wore red dresses with her black shining hair,
Oh, she had my baby, and caused me to care.
Then coldly she left me to suffer and cry.
She wore red dresses and told such sweet lies.
Dwight Yoakum, She Wore Red Dresses
There’s a burning question afire in my mind, you always had the answers to the ones I couldn’t find. Clint Black and Hayden Nicholas, Where Are You Now
Seeking relief from your memories, I’ve almost Jack Daniels drowned. Ronnie Reynolds and Linda Craig. Recorded by John Anderson, Almost Jack Daniels Drowned.
As I write today, I hope such sentences come to mind, because these are the things that stick with readers.
It’s frustrating that I can’t write songs, but I’m eternally grateful others can.






























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Back when Lost became a TV phenomenon, I watched the first season and was just as hooked as everybody else. Man! Each episode ended with an inexplicable and shocking mystery, and I had to keep watching.



C.S. Lakin is an award-winning author of more than 30 books, fiction and nonfiction (which includes more than 10 books in her