Book Cover?

The two pics above are the two I am considering for the front cover of "I Wish It Would Rain."  I love the top one because it represents "the journey."  I love the bottom pic because it represents that often a little of what I desire is actually what it present. That raindrop tells me that the good or the bad may happen. The book ends in hope and redemption...this drop of rain is also a sign of things to come...OR...it could be a sign of the old passing and the new beginning. Which do you like?

Out Of Control and Songwriting and Baseball (Excerpts)

This is an excerpt from Chapter 22 called Out of Control...Things were at an all time mess during this time in my life...

I would often look at my family and think the best thing would be for me to just leave.  I was thinking that if I was out of the picture things would be ok for them.  However that is not what was needed.  What was needed was for me to man up, face the demons, go to rehab for real, regardless of how long it took and get well.  Then and only then could I be the man of the house, husband and father that this family needed, deserved and wanted.  Because I am a Christian, this lifestyle I was living could be categorized in one small word: sin.   I was living life the complete opposite of anything God had ever intended for me.  I had become a fool and every ounce of common sense and maturity was lying somewhere in the rear view.  I was the prodigal son in many ways.  If I ever did pick up a Bible and attempt to read many of the verses cut right through me with truth.  I would just put it down and pretend I didn’t read it.  I was headed for places that were the absolute opposite of anything abundant Jesus promised.  Not only was this a reality, I also knew in my deepest heart exactly what I had become and was becoming. 

It was during this time of the year that I originally released the first edition of this book you are reading, “I Wish It Would Rain.   While everything in the original is true and honest, I read back over sections and cringe, because I know what was really going on in my life then. I had become a recluse for the most part, wallowing in my addiction.  Only a couple people that I was close to knew about my addiction.  My parents, Angie, and Dwayne Burks, who helped me write the original version of this book, were the only few. I’m sure other people knew something was wrong, but just not what it was.  Then there were probably those that knew exactly what was going on but they kept it to themselves.  I was still very involved in my kids’ lives, mostly sports.  I was coaching basketball at the middle school as well as helping coach my son’s baseball teams.  I was there, but mainly physically.  My mind was elsewhere.

This is from Chapter 29..Songwriting and Baseball..I was having a conversation at a  Steak and Shake with my good friend and songwriting partner Brian White..I had just shared with him what I had been going through..

You have to understand why I asked him that.  The songwriter circles in Nashville are very guarded.  These guys work day in and day out perfecting their craft, writing amazing songs, and then pitching them to artists to see if they will record their songs.  It is a very competitive and political business.  It is also a very tight fraternity/sorority of brothers and sisters.  No one just walks up to major hit writers and tries to get in on their game.  If one does, they will most likely be shunned and not welcomed!  You kind of have to be invited in or know someone in a sense.  You have to pay your dues and prove yourself.  I was a proven writer and Brian knew that.  However I had been gone a long time and I did not want to just show up and all of a sudden think I could waltz right back into the fold.  I felt I needed to earn it.  I simply asked for a chance again. “Man, you know the door is open and it always has been,” were Brian’s words to me.   To hear that meant the world to me.  We scheduled a date for me to come back out in about two months to write together along with a friend of his. Then he said “Come out to the car, I want you to hear something.”

When we sat down Brian stuck a CD in the CD player and played some absolutely amazing songs that were just being pitched out to artists.  Then he popped another one in and said, “This is a song I have on this new artists’ record. His name is Rodney Atkins.” The song was “Watching You.”   The happy tune about the influence of a father developed into Billboard Magazine’s most played country song of 2007.  It also earned the SESAC (Society of European Songwriters, Actors, and Composers) Country music Song of the Year award.  “Watching You” eventually positioned itself on the charts for thirty-nine weeks, five of those at the number one spot.  As if that was not rewarding enough, it became a number one video on Country Music Television (CMT).   The icing on the cake was a nomination for song of the year at the Academy of Country Music Awards the following year.   The award though went to Jennifer Nettles of Sugarland for the song “Stay.”  It mattered little.  The song placed Brian in a completely different playing field as far as songwriting goes.  He’d had many #1 songs in the Christian market as well as songs in the country market recorded by Trace Adkins, Gary Allan, Neil McCoy, and Blackhawk.  While each was a great achievement, none of them changed his life like “Watching You.”  

The Hardway (Excerpt)

The following excerpt is from Chapter 24, The Hardway.  There are two excerpts from different parts of the chapter.  

