“I’ve been an actor since I was a kid. Went to a performing arts school in Huntsville and majored in theater in college. I had many opportunities and good things going for me. I moved to New York in my twenties pursuing an acting career because that was what I was meant to do. But I hit a quarter-life crisis. Using drugs and alcohol since my early teens caught up with me. I learned I couldn’t blow off a DUI.

Tried to be an actor, but the motivation to say other people’s words and analyze other characters was gone. My work was mediocre–not living up to my potential was torture. I started writing songs for a creative outlet, but I was bad. I tricked myself to keep going, latching onto the songs of Mary Gauthier. Nobody in film and TV was interested in my quirky, country, wordy songs. Made a pop alias and wrote the worst song I could write–it got on an MTV show. Tried to sell out, but even that wasn’t easy. I should’ve just done what they told me from the beginning: be myself. I had to figure out who that was.

I’ve always been a storyteller. As a kid, I made up stories, forcing my cousins to be in my two-act plays with sets and costumes. My whole family had to buy tickets and watch. Years later, I was in my twenties and heading to my family reunion with a friend. We bought an eight-ball of cocaine in an alley and stayed up partying the night before. Got out of the car at the reunion–jacked out. My cousins asked for a play. Uh oh. It was the first year I didn’t put one on for them. That’s when I knew my priorities had changed. I had a problem.

I went to New York to act but got sober there instead. Songwriting was a part of that. I wrote ‘Drink Enough’ when I was blackout drunk: Can I drink enough to shut ‘em up?… Everything I worked for and everything I got might as well be sitting right there in this shot. I wrote ‘Deliver’ right after that. That song got me sober: Maybe she’s lonely now. Maybe she’s boring. But she ain’t going to hate herself in the morning.

I learned I couldn’t take a drink while holding a guitar and a pen in my hands. I worked on ‘Deliver’ every day for a month: writing instead of drinking. Songwriting saved my life and became how I deal with things. One of those was my brother’s sentencing to life without parole in Alabama when he was seventeen. I was nine. Thirty years later, he’s still in prison but has life with parole. ‘Waiting’ is the one song he let me write about him.

I played ‘Waiting’ at the 30A Songwriter Festival. The director of the Cultural Arts of Alliance of  Walton County heard the song and asked me to start a residency teaching songwriting classes to inmates at Walton Correctional Institution. I finished my third residency last week. Those guys are good songwriters; I like being around them and experiencing who they are. One wrote ‘Waiting, Too’, telling my brother’s story from a different perspective.

Teaching others to get vulnerable and write from the truth forces me to go past my own ‘good enough’ when I know a song can be better. Kill my darlings and take off the shine. Teaching this class is the first time I realized I have something to offer, but I have to stay qualified to teach them. Those guys are getting good and coming after me.

Songwriting changes as I grow. I have just released the EP ‘Beggar.’ I wrote the songs when I was still selling myself short and risking humiliation to do better. The music I’m writing now is more like I’ve arrived and looking around at what’s going on. My producer taught me not to think about what will happen to my music while I’m writing and making it. Worrying about other things means I’m not putting in one hundred percent of myself. He gave me permission to just create–like when I was a kid. What a relief.

The freedom to create is all I wanted. I want to tell the younger me I’m sorry I went away for so long. I came back to her, but I’m still a bit of an outlaw and say what’s on my mind.”

Caitlin Cannon

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Caitlyn is playing tomorrow (Sunday, April 7) at Storytellers at the Frog Pond. The other songwriters are Grayson Capps, Caroline Herring, and Claire Holley. Corky Hughes and Gram Rea are playing on the side. The show is sponsored by Our Southern Souls and is a benefit for Frog Pond–a magical music venue in Silverhill. Tickets are $40 donations per person. The show is from 3 p.m. For details and seat reservations email the Frog Pond at

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