Part II in the ongoing Chronicles of EbFlo. As promised (though tardy), some Q&A to accompany your morning coffee and doughnut. I’ve broken the interview down into 2 parts because, at 15 questions total, it felt a little heavy to gorge on too many at once (just like doughnuts). Today, the first 8 questions:

1. What aspect of songwriting do you devote the most time and thought to?

I’m a melody guy, so I spend a fair amount of time hammering those out, trying to keep them somewhat original (as much as is possible) and working to avoid the dreaded monotony of a similar sounding catalog. Hooks are an important component. Admittedly, I’m a sucker for a good old-fashioned pop hook, even if they emanate from the likes of various boy bands. After the melody my focus is the lyric. I don’t fancy myself a master wordsmith, but I simply cannot stand to be in the presence of throwaway lyrics. I have a really low tolerance for cheesy or trite content whether it’s an obviously overdone rhyme (love / above) or a writer who allows me no room to think and breathe inside their song. I value a good story. I don’t appreciate being told what to think, how to feel or how to act. I’m a fan of writers who use words to paint graceful pictures. There’s much more authenticity and vulnerability in hearing a well-told story than in receiving a command. God knows we all need stories to remind us of the truth.

2. You are a very detailed writer in terms of the language you use…have you always loved expressing yourself in writing?

I hated writing assignments in grade school; term papers were a nuisance, whether for English or history classes. Granted, those public school assignments were hardly meant to be exercises in self-expression, but, for me, writing purely for the joy of it came later in life. However, I do recall a few instances of writing creatively when I was a kid: I kept a childhood journal in the early 80’s that seems to be an intriguing look into the mind and daily goings-on of a young boy growing up in America. Some of the stuff I wrote down is pretty funny, looking back on it. In an art class in junior-high I made up a cartoon character named Goggles. I remember my teacher Ms. Vollenweider was enamored with Goggles and his triangular head. He ran marathons like a mutt (tongue slobbering at the side of his face) and he had large, bulging eyes, hence his name. Ms. V gave me an “A” in that class for which I was thoroughly proud. But probably my favorite effort at creative writing was a “novel” I wrote in 5th grade titled Revenge of the Birds. It is 5 pages long, handwritten and is bound in cardboard with faux-wood contact paper as the dust jacket – ‘tis a sight to behold. The hero, Geolly (pronounced “jee-olly”) Chester, builds a rocket ship that will carry he and a small band of daring soldiers to the planet Thorz, home of a menacing world of birds, so they can once and for all rid the universe of this horrible avian species that’s been terrorizing their peaceful home planet. Sure to be a bestseller. Book tour to follow…

I can’t pinpoint the exact moment I started enjoying the English language as a means of self-expression. Growing up, I was terribly shy and quiet, and that’s usually thrown people off. I’ve always been wholly uncomfortable in groups of people. I suppose they’re never really sure what to do with me as a result. One of the first classic novels I ever connected with was Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. I related very well to Mr. Darcy in that his shyness was mistaken for pride and aloofness, and as a result he was misunderstood. That connect, that relating is still very memorable and revealed to me the power of the written word. I suspect that I finally realized my frustrations at not being able to express myself, speak for myself, or stand up for myself verbally at some point while I was in college. That’s about the time I started writing songs. I attribute that time period as my coping mechanism with life via pen, paper, guitar and song. It was then, and remains now, a cathartic exercise for me personally.

3. Who are some writers that you’ve admired throughout your life?

Jackson Browne, Pete Townshend, Neil Finn, Bill Mallonee, Glen Phillips, Patty Griffin, Freedy Johnston, David Mead, Chantal Kreviazuk, Sonny Landreth, Adam Duritz, Harrod & Funck, John Hiatt, Michael Penn, Paul Westerberg, Radney Foster, Pierce Pettis, Andrew Peterson, Sean Kelly, Sting, Tom Petty, Paul Simon. Most recently I’ve become a big fan of Andy Gullahorn’s writing. His songs strike me as witty, full of the driest humor and reeks of subtle wisdom. Andy is also a card-carrying member of the Square Peg Alliance.

