5 Writing Lessons I Learned From Music
You might not realize this, but you can learn a lot about writing from music.
Even though I was raised by two music-loving parents, my own love for music didn’t develop until my late teens—a problem I’m rectifying with my oldest son who has already been exposed to the likes of Elvis, Ray Charles, Queen, U2, Tears for Fears, and even some Kanye (the clean stuff, of course).
My alma mater was particularly known as a music school, so I spent a lot of my college years surrounded by musicians. One of my old roommates is still one of the best classical guitar players I know and I even helped him develop the story and lyrics for an experimental Western-themes opera which was produced by CalTech. (Yes, I have an opera on my resume. My opera-loving grandfather would be proud.)
I dabbled in music myself in my late college/early professional days even though I never had plans for a music career. Believe me, writing music is not my forte (pun intended). But for a long time, it was a creative outlet which has since helped me become a better writer. And here’s how:
Lesson 1: Be Yourself, Not Someone Else.
The music I created where I was trying to capture the style of someone else never quite worked. And of course it didn’t. I was trying to copy sounds from another artist instead of finding my own. Consistently, the songs I’m still proud of are the ones where I let my own creativity come through.
The others? I try to pretend they never happened.
It’s the same with writing. While you should definitely read other writers you admire and learn from them, don’t try to copy them. For one, you’ll never be able to do it. For another, you’ll rob yourself of the opportunity to find your own voice. If someone wants to read Hemingway, they’ll go grab Hemingway. Give readers a reason to choose you.
Lesson 2: Less is More. More Is Confusing.
When I discovered GarageBand, it was both good and bad. While there were some great tools to help me upscale my sound, I definitely overdid it with the editing and adding in multiple instruments, vocal sound effects.
Years later, I’d realize that half of my songs would have been 200% better if I’d not overdone it. In all the complicated layers of sound effects and digital instruments, you couldn’t hear the words at all. Those lyrics I’d worked hard to cultivate? Who knew what the hell they were saying.
It’s no different in writing. Often, new writers who want to “show don’t tell” end up overdoing it and adding in way more than what they need. Even though they are trying to “show,” they end up doing a lot of telling instead.
Even though you don’t want to skimp on good description, I find the best description is usually on the less side rather than the more side. There is a level of trust between the author and reader. For instance:
“The buttercream cottage was surrounded by deliciously untamed rose bushes, its weathered front door inviting her in.”
…is better than…
“The cottage was the shade of yellow that reminded her of butter on the verge of melting when left out too long. Tangles of thriving rose bushes surrounded either side of the front door, which, though weathered and gray, was nonetheless welcoming. Drawn by its mystery, she took a step forward.”
While this paragraph is not necessarily “bad,” it’s easy to get lost. What is she being drawn forward by? The door? The roses?
Are there times more flowery language is appropriate and wonderful in its own right. Absolutely. But I find it’s better to start with less and then find the moments which truly deserve some extra care.
Lesson 3: Give People a Taste, Not a 3-Course Meal.
I used to stew in jealousy at how my musician friends could easily get feedback on their 3-minute songs, but I couldn’t get feedback on my 3-act play or screenplay. Instead of stewing over this, I should have learned that when you ask for feedback on your writing, it’s best to give people a taste.
Reading an entire screenplay—or a book—takes a lot of time. Listening to a song doesn’t. I would’ve been better off saying, “Hey, I’d like your thoughts on my opening scene. It’s only 5 pages. Do you feel like it’s pulling you in or is it too slow?”
Likewise, when you’re ready to get feedback, you need to start with smaller bites. Ask for feedback on the first chapter, not the entire manuscript. If people want more, then give them more. But you’re far more likely to get good feedback when you’re only asking people for a taste test, not a full feast. They might be afraid of telling you the first course wasn’t to their liking but now they’re committed to a 3-course meal. Most would rather ghost you than risk having to waste time they’ll never get back only to deliver bad news.
In my music writing days, I had little trouble getting feedback from friends about a song—even when it was more negative than positive. I only wish I’d learned it sooner with my word writing.
(Speaking of, if you want to learn more about how to handle critique, I wrote another blog on it you can find here.)
Lesson 4: It’s Not About Popularity.
As I’m writing this, Taylor Swift just won an unprecedented fourth Grammy Award for Best Album of the Year. To put this into context, here are some legendary musicians who have NEVER won a Grammy for Album of the Year:
Coldplay
Diana Ross
Elvis Presley
Queen
Jimi Hendrix
Bob Marley
And the list goes on. It’s easy to chalk up T Swift’s success as sheer popularity, but looking at the list above, that’s clearly not the case. What she does well that other great musicians often struggle with is consistent storytelling.
Many writers think the key to breaking through is catching a popular trend. So if the trend is vampires, they rush to write a vampire romance…but then the market moves on. And then they do the same, jumping over to dystopian YA. And then the market moves on…
The reason Taylor Swift can genre jump so successfully isn’t because of her popularity, it’s because no matter what genre she’s in, she’s a good storyteller. When “Shake It Off” first came out on the radio, critics couldn’t deny its catchiness, but they thought it marked the beginning of the end for her career. “Uh oh,” they said. “She’s chasing pop star popularity and it’s going to backfire.”
They were wrong.
Put authentic storytelling first. Not trying to be popular. I’ve started—and not finished—so many projects because I was trying to chase a trend in the market rather than focus on telling stories I felt deeply within me. If you focus on the story first, the genre doesn’t matter.
Lesson 5: Don’t Rush.
So many of my songs are cringe-inducing for one simple reason: I rushed the recording and then rushed the editing. The result is a cacophonous mess.
It’s easy to make the mistake in writing. You want to capitalize on a trend or your own excitement with your book, so you rush through the creating and editing process. Worse, you do your own editing—one of my greatest mistakes in my music. It’s incredibly difficult to be objective about your own work. If I’d had a friend at least help me with the editing, maybe the songs would’ve been a little better. (Maybe.)
When you rush, the audience can tell. Story beats are out of rhythm. Plausibility issues abound. Plot holes emerge and swallow up everything like a black hole.
As the toy fixer says in Toy Story 2, “You can’t rush art!” (I’d use this example even if I wasn’t a dad of two.) If you’ve ever wondered why authors often experience the “sophomore blues” on their second novels, it’s this. They are facing pressure from their publisher to get the next book out, they are experiencing their own stress at trying to match the success of their debut, and it sometimes shows in the end result.
While I’m a big fan for setting a deadline for yourself as motivation, that doesn’t mean you should compromise on quality. It also doesn’t mean you let perfectionism derail all your hard work and second-guess your instincts.
I see this last point come up a lot in nonfiction. Often, authors have a timeline for their book they want to hit—an industry conference, a brand revamp, a market trend they want to capitalize on, etc.—which leads to them feeling like the publishing process takes too long. Which is why I work to focus my writers on finding timeless elements of their message which will still resonate 10 years later, not just at the time of book launch.
If any of these music-inspired lessons resonate with you, let me know. Let’s find a time to talk by scheduling a free 20-minute Q&A session with me. Together, we can isolate the root problem and find a way to get you back in sync and in harmony with your Story.
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