Knowing why we write...
and continually remembering to remember
When I say I teach songwriting, I always try to clarify that I don’t really TEACH anyone how to write a song. I do a number of things to help people feel able to write songs. I always share with new students that I have no special insight, connections, or advice on the business of writing songs, but that my particular focus is yes on the craft but as well on the emotional and spiritual side of writing. I also share with students that my goal is to not only help people learn to write more and better songs, but also to explore their process of writing. And maybe most importantly, my goal is to help people connect more deeply to WHY they write. Because the more they understand their own why, the less they look for others to determine it for them.
I’ve been making and teaching music for a long time. I talk about it in depth with students, friends, peers, colleagues and with our guests on The Other 22 Hours. I have noticed over the years that there is often a present element of pain or heartache attached to creativity. Everyone I know who loves to write, create, make things expresses some sort of disappointment or hurt at some point in not receiving what they hoped from it, not feeling good enough, not achieving enough with it, wondering why it’s not easier, and why they aren’t getting more attention, affirmation from it? What I have realized over time and through constant conversations with creators experiencing all different levels of outside ‘success’ is that this doesn’t seem to entirely go away for anyone, it just moves on a scale.
(Interesting aspect of this conversation came up with the hit songwriter, Edwin McCain and his practice to attempt to keep his creativity pure and not always expect something in return from his songs and artistic work….listen here)
An “amateur” or “hobbyist” might pine for the approval or affirmation that they are “good” as as much as the artist self-releasing and playing small coffee shops does as much as the artist with millions of streams driving around playing 500 cap rooms does as much as the artist with multi millions of streams on a bus with a record deal does as much as a mega pop star does. Even Taylor Swift in her Miss Americana documentary is visibly wounded when she doesn’t receive her, what 50th-some Grammy nomination for her Reputation album?? Even within a place of gratitude and recognition of what we have, we all are still seeking approval, belonging, confirmation that yes, we are good. Even if we’ve gotten it before, we need it again and again.
I was recently chatting with a friend about career and personal ambitions, where we choose to focus our energy and attention at different points in our lives. She is single, does not have children, is very focused on her career and is experiencing a lot of success in return: Grammy nominations, massive world tours, sold out shows, her artistic and professional dreams are coming true. I was sharing my joy and dreams coming true in growing my family and having a home life I deeply love but also seeing how my career has been impacted by it and still feeling ambitious and wanting in that realm. She told me as much as she loves what she’s doing, she can’t help but wonder though what in the long term is more nourishing. She pondered the idea that it seems like I’m preparing myself a very nourishing meal while she’s out chasing 70,000 Dr. Peppers. She noted that the one thing she’s learned to be true about outside affirmation is that it just keeps you wanting more and more.
So how are we ever satisfied? And more importantly, how are we satisfied with creating just because we want to create? Our general cultural and societal value system doesn’t help with personal satisfaction. With our awards shows, televised contests and constantly visible numbered metrics to judge ourselves and each other, we’ve designated creativity and ‘talent’ for only the special ones. We’ve taken away the idea that being creative is an essential part of being human. When in reality, creating is not something that just some of us are capable of and therefore get rewarded with attention, praise, money, accolades for being deemed special and good. We all have the desire and need to create, to make meaning of our lives. And we don’t need permission or stamps of approval to do so.
With my students, I use free writing as a way to try and break through our filter and get to know our deeper belief systems. I give questions and prompts during each session to probe and investigate what a student believes about themselves and their work. Recently, I had a student generally reflecting through some free writing on how the work we’ve done over the past year has impacted and influenced his life, what he has made or not made, what he hopes to make in the future. Like many, including myself, the question of why am I doing this and am I any good came up many times through this exploration. He shared his experience of loving to create but then when he shares it, his disappointment and self-doubt when he doesn’t get the response or reaction he is hoping for. He pondered if anyone would really ever tell him the truth, if he would ever find out if what he makes is any good. And then he inadvertently (and understandably) turned it to me…would I ever tell him if a song was complete shit?
I listened empathetically, related to everything he said and chose to respond with a question. Who holds the truth? Who knows the truth if something is good or bad? I would argue the democratization of art does not prove taste, quality or talent. I could cite millions of examples but I’ll spare you for this essay and stay focused on the point: how do we tell ourselves our own truth? And how do we blissfully create regardless of reception?
But then I addressed his more pointed question. Would I ever tell him if a song he wrote was complete shit?
No. I would not.
But do I tell him everything he makes is only wonderful with no changes? No, I do not. I come back with suggestions, edits, rearrangements. I push and prod and challenge and question. I have him write more options, dig deeper, be more honest, more specific, paint the picture with words, show me don’t tell me. He once quoted me back to myself and how I often say “a bunch of pretty words strung together doesn’t make a song.” I want to help refine from my years of experience and study, not claim I know better than others and stamp something good or bad.
But the real reason I would never tell someone their song is shit is because I think every song, every story has value and is worth telling if the person who made it believes so. And I want people to believe their stories have value and are worth telling. How we communicate our story resonates differently with different people. How we grow, learn, refine, improve upon and build the skills we have to tell those stories are up to us. Which is why I love helping people write songs.
So why do we write?
Anne Lamott says in her book Bird By Bird: Some instructions on writing and life:
“Writing can be a pretty desperate endeavor, because it is about some of our deepest needs: our need to be visible, to be heard, our need to make sense of our lives, to wake up and grow and belong. It is no wonder if we sometimes tend to take ourselves perhaps a bit too seriously.”
She also says,
“Writing can give you what having a baby can give you: it can get you to start paying attention, can help you soften, can wake you up. But publishing won’t do any of those things: you’ll never get in that way.”
I think her point is we have our human needs to create as well as to be seen. But we may be sorely disappointed to realize one of the things we think we want may not actually be fulfilling. So how to stay focused on the deeper WHY of creating…the curiosity, the paying attention, the meaning making. It’s different for all of us.
But I need those reminders often. Maybe this is a reminder for you.
I’m curious, why do you write, read, create, listen?
A last little story:
I watch my 3 year old daughter create, notice, observe, listen, draw, paint, imagine and make art everyday without inhibition. It is wildly inspiring. She often confidently says, “I’m an artist!” We recently were at a living room house concert and taking in a storytelling and song performance by Jewel’s dad. Yes, the Pop/Folk singer-songwriter Jewel. He asked the room how many of us were musicians. I raised my hand and looked down as I saw Georgia, sitting next to me on the sofa, shoot her little hand confidently straight up into the air. I thought, how beautiful, how uninhibited, how limitless her identify, dreams, beliefs are. How long can I help keep them that way?
As always, thank you for being here. These essays are written quickly, from the heart and without an editor. As my due date for my baby boy is quickly approaching, I would imagine I will take several weeks off from writing but you never know how postpartum will feel! That said, I greatly appreciate your responses, your subscriptions, your paid subscriptions, your sharing of my stories with others you think may resonate. I love hearing yours in return. Thank you again.
Just a reminder… I have a new song out…. and very excited to share more songs in the new year!
Writing transmits ideas, concepts, and emotions to others, things that may not be perceived otherwise. The inner voice becomes external. The challenge is whether the reader interprets that written information as the author intended or has a different interpretation. That depends on the style of writing. Understanding what Todd Snider writes versus Gabriel Garcia Marquez may differ based on how they write.
I think that is why, in part, it's hard to say if a song is "bad". The other half is whether the music part is any good. What's better, amazing lyrics with no melody or a great melody with simple lyrics?
My go-to response about why I write is that it's a prudent alternative to yelling at people as they walk by on the street. It's going to come out way or another.