The Devil Made Me Do It

The journey of a creative piece often takes a twisting, turning, unexpected path to its final destination. You can't know when you begin, where that poem or song, that painting or pot will finally land. All we can do is be true to the calling of the Muse, who shows up most often when we arrive at our pen and paper, our easel, or pick up our instrument at a regular time in a designated space. She needs to know where and when to find us. Her faithfulness is entirely dependent on our own. Now this is a true story.

After one of my all-night writes up on White Rock Mountain last year, I came back down after two solid days of writing and one of complete solitude on the mountain top. Needless to say, I was immersed and had no desire, really, to return to the mundane chores of everyday life. I felt as if I could live that way up there forever. Truthfully, I only had a couple more days like that left in me. My creativity feeds off the fire and energy of life and love, so I know I'm not really the monkish poet, but it calls to me occasionally. It calls me, and I try to answer.

Anyway, when I got back down, I was grumpy and downright hard to live with, according to Leigh, who should know. Smart Leigh, creative Leigh...instead of reacting to my surliness, simply went to her room and penned a few lines about how she was feeling. They went something like this: "The devil stole my baby from the mountain top. She went up sweet as honey, now the sting is all I got. The sting is all I got." Then she sent it to me via email.

Well, instead of getting mad that she seemed to think the devil got hold of me instead of my creative need, I just happened to be in the space (from all that writing) to recognize a really good bluegrass refrain when I saw one. And since I just happen to know a bluegrass band, I wrote Leigh back and said, "Send me all you got. This is great!" So she did. She had a couple of phrases she thought should be in it, like "all she ever makes me is a blackbird pie" and "they sent me old Scratch" which is a great old-fashioned term for the devil, for you younger readers.

Anyway, I took what she sent and turned it into song lyrics, being as true to her words as I could be. Then I sent the song to my musician friend, Lenny Lasater, who plays for a Blue/Newgrass band in Atlanta, GA called Roxie Watson. Lenny listened to some of the old, darker bluegrass tunes and came up with some incredible music along with her band members. And just the other night, I made the long drive to Atlanta with a friend to hear the debut of their new CD "True Stories." And what's the best song, the most original and intense song, on this album of really terrific songs? Why, "Devil Stole My Baby," of course. No, I'm not prejudiced. I co-wrote some of the other songs on that album as well, but this is the one that really knocks my socks off.


Who knew that Leigh, when she wrote her words (called a "hook" in the biz) to avoid a conflict, deciding to do something constructive instead, then sent them to me to let me know how she was feeling, would make a hit song on a bluegrass CD in less than a year? Because the band could choose "Devil" to enter into a local band contest to perform for Lilith Fair in Atlanta. Whichever song they choose, we believe they'll get there. You can hear a snippet of "Devil" and even buy the CD (or download your favorite songs) here. Or just look for Roxie Watson at cdbaby.com and then the "Devil," who is always easier to find than you think.

I know I say this all the time, but follow your instincts. Use your natural abilities to create a song or poem or a painting rather than a conflict. Bring it home and make it healing. I swear, you never know what will happen next. Trust your Muse to do the rest.