Practical Advice for Songwriting

Teaching Philosophy of getting from 0-2 as a songwriter

Here is an essay I wrote while creating the announcement for Songwriter Activation Circle, “Writing Your Truest Songs.” It’s a rough outline and explanation of the broad-strokes pedagogy and best practices for becoming an authentic, prolific and grounded songwriter.

In my subtitle, “0-1” would be not writing a song to writing one. “1-2” is writing a song to easily writing wonderful songs all the time.

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Writing songs teaches you how to write songs. Developing a refined voice requires the integration of two simple things: become prolific and be present. So, of course, write as much as you can. There’s a reason many artists have “mental illness;” you have to be a little crazy or obsessive invest so much into your craft. For those of us approaching from a grounded place: we just need to be crazy enough to trust what naturally comes out – then, allow yourself to sit with what gets created. As you complete more and more songs, you will have more and more opinions about how it “should” be – and more ease with the process of making intentional choices that result in a finished song. Even if your creations routinely “miss the mark,” you will develop an invaluable asset: the wisdom of experience.

Every work of art is at its core an improvisation. Even in revision, you don’t know exactly how the choice will affect the whole. Successful artists still do trial and error; they just have more experience than you. But what do you have that those artists don’t? You.

In order to write your best, truest, most resonant songs, you have to resonate with the the most meaningful places inside you. In writing tons of songs, there is one cheat code: become totally willing to make bad art. The most potent soil is fertilized by the decomposition of past experiences and identities. To resonate deeply with others, you must be willing to do the dirty work of connecting with emotions, images, and parts of yourself that may not flatter your self-image. At first, you may not know what those feelings sound like. Your art may sound like someone venting. You won’t be able to consider craft very carefully because the song may feel so personal, unknowable, or urgent. It’s okay. You’ll be shedding layers, and working toward plumbing the depth of your experience. As you get comfortable bringing your whole self to this process, you create a relationship with that elusive space of “so personal it’s universal.”

As you write and perform your first batches of songs, you become familiar with the journey required to understand and appreciate your output. New work is so new to us, we often cannot recognize it immediately after it's done – though, enjoy the satisfaction of completing a song. Allow the inner-reward to be the process itself. Avoid premature judgement, positive or negative; any judgment during the song-writing process can be corrosive to the process. The ideal improviser is willing to do anything at any time for any reason at all — or no reason. Guided by feel, rather than judgement, leads us to choices that resonate with us — rather than things we think might resonate with others. The truth is, adjudicating the value of many small choices is often not worth it. You may not be ready for that level of precision. It requires dynamic agentic sensitivity, cultivated through: experience.

Any choice can be good, if it is supported by choices around it. If you are singing and performing your own material, the value of a song, and the choices that comprise it, makes itself known over time. In other words, you often have to perform it to get to know it better. Some choices, like a good pair of shoes, may be uncomfortable at first. Over time, it mayl fit better as you live into it. Ultimately, you will feel resonance with some choices and not others. People who listen to your songs will tell you what it means and what impact it made on them.. Your future self — and future audiences — will thank you for finishing songs — as best you know how. In hindsight, there will be choices you like and choices you didn’t, but choices will have been made. Through this process, you will grow. Those who listen will be moved.

But, in inviting you to bring your “whole self,” you may not know what “you” sound like yet. At first, no one knows what they sound like. (And if you think you do – it will change!)  No one has ever been you before. No one has had the same experiences, personality traits, or amount of skill. Even if you intentionally – or unconsciously – imitate your favorite artists, you will never sound exactly like them. And imitation is a great way to go: no one will draw inspiration from the same cadre of artists as you. Over time, shades of imitation develops your unique voice. Creating imitation games for yourself will help you work with “restrictions” and inspirations. You can learn to write surrealistic image-based by studying and emulating Bob Dylan; pithy sincerity by working with Daniel Johnstol; working with Adriane Lenker’s impressionistic images and captivating fingerpicking. As you work with the inner and outer elements, the focus vacillates between the inner and outer world. 

However, the inner-world is key: you have to be willing to go inside, sit with yourself, and trust whatever comes out. Over time you will know what You Actually Sound Like. And then you will keep evolving. Not judging your material is the number one path to getting there. I’ll repeat this. There will be follies. There will be sophomoric, staid, bland and lame attempts. Keep going. Flowers become fruits, and contain many seeds: yet only a few become trees. Most seeds get eaten or simply thrown away. Waste products are necessary. Don’t apologize for being an artist. 

This may sound clear, empowering, and martial. You may be on a great streak, and making tons of art. However, we are not AI or robots: we are people, who need community. Simply getting a kick in the pants by an essay may help, but likely won’t alter the game too much. We require practice. We require humans that believe in us. Relationships to other beings, especially people — especially those of us who make our lives as artists – helps us continue to engage with our practices. Whether it is believing in ourselves, knowing when to take a break, finding new insight about our medium, or learning about an inspiring arist: friends and community members help.  As artists, we spend so much time alone, immersed in our own craft, living in constructed worlds of our own imagining and longing. Supportive relations radically improve your standard of living, reducing the pain and suffering necessary to create your work and strive toward your dreams. 

In this circle, we explore the best practices for giving and receiving feedback. Often, two or more ears listening to song – without any feedback – creates new space to gain perspective on the song. Fresh efforts are delicate, and other people resonating with your performance can be less disruptive. However, conversation about our process can often dislodge common blocks. Together, we holistically consider our lifestyles, and poke at what challenges us from making our art every day.

A core practice for all songwriters is learning to write a ”simple” song in a single sitting. I advise getting a timer. Every day, after taking a walk, drinking water, brushing your teeth and doing morning pages, you can set it 20-30 minutes. Even those of us with shorter attention spans or busy lives can plumb our depths and commit to getting it down on the page, and demoed on our voice recorder. This can be a protected space. A sanctuary for imagining. For beauty. Or for ugliness. It doesn’t matter what’s in it: just finish it. You don’t have time to radically alter course; that’s what the next song is for.

While this practice is core to our development, flexible invitations to practice will be made. Members of this circle will focus on what matters to them as individuals. We will share demos, lyrics, inquiries, and stumbling blocks with our fellow writers. I’ll be doing these practices alongside you, and seeing what new growth is in it for me.  

Practicing art is practicing magic. It requires courage to go to unexplored and potentially dark places. By gathering for four weeks, getting to know each other and ourselves more deeply, emanating light and care, we create a field of courage to face the darkness, connect with the truth, and begin to serve the earth by bringing our most beautiful songs to the world. 

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Nate is a one-of-a-kind educator. After years in improv theatre (ImprovBoston), lecturing at Tufts and Harvard School of Education, and giving concerts in classical music halls, as a composer and pianist, (BA Brandeis, MA Tufts), he insists on the unity between types of art and creative practices. His weeks contain a lot of mentorship and coaching, in and out of music. As a bonafide teaching artist, his teaching explicates and nourishes his creative work; and his creative work researches novel intersections and phenomenologies within established musical cultures.  

He loves men’s work, cold plunges, tai chi, contact improv, improvising concerts, doing his morning pages (sometimes), and playing Chopin. Currently, he’s practicing some classical piano, hosting events & building musical community in Boston, and navigating the stumper of recording his own songs. He is now bringing his unique creative pedagogies to corporations, more info at nateshaffer.com or reach out at howdoyouspellthis@gmail.com