Every weekday morning in 1989, the school bus would scoop me up from the end of my long, gravel driveway in Minnesota and deliver me to Stillwater Middle School. For 23 precious minutes, I got to listen to pop radio blare everything from Madonna and Phil Collins to the Steve Miller Band and Bon Jovi. Eighth grade in America never shone so bright. Popular music, in the ’80s and early ’90s, was a seductive companion—and for many of us, a way to make sense of our world and our human experiences.
Today, I work with musicians of all intentions, ages, and aptitudes. What is common among all of us is that we were initially drawn to music because of how it made us feel. It gives meaning and intrigues us, mind, body, and soul. More than ever before, the ease with which music can be made and consumed has left many musicians feeling invisible, undervalued, and discouraged. This collision between the commerce of music and the act of music-making is where so many of my clients get stuck. It’s the place where outcome and urge meet, and too often we assume the lack of congruence between the two indicates a problem within ourselves. But creativity itself is not tied to commercialism. It’s tied to being human. Musicians don’t create because we’re guaranteed a result; we create because something inside urges us to.
Dedicating our lives to discovering the melodic, harmonic, rhythmic, and lyrical choices that define our personal style in the world can feel like a huge risk. It is, in effect, deciding to become the most potent, most concentrated version of ourselves, even as the world outside may not approve. It is perhaps the most vulnerable action we can take in life. No wonder we sometimes retreat and lose sight of our creative flow.
I’d like to share with you a toolkit for reconnecting with that creative flow and answering the urge to write. The practice of these tools will help you learn who you are as an artist, define your natural style, and pinpoint where you can grow and expand. Think of this kit like a cowriter—there to enhance your natural aptitude and always available to help you hear your instincts more clearly.
The Toolkit
Songs, like conversations, have structure and body language. In other words, the way we deliver an idea matters as much as the idea itself. There are four core elements in our control when we’re writing with a single instrument and vocals:
- Lyrics
- Melody
- Chords
- Rhythm
Each of these elements can be practiced, strengthened, and used more deliberately in conjunction with the other three. Most of us can pinpoint the element, or elements, we’re most comfortable with. Even the genre in which our music fits can often be traced back to the elements we feel most able to control. In many ways, our style chooses us rather than the other way around.
Many times, we write unaware of all the ways we influence each element. I’d like to offer a 30-minute routine designed to invite creative flow and expansion on a more regular basis for seven consecutive days.
In the next three articles, I’ll dive into each element and share exercises for developing the musical “body language” that gives our songs power, clarity, and emotional impact.
A 7-Day / 30-Minute Routine
10 minutes:
Grab a timer and begin by choosing an interesting word or phrase, like “hot air balloon” or “crack in the sidewalk.” Anything will work, as long as you can visualize it.
Next, write about it for 10 minutes without stopping. Don’t write lyrics, and don’t try to rhyme. Just write a page without worrying about grammar or spelling, letting imagery of taste, touch, sight, sound, and smell carry you from one thought to the next. Think of it like journaling, or what some people call “word-painting.”
10 minutes:
When you’re finished, pick up an instrument and play, just for fun, for 10 minutes. Set a timer and aim to enjoy the sounds you make. Play with rhythm and range, and prioritize exploration over refinement. Resist the urge to practice, embracing imperfection over polish.
10 minutes:
Finally, use your last 10-minute block to listen to new music, ideally outside your typical listening genres. Close your eyes and really listen. See if you can feel the human intent behind the music. Embrace the impurities as well as the polish. Listen to how mood and groove express the lyric tone before you even hear the words. Notice when music and lyrics entangle to mean something more than each piece alone, and wonder why. Be curious about moments when you feel bored or disengaged. Be the observer, not the critic, openly accepting the gift the musician is offering you.
At the end of your seven days, dive into Part 2 of this series, where I’ll explore lyric writing and how we can harness this essential element while walking the path toward maintaining creativity as songwriters.
Andrea Stolpe
Andrea Stolpe is an American educator, author, and former staff songwriter. Now based in Basel, she works with musicians worldwide through in-person retreats and the EMC Institute, building cross-cultural networks that help artists thrive in a changing industry. Learn more at andreastolpe.com.
