Hi Reader,

Most songwriters assume that getting better means learning more theory, finding stronger rhymes, upgrading their gear, or simply waiting for a worthier idea to arrive.

After years of teaching, writing, releasing, and watching hundreds of songwriters grow inside our programs, though, I've noticed something: the real breakthroughs tend to come from elsewhere.

They come from a handful of habits that, on the surface, look almost too ordinary to matter.

Here are three that genuinely change the game.

1. Write More. Get Comfortable With Mediocre.

This is the one no one wants to hear. If you want to write better songs, you need to write more songs — not more "important" songs, not more "career-defining" songs. Just more songs.

Jerry Seinfeld, who built one of the most disciplined creative practices in comedy, put it plainly:

"If you want to be a better runner, you better do some running every day. It shocks me that there are people who think they want something but then don't take any action."

Swap runner (or comedy) for songwriter and the point holds exactly.

Across creative fields, there's a well-worn philosophy: increase quantity to improve quality. When you lower the stakes and increase the reps, something powerful begins to happen. Your instincts sharpen. Your sense of form becomes intuitive. You waste less time second-guessing yourself, and you start recognising weak sections faster.

But when every song feels high-stakes — this has to be the one — pressure creeps in. And pressure does two corrosive things: it lowers quality, because you overwork everything, and it stops you finishing, because you're afraid it won't be good enough.

Your craft, your taste, your intuition — they are built through volume. Not through perfection.

2. Steal Structure, Not Ideas

A surprising path to better songwriting is to stop trying to be "original" in every direction at once. Instead, borrow structure. Take a song you love and map it: How long is the verse? Does the melody climb or descend? Where does the pre-chorus create tension? How many times does the chorus repeat?

You're not copying the melody. You're not copying the lyrics. You're borrowing the architecture — and we do this constantly in our teaching, because structure removes overwhelm. When the frame is solid, creativity flows more easily inside it. Originality, more often than not, lives in what you put inside the frame — not in the act of inventing the frame from scratch every time.

3. Manufacture Accountability (Even If It's Artificial)

Here's the uncomfortable truth: talent is rarely the bottleneck. Isolation is.

Tools like the Pomodoro Technique — 25 minutes, timer on, write until it goes off, stop — can dramatically increase output on their own.

But real accountability, by definition, involves other people: deadlines, expectations, someone waiting to hear what you've made. When you're writing completely alone, it's very easy to drift, to lose urgency, to wonder why it matters.

The fastest improvements I've ever witnessed are in songwriters who put themselves in situations where a deadline exists, a submission is required, and someone else will listen. It's not about pressure. It's about momentum.

Write for life, Keppie

PS: If you've never done one of our Songwriting Sprints, this is exactly what they're built for: gentle deadlines, warm accountability, low stakes, and real momentum. Registration for the next Sprint closes March 19th.

It's supportive, it's structured, and it's surprisingly powerful — and if you don't love it, you can ask for a refund. If you've been writing alone for a while… maybe it's time to try not doing that.