EVEN THOUGH THIS WAS MY LIFE NOW, IN MY HEART of hearts this lifestyle was once very foreign to me.  It was just that I was so physically and mentally dependent.  My brain and body had changed so radically that it was quickly becoming the only normal I knew.  Another aspect was the secrecy.  I spent so much effort on concealing my demons.  Reality was that I wanted to shout to the world that I was messed up and had a major problem.  I couldn’t do that though.  I wasn’t ready for anyone to know but mainly because I wanted to hold on to the only life I now understood.  In my way of thinking I was stuck.  I desired to tell someone who could help but then I would have to stop, which I really didn’t want too.  I also didn’t want anyone to know because I was embarrassed and knew people would talk in this one horse town I lived in.  If I kept going it would mean even further destruction.  I loved this thing I hated. 

**Further on in the same chapter....**

The window in my room overlooked a nice side street.  This street was lined with homes from the early 40’s and 50’s with neatly groomed yards but not so precise that one would be scared to touch the grass.  It was fall and leaves were all over the yard.   It looked so very peaceful.   A few houses down children jumped in large piles of fallen leaves.   I stood at that window staring at a couple walking their dog.  I’m not much of an outdoors type of person but I thought how nice it would be to enjoy those things without being sick or worrying about how and where I was going to satisfy the devil inside me.  I began to think of how far I was from making people happy with the songs I had been blessed with.  I thought about how far I now was from making my family happy.  I also thought about how far I was from actually being happy.  I stared for what seemed like eternity.   I was a long way from being anything I ever desired for myself.  It really didn’t even have as much to do with music but rather life.  I was created for something else, not this.  I thought that one of the saddest things would be for my life to end this way.  I realized that if I were to die like this that people around me would not have good memories of the last few years.   Those memories would be regretful ones.  There would be nothing good in the legacy I would leave my two precious kids. 

            I began to focus on a huge oak tree to the left of my window.  For some reason it brought a sense of peace.  It was like an old friend.  It was solid, unmoved and seemed to be full of wisdom.  It was as if that tree had once been where I was at that moment.  It had been blown about by life’s hurricanes and storms.  It had been almost toppled by the great winds of life.  Now it had grown to be a shelter for others just like it.  I wanted to be like that.

A Man Don't Have To Die To Go To Hell (Excerpt)

This excerpt is from Chapter 21, A Man Don't Have To Die To Go To Hell.  I was in Washington, D.C. freelancing on camera covering the 2004 Presidential election.  I was a complete mess. My life was unraveling quicker than ever.  

The bottle of poison sitting on the counter was a stark reminder of the last 12 hours. It was sort of like waking up to a wallet that once had money but now was empty because the previous night all your money went to the strippers or to the bar down the street.  Brad Paisley said it best, “It’s a place down by the airport, where the girls dance just for you, and all you feel is drunk, and broke, and lonely when they’re through. It’s waking up with nothing but that old tobacco smell, you don’t have to die to go to hell.”  Paisley nailed those words.  He was exactly right. Hell was right where I was at the moment, and hell would also get hotter as time went by.  I also knew that the little amount in that bottle would only keep the withdrawals away for a short few hours.  I decided to wait to take it when I could no longer stand feeling the way I felt right then.  If I took it then it would start wearing off before lunchtime.  I would hold off as long as possible.

I managed to take a very quick shower, throw on clothes and make it to the van.  When Rudy and our camera operator saw me they looked at me as if I was the walking dead.  I had my sunglasses on so they couldn’t see my bloodshot eyes. On the way to the interview Rudy asked me if I was ready and properly prepped.   I lied and told him yes.  Quickly I grabbed my folder and tried a cram session.  There was so much that this guy had accomplished it all simply ran together.  I was in major trouble.  One good thing was I would have cue cards with bullet points on them.  I still had to know the stuff in order to play off the points.  Because I have been in front of people for most of my life I can “wing it” and make it believable.  This was way above my head this time.  I could sense the worry in Rudy.  This was very important to him and I decided that I wanted to at least do it for him.  I’m sure he had to be thinking, what has happened to this guy?  This isn’t the same person that I first met in Nashville a few years ago.   No kidding!   Surely he hasn’t fallen off the wagon again?  I hadn’t just fallen off the wagon; I had taken a major leap off the wagon!  

What Did I Do To Deserve This? (Excerpt)

The excerpt below is taken from Chapter 10, What Did I Do To Deserve This?  I was beginning to really experience life starting to unravel, although it was slow and almost hidden from my conscious.  The days, months and years to follow marked the beginning of the downward spiral.