4. Being from Louisiana, do you find that your roots sometimes seep into your music? In what ways?

Not nearly enough. I wrote and recorded a love song a few years back that turned out, unintentionally, to be a Cajun zydeco two-step. Thankfully it was recorded in Baton Rouge with musicians who had genuine experience in the genre so it came off swimmingly authentic. Every now and then it crosses my mind to try and write more of these roots songs, but I either forget or am simply unable. For me, if it feels like a contrived effort then it probably won’t pass muster. Cajun music fans sense fraud whenever they hear it.

The images of south Louisiana are certainly ingrained in my mind. My wife and I uprooted from there in 1999 so we spent a quarter of a century in that region of scenic watery landscapes, cypress knees, LSU sports and bountiful seafood. I grew up toying around in my neighborhood’s ditches for crawfish and other sundry wildlife (I know how disgusting this probably sounds to most readers, but a “ditch” when you’re a 10-year old boy is not exactly the equivalent of a cesspool; it equaled wilderness). Don’t worry, we didn’t eat anything we caught. We learned early on the positive ecological implications of catch-and-release. I have a lot of images and positive experiences tucked away in my brain from those growing-up years.

5. Do you think you might ever move back to the South?

Is Nashville not a southern city?? I don’t see us moving back to Louisiana anytime in the near future, if that’s what you mean. Louisiana, south Louisiana in particular, will always be home for me, but it’s not a place I want to settle down in for good at this point in life. The political arena is historically ugly and corrupt (reference: New Orleans’ experience with Hurricane Katrina and the ensuing non-leadership that followed), infrastructure and traffic are ridiculous, summers are excruciating, and, considering what I do for a living, it’s not exactly a centrally located place for traveling. But I do want my son, Ellis, to know the homeland and to know his grandparents well, all four of whom still live in Baton Rouge. One day down the road, when my homesickness eventually gets the best of me, I can foresee us moving back there. Home will always be home no matter where I go.

6. Now living in Nashville, what do you miss most about Baton Rouge?

Danielle and I – ok, mostly me - have had moments of deep homesickness over the 7+ years we’ve been away from Baton Rouge. I probably mostly answered this in the above question, but probably the things I miss most are the food, the people and LSU. It’s a great college town: The LSU campus is gorgeous with its huge live oak trees dripping with moss, magnolias, crepe myrtles and terra cotta rooftops. Fresh seafood anytime you want; spring crawfish boils and summer boiled crabs, oh my. I miss being able to get in a canoe a few miles from my parents’ home, float it across the black waters of Alligator Bayou, and paddle out over the cypress flats to Spanish Lake. I did this several times in hopes of taking various wildlife and landscape photographs (still a passion of mine). All of this a mere 15 minutes from the house I grew up in. Those are the kinds of scenes that shape my memories. There is nothing like witnessing a sunrise or sunset on the shallow waters; the shadows are deep and the colors of those moments are vivid.

7. How has existing among a community of artists similar to yourself inspired you?

It’s made me try to be a better writer. Community – healthy community - forces me to get out of my self-created artistic bubble and imprints upon me the need to be available, true, not so full of myself, and to not take myself so seriously all the time. Finding the right words has become a bigger priority for me. I think it’s a result of seeing how well other writers compose their thoughts and feeling the emotions invoked by a well-chosen series of words. It’s inspiring, in a sadistic way, to know that this same community of folks I’m getting to know also struggle with the same daily stuff as I do: balancing art and commerce, paying the mortgage and bills, being away from home, fighting bouts of depression, and staying afloat in general. As a collection of artists, songwriters, authors and poets we give ourselves wholeheartedly to what we do and all we are in hopes that our body of work will not return void. The hope is always that the seed, wherever it is spread, in whatever soil, will find purchase.

8. Has it hindered you?

Undoubtedly. For better or worse, there are a zillion writers in this town. Seems like most every man, woman and grandmother are here to be the next big thing. I’ve thrown myself into the hubbub. Many of my writer friends here have a knack for both challenging me to be a better writer and making me want to quit altogether. It’s hard not to make comparisons as a writer when I hear all the great stuff out there that dwarfs my own. My inspiration comes from getting to know some of these folks personally, seeing that they’re very normal and have to deal with many of the same things I deal with, as I said above. In a way, normality becomes its own inspiration.