“He’s currently a staff writer for Warner Music in Nashville.”
“Wow. You know with a hit song like “Forever in Love”, he could probably call it quits and live off millions for the rest of his life. Royalties, baby. When Whitney Houston recorded Dolly Parton’s song, “I Will Always Love You”, for the movie,The Bodyguard, it went straight to number one, the royalties from that one song alone setting her up for life!”
Katie rubbed the back of her neck nodding in agreement. “He’s quite humble about it all. He doesn’t come across as incredibly wealthy. He wears old cowboy boots and drives a pickup truck.”
“A real-life, musical cowboy. And my beautiful Kathryn fucked him…”
“Dale!”
He stood and straightened the lapels on his jacket. “For what it’s worth, you look ravishing this morning. It’s a good look for you.” He opened the door and turned around one last time, displaying a beautiful smile. “I have a conference call in five minutes, otherwise you’d be telling me way more about your new friend. Toodles, my lovely. We’ll talk more at lunch.”
“Toodles, D.” She watched him walk out of the office and gently shut the door behind him. Collapsing back into her chair, she sighed and hit the play button again. Knowing that Clay had penned the lyrics and melody to the beautiful ballad coming out of her computer speaker made her heart swell.
***
Clay tapped his foot and fidgeted while sitting in the large conference room of the Nashville offices of EMI Publishing. Because of the commercial success of his country crossover hit, “Forever in Love”, he was in high demand and had to hire a public relations team over the past year to help navigate the press who grappled for interviews. This was the part of the business he didn’t care for. The questions were always the same, relating to how he got started, what motivated him and the actual steps he took to write a song. He was doing a publishing buddy a favor today by attending an interview by one of the staff ofSongwriting Universe Magazine. EMI was a hop, skip and a jump from Warner Music, and there was a Starbucks along the way, so he didn’t mind helping his friend out. He tapped the toe of his cowboy boot under the table as he sipped robust, black coffee and looked out the giant office window. He stared at the green leaves of a giant oak tree dappled with shimmering rays of the midday sun. His lower lip tugged upward into half a smile, the orbs of light in the upper boughs of the trees reminding him of the morning he and Katie woke up in the back of his truck together. If he hadn’t of agreed to this interview “favor” for his buddy, he’d still be back at her place, no doubt. He was smitten with Katie Parker and incredibly grateful that their paths managed to cross at the reunion. Deep down, he always knew that they’d cross paths again—she was someone he could never quite get out of his mind all these years. Maybe it was because she was his first crush and a muse for countless songs he had written in those early days in Nashville. It was easy to write about love when he thought of her—she had his heart a long, long time ago…
“Mr. Watkins?”
Clay looked up and noticed a voluptuous woman with the most astonishing purple hair. An intricate flower tattoo peeked out from under her short-sleeved shirt, and she had a small diamond nose piercing, which accentuated her rockabilly style. He met all kinds of artsy people in the business. It never ceased to amaze him how colorful some of them were.
“Hey. You can call me Clay.” He stood and stuck his hand out. Her pale fingers wrapped around his hand, shaking it firmly and she looked up at him with a genuine smile. Caught off guard by her ice-blue eyes that looked at him from behind thick glasses, he thought she was quite beautiful—colorful, but beautiful.
“Thanks, Clay. I’m Heather Spade fromSongwriting Universe Magazine. Thanks for meeting with me on such short notice,” she said with confidence.
“No problem,” he muttered. He watched her spread various items out on the large conference table and waited to sit back down until she settled.
“So, our readers have been inundating us with requests to interviewtheGeorgia Clay for some time now. You’re a real inspiration to so many up-and-coming songwriters. Congratulations on the Grammy.”
Clay blushed, not knowing how to reply, so he nodded quickly before taking a swig of coffee.
She flipped a notepad open to a page filled with writing and placed a mini-recording device between them. “I usually record the interview and go back later to write it all out. You okay with that?”
“Sure.”
Heather Spade clicked play on the recorder and dove right in. “Interview with Georgia Clay Watkins at EMI Publishing. This is Heather Spade.” She cleared her throat. “Georgia Clay, do you mind if I call you that?”
“No, that’s fine.”
“You’re among the top tier of Nashville songwriters and were recently inducted into the Nashville Songwriters Hall of Fame. Our readers want to know what inspires you to write. Where do you get all the ideas for your awesome songs?
Clay shifted in his seat and leaned forward with his elbows on the table, palming his coffee cup. “Well, I don’t expect people to understand where the songs come from because I don’t understand it myself.”
Heather laughed. “Do you mostly write alone, or do you have songwriting partners?”
“It’s been mostly a solitary experience for me. I’ve dabbled with a couple of collaborations, but most of my songs come from my own heart.”
He watched her nod with understanding. “You’ve catapulted several careers in the country music business with some brilliant songwriting. How does it make you feel to hear one of your songs being sung by someone else?”
Clay scratched his chin mulling over his answer before speaking. “Well…it’s a beautiful compliment when someone wants to record something I’ve written. It’s funny though. Nine times out of ten we can hear the same thing but understand it very differently from one another.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, people are always trying to find some deep, hidden meaning in my songs—they’re just songs. I like a three-chord progression with a simple melody. My lyrics are simple too. I like lyrics that sound like a conversation. I think the best-written songs out there are the ones where the words find the melody; you know what I mean?”
Heather’s brow furrowed. “So, would you say that your lyrics are your strongest asset as a songwriter?”
Clay thought for a moment. “You could say that. I’m kind of like a ‘picture painter.’ It’s like if you listen to a high school football game on the radio. You can’t be there, and somebody’s got to paint a picture for you. It’s the same with a song. I try to paint the best picture and take that listener to where I want them to be.”