One day at work near the end of the day I started not feeling very well. It felt like I was coming down with a cold and I was just very tired. I had taken the last of the pills the night before. I really didn’t think much about it other than the fact that I just didn’t feel good. When I got home that afternoon I mostly laid around the house and told my wife I felt like I was coming down with something. I actually took some cold medicine and went to bed. When I woke up the next morning I really felt bad. I even started feeling like I had a small case of cold/hot sweats. When I got to work I was lucky in the fact that I had no rentals going out that day. The more the day went on the worse I felt. I was restless, with the sniffles and I found myself yawning a lot. By 11 a.m. it was getting worse. I decided to just lie down on the carpeted floor in my loft and try to take a nap during my lunch break. I called my supervisor and told him I did not feel good but that I was going to stay the rest of the day. He said there was nothing on the books for rentals and even said, “Why don’t you just take the rest of the day and go home”. I said I might do that.  I just lay down on the floor on top of some packing bubbles I found.  I really just felt too bad to get up and leave.   

Next thing I knew it was nearly 6:30 in the evening! My wife had left numerous messages on my phone so I just told her I had been in meetings all day and wasn’t able to call. No one had even bothered to check to see if I was there or not since the building stays active 24 hours a day. Everyone assumed I had just left. One thing was certain though, I felt the worse I had felt in a very long time.  It was a different type of feeling though.  Besides the physical discomfort, which was bad, enough it also felt as if there was dark cloud surrounding me.  I felt more depressed than I had in a long time.  It’s even hard to describe it other than everything felt slow, dark, cold, and lifeless.  Even sounds didn’t sound right.  They were dull and sonically dead.  On the way home I didn’t even think about the pills I had been taking and if they had anything to do with the way I felt. However, I was really wishing I had some to take. When I got home my wife said “You look horrible, you’re pale and clammy feeling. I hope you’re not getting the flu.” I went ahead and decided that I would not go to work the next day. I decided I would call the doctor and make a visit.

The End Of The Road (Excerpt)

WHEN A PERSON STANDS ON A STAGE AND HAS HUNDREDS OR thousands of people watching them, singing their songs, etc. it can’t help but feed an ego. Those that tell you different are lying, bottom line. It’s only human.  Even walking out on stage with the purest intentions can still lead to unhealthy emotions.  Many times after a concert, especially during the last few years the band was enjoying it’s most success I would often have to check myself at the end of the night.  I simply had to keep my ego in check.   Artists are human and artists are frail. That applies no matter what type of music one plays.  These people that think if you play Christian music you should never struggle with issues like this are badly mistaken, or they have never done it!   Because we weren’t a huge band and were more popular in certain areas, some concerts were better left forgotten.  Many places we had to win over an audience, but those where the audience knew our songs and us were amazing.  I fed off the energy and the adrenaline.  There is nothing like the feeling one gets from the audience.  We would often say that the view from the stage was the greatest view in the world!  You can see where the ego can be inflated and that adrenaline becomes like a drug.  Many times after the “high” of the concert would fade I would get down in the dumps.  I would long for that feeling.  Depression was playing games with me and my addictive personality was growing.    

The Grand Illusion (Excerpt)

Below is the second excerpt from "I Wish It Would Rain."   This comes from chapter 8 called "The Grand Illusion." This was a point in the story where the depression was mounting more and more daily as I grappled with the next chapters in my life.

 

When I was hired at INSP I was still wearing the sling on my shoulder, which made doing some things difficult. My battle with depression was raging and almost every day I felt like I was slipping deeper and deeper down. The guys in the band were beginning to pour themselves into other things. I held onto a glimmer of hope that one of the guys would call me up and say, “Hey man, let’s get back on the road dude.”  But that call never came.  We even played a few dates that spring of 2000 that we had already contracted earlier.   Even those didn’t feel right. It wasn’t “us against the world” anymore. It was now just 4 guys on a stage playing some songs. It felt so different that I honestly didn’t even know how to act.  It felt as if the crowd could have cared less if we were there and we even played as if we could care less.   I remember saying to myself “I feel like I don’t even know these guys up here with me.”   It was really over.  

Another issue I had concerning the demise of the band was my age.  I was 37 years old and most of the other members were in their early to mid 20’s.   The future for me seemed very bleak. I had already gotten a college degree, was married, had kids and started a career.  Now it seemed a failure.  Suddenly 13 years that I had poured my blood, sweat, and tears into was now all wrapped up in a few CDs, mountains of memories, and hundreds of photos. I began to doubt myself for calling it quits.   I felt like a “has-been” that no one in the music world or the world in general cared a rip about anymore.