Hey Reader, Lyric writing is perhaps the most vulnerable part of songwriting.

Chords, ultimately, are maths. Extraordinary maths that can make us feel something—but maths all the same. We rarely feel as though we’re exposing our raw selves when we play a G chord.

Lyrics, though?

Lyrics are different.

For many songwriters, they’re the most fear-filled part of taking that next step and sharing your work—whether that means playing a song for your partner, standing up at an open mic, or releasing a recording into the world.

Lyric writing is also surrounded by an extraordinary amount of false mythology.

So, here are five beliefs I would like to eliminate from your writing life right now—so you can write better lyrics and feel more confident about sharing them.

1. You need to have experienced trauma, heartbreak or some extraordinary life event before you have anything worth saying.

NO. You don’t.

Every human being has something worth saying. You can’t help it.

Simply by being alive, you are subject to experience, perspective and emotion. Your life is entirely unique. No one else has ever occupied your precise vantage point.

The work is not to manufacture an extraordinary life. It is to train your attention—to notice the details, contradictions, images and emotions already present in the life you have.

2. You either “have it” or you don’t. You’re either born Bob Dylan, or you shouldn’t even try.

NO.

Even the greats practised. They learned, experimented, wrote bad songs, followed strange ideas, abandoned drafts, revised their work and got better over time.

Natural ability differs from person to person, of course. But lyric writing is not a magical substance bestowed upon a chosen few.

It is a craft. And craft can be developed.

3. You can’t learn to write better lyrics. You just need to be in tune with the muse and let them flow out of you.

HOGSWALLOP.

Lyric writing is as much about how you say something as what you say.

Lyrics have structure, movement, rhythm, sound, tension, release, perspective and emphasis. Just like music, visual art—or any other art form—there are compositional elements that can be identified, isolated and practised.

You can learn where to place an important idea so it lands with more force. You can learn how to use sound and rhyme without becoming predictable. You can learn how to turn a vague emotion into a vivid image.

The muse is welcome, obviously. But it’s useful to have some actual tools in the room as well.

4. If I’m not inspired, I shouldn’t write. I should wait for the sparkly tingle of a great idea.

EH-HEM. Nope. Sorry.

Too many writers, artists and makers have arrived at the same universal truth for us to ignore it:

Your creative work depends on your willingness to show up, regardless of how inspired you feel.

Inspiration is wonderful when it arrives. But a reliable writing practice cannot depend entirely on something so unreliable.

Often, the spark appears after you begin—not before.

5. If the whole lyric doesn’t come out at once, in one sitting, the idea probably wasn’t good enough.

NO, SWEETHEART. Your idea is fine.

The real issue is that the sauce that helps you start a song is not necessarily the same sauce you need to develop and finish it.

Starting often requires openness, play and intuition.

Finishing requires different skills: making decisions, developing an idea, creating movement between sections, finding contrast, identifying what the song most needs to say and revising until the whole thing holds together.

That is its own skill set. Luckily, it’s one you can learn, practise and strengthen.

I’ve put together a short-and-sweet playlist of lyric-writing tutorials that you can watch for free on our blog:

​Explore the lyric-writing playlist here​

The tutorials are designed to show you—quickly and practically—that lyric writing is not a mysterious gift reserved for a special few.

There are specific tools, techniques and exercises that can help you generate an abundance of lyric ideas, turn those ideas into lyrics that feel personal, meaningful and deeply relatable, and develop a repeatable process for finishing what you start.

Write for life,

Keppie