Chapter 4
Cultivating the Creative Mindset
To become a songwriter, you must make it part of your life through repetition and routine. Inspiration doesn't just happen-it must be invited through regular, concentrated work. If songwriting is to become your day job, there's no substitute for a work ethic.
I've organized my life around writing songs, with a dedicated space at Wilco's Loft in Chicago. But I've stayed connected to daily writing habits that don't require such luxury, like freewriting before even getting out of bed.
For anyone starting out, develop a routine: commit to writing for half an hour before work or after coming home, rewarding yourself afterward. Start recording ideas immediately. Use notebooks, paper, or voice-memo recorders on your phone. Don't assume you'll remember your great ideas. I record everything that crosses my mind with potential-guitar snippets, even birdsongs that somehow feel musical. These recorded moments reconfirm my search for beauty and inspiration, and sometimes become songs.
Some artists struggle, but I think a fraud has been perpetrated by how often that story gets told versus how often art happens without external struggle. It's easier to write about artists if you project magic onto their process. The countless well-adjusted artists who simply work hard don't get written about as much without some hardship being highlighted.
Getting healthy was a big hurdle for me-I disdained the notion of drug-addled rock stars, yet part of me believed that creation myth about suffering. But everyone suffers to some degree. If great suffering alone created great art, there'd be much more of it. Truly debilitated people rarely create at all, and we've lost countless artists to illnesses and sorrows.
Writing songs is hard work, but hard work isn't struggle-it's a noble pursuit. All the rock bands you've heard of worked the hardest. When I see someone like Beyonce, I think she's working harder than anyone. If you get to do something you love, you're among a small minority in human history-cherish it, protect it, and ensure it stays fulfilling.
Chapter 5
The Daily Practice of Songwriting
My daily mental checklist has three main components: stockpiling words and lyrics through freewriting and revision; stockpiling music and song parts through demos and practice; and pairing words with music by writing lyrics to melodies and matching stockpiled material. Most days I check off all three, but even completing one maintains my work ethic. Even 5-10 minutes daily accumulates substantial material over time.
My idealized productive day (though rarely achieved completely) starts at 8pm, listening to voice memos of guitar ideas until something interesting emerges. I play it repeatedly to shape it into verses and choruses, then search for lyrical matches from my stockpiled writing. This marriage of melody and words feels like a minor miracle every time.
Late night (midnight to 3am) is for setting lyrics to at least sing one verse and chorus into my phone. I might write several verses while the meter and rhyme scheme are fresh. This puts me consciously in the path of my subconscious creativity. Working right before bed helps musical problems solve themselves while I sleep-I often wake with solutions to whatever I was working on. Even before rising, I write down lyrics on my phone, taking dictation from my kinder, less judgmental half-asleep brain.
The early morning hours (7-9am) bring an especially free flow of associations between semi-sleep state and the melodies that have danced through my dreams. My routine continues with a morning nap (9-11am), followed by freewriting or word exercises (11am-12pm). Afternoons (12-6pm) are spent in my studio, the Loft-a dream workspace I've built and maintained over years. While not everyone can have such a dedicated space, finding an environment that puts your mind in an open, receptive state is crucial for any creator.
Chapter 6
The Rewards of Creative Process
While your primary goal might be to write one song (and hopefully more), I believe being in the "process" must be at least as important as the end product. For me, the writing itself has become the primary goal-that feeling of being fully engaged with a song I'm working on is what I look forward to most in life. It creates a sense that time simultaneously expands and disappears, where I'm both more myself and free of myself. With songwriting or any artistic endeavor, it has to be about the journey, not just the destination-though you'll likely end up with both.
Finished songs rarely match your initial vision-you'll fail often. Learning to write songs largely means teaching yourself to fail and being comfortable with it. Yet songwriting is ultimately about searching for, finding, and sharing truth. All art reveals truths that remain invisible in our day-to-day existence until someone articulates what was always there but unnoticed, making others think, "That's exactly how I feel."
While I encourage embracing failure, it's also fine to aspire to greatness. I want to write songs that become someone's favorite of all time. But during creation, I'm not actively pursuing "the greatest song ever"-I'm simply satisfied knowing I'm not hurting anyone. The process brings joy regardless of outcome, and I find pieces worth sharing later. Creation itself prevents me from feeling I'm wasting my time.
What can you expect after writing a song? The answer is simultaneously "not much" and "everything." The "not much" refers to the process-the joy of disappearing into creation and finding something you didn't know existed within you. But occasionally, a song becomes "everything"-its own universe, the only place that creates a particular feeling. Maybe your song will make someone feel like they're "floating weightless inside a small guitar" as Nick Drake's "Pink Moon" does for me.
I'd be dishonest not to mention wanting acknowledgment-desiring respect and reverence for what I do feels natural. I've been fortunate to exceed my early expectations of success, which became a fun challenge: "Do I belong here? Can I get good enough for this stage?" I believe that when you sincerely bring yourself out through music, getting personal fulfillment first, the world's response follows naturally. While recognition is nice, making it your primary focus diminishes the music and creates an endless pursuit, like wealthy people competing for ever-larger yachts.
Chapter 7
Practical Approaches to Writing Your First Song
Now it's time to actually start writing your song. I believe all words contain their own music and hold worlds of meaning beneath the surface. Poetry happens when words open up, revealing their inner worlds and inherent music. Songs accomplish this too, just differently. Songs and poems exist for similar reasons-historically, they were likely the same thing, used to remember important events and people. Poetry emerged from necessity when writing systems were inadequate, creating tonal mnemonics to aid memory (like how we still sing the ABCs when alphabetizing).
The most common question songwriters get is "Which comes first, music or lyrics?" Starting with words as sounds and music-without focusing on meaning yet-helps explain why my answer is usually "Both and neither." This isn't evasive; it's truly how I approach songwriting. The exercises that follow will help your ego-driven, meaning-obsessed brain relax, allowing words to be musical and atomic as we start rearranging them.
These exercises serve as ways to hot-wire language or create detours around linguistic habits. Our everyday communication style makes it difficult to hear the music in how we talk. These exercises limber up our language use and soften our brains so words can make deeper impressions. Our thinking and communication patterns can become rigid, causing words to bounce off our overtaxed attention-fine for daily needs but inadequate for songwriting. We need to intentionally free language from those constraints to reveal beauty, pain, and whatever else hides beneath everyday language.
Despite encouraging creative language use, I emphasize not using fancy multisyllabic words in lyrics. These often break the spell cast by melody. My favorite songwriters use common, simple, precise language in uncommon ways within songs. John Prine exemplifies this approach, rarely using flowery language but staying true to what the song needed.
Chapter 8
Creative Exercises to Unlock Your Songwriting
Several powerful exercises can help loosen your habitual language patterns and spark fresh creative directions. The Word Ladder exercise begins by writing down ten specific verbs associated with a particular profession - for instance, a doctor might "diagnose," "heal," "examine," "prescribe," and "treat." Then list ten concrete nouns within your immediate field of vision, like "coffee cup," "window," "bookshelf," or "pencil." By deliberately connecting these unrelated words in unusual combinations, you create surprising phrases that suggest hidden meanings and metaphors: "the bookshelf diagnoses," "memories prescribe," or "sunlight writes." These unexpected pairings often reveal deeper emotional truths and fresh perspectives.
Another effective approach is the "stealing words from a book" technique. Start by humming or playing a melody that appeals to you, then randomly open any book - fiction, non-fiction, even instruction manuals work well. As you hum your melody while skimming the page, certain words and phrases will naturally attach themselves to the tune. This method bypasses self-consciousness and overthinking, creating a sense that ideas flow from an external source. Writers often report that their best lines seem to arrive this way, as if discovered rather than invented.
Cut-up techniques, popularized by artists like David Bowie and William S. Burroughs, can transform flat, lifeless lyrics into vibrant new combinations. Begin by writing out your draft lyrics, then physically cut the paper into strips containing individual lines or phrases. By randomly rearranging these pieces, you'll discover surprising juxtapositions and hidden meanings. Even simple reordering of existing verses can dramatically improve the flow and impact of lyrics. Though rooted in surrealist traditions, this technique proves remarkably effective even for straightforward, narrative songwriting styles.
For those struggling with the pressure to write something profound, remember that everyone is naturally gifted at composing and improvising language. While most emotional territories have been explored in songs before, your unique perspective and personal way of expressing what matters adds something valuable to the conversation. Try recording a casual conversation where someone questions you about your life experiences, relationships, fears, and dreams, then carefully transcribe your responses. When reviewing your natural, unpremeditated speech patterns, you'll often notice that everyday language contains the raw material for compelling lyrics - authentic phrases, natural rhythm patterns, and honest emotional expressions that can be shaped into songs.
Additional exercises include writing from different perspectives (like inanimate objects), using sensory details to ground abstract concepts, and creating metaphor maps that connect emotional states to physical experiences. The key is maintaining a playful, experimental attitude while exploring these techniques, allowing yourself to generate material without immediate judgment.
Chapter 9
From Collecting Ideas to Completing Songs
When songwriting works best, it's like listening to a record as you create it-sometimes even writing a song in the time it takes to play it. This magical state comes from practice; the exercises we've covered create well-worn paths into your subconscious. With time, you'll need less trial and error, becoming able to close your eyes and hear what should come next. Many songwriters describe this as entering a "flow state" where melodies and lyrics emerge naturally, almost as if the song already existed and they're simply uncovering it.
Recording yourself is essential to the songwriting process. While I now use digital voice memos, I started with a cheap dictaphone that warbled my voice just enough to make it tolerable to hear myself. If you struggle with hearing your recorded voice, remember your voice is your body-work toward acceptance at minimum, love as a goal. Modern smartphones offer excellent recording capabilities, but any recording device will do. The key is capturing ideas immediately when inspiration strikes, whether it's humming a melody in your car or working out a chord progression at 3 AM.
When you have a melody but no lyrics, create "mumble tracks"-singing nonsense that fits the melody rhythmically. These often reveal surprising meaning when translated into actual words. The process involves surrendering to nonsense, writing down what you hear, then revising until coherent. For example, a mumbled phrase like "mm-hmm da-day light" might become "I'm done delaying" in the final version. Songs developed this way tend to be more satisfying to sing because they prioritize how words feel in your mouth over perfect meaning. This technique has been used by artists from Michael Jackson to Paul McCartney, who famously used "scrambled eggs" as placeholder lyrics for "Yesterday."
I'm skeptical of "writer's block"-it's not truly a block but a judgment. Writers rarely lose the ability to create; they simply go through periods of disliking what they create. When feeling stuck, remember there are no rules except those you make. Try starting in the "wrong" place-if you typically write delicate songs, begin with a drum machine; reverse chord progressions; switch from acoustic to electric. Some songwriters find success by changing their environment completely - writing outdoors, in a different room, or at unusual times of day. Learn to accept what comes easily-we often devalue things that feel effortless, wrongly assuming greatness requires struggle. Many classic songs were written in minutes: Leonard Cohen spent years perfecting "Hallelujah," while Keith Richards wrote "(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction" in his sleep.
Remember that finished is better than perfect. Set deadlines for completing songs, even if they're arbitrary. Keep a regular writing schedule, treating songwriting as a craft to be practiced rather than waiting for inspiration to strike. Consider keeping a song journal where you log your writing sessions, noting what worked and what didn't. This reflection can help identify patterns in your creative process and overcome common obstacles.
Chapter 10
The Value of Completion and Connection
I won't argue that it shouldn't matter if your song is "good," but how you judge your art is far less important than the act of creation itself. You must learn to be okay with being bad-writing a bad song, playing guitar poorly-or you'll never reach "good." Try to find joy in creating even a bad song.
We could all use a break from our hypercritical, ego-protecting brain that constantly judges us. Children don't have this self-consciousness, which is why they're invariably better artists than adults. Their imaginations run wild. This childlike creative superpower remains within all of us.
I don't like every song I write, but I like that I wrote it. For every five songs, I'll write one that means a lot to me, and it wouldn't have come without writing those other four.
Here's my strong suggestion: play your song at least once for someone other than yourself. Feel the intimacy and vulnerability of singing your song aloud with someone listening-preferably someone you love. I used to play my songs for my mother, but it could be anyone. An open mic? Even a pet might qualify. The important part is that it's a consciousness outside your own.
I don't think your song doesn't exist until someone else hears it, but what makes a song a song is how it feels when sung. You might give up halfway through or change words as you anticipate someone not following-because every song should attempt to connect. Songs are pleas. It's about reaching out and pulling in, or pushing out and looking in. To whatever degree you need connection, you've taken time and effort to create a song. I want you to understand what you've done.
Before we end, remember to stop thinking about creating something "great" or fame-inducing. Instead, recall being a child drawing on the floor, losing yourself in creation, and loving what you made simply because you made it. People will judge you, and you'll judge yourself, but putting the crayon, pen, or guitar in your hand remains more valuable than any criticism.
