How to Write a Song

How do you know, out of all the possibilities in this vast world, what to write a song about?

Here’s a simple path: What’s on your mind right now? What do you love or hate? What are you daydreaming about? What are you kvetching in the group text about? What keeps you up at night?

This kind of mini-obsession is a good sign that you have a personal connection with something, which will lead to flowing and intuitive thoughts. A hyper-personal connection is key, especially if you want to write about a grand topic. Think of a song as a conversation between the singer and the listener; conversations hit the hardest when they’re eyeball-to-eyeball. Bring yourself to the world, rather than the world to yourself.

If that path doesn’t feel fruitful: Pick a creator you love and write from their perspective. Notice I didn’t say “songwriter,” though if you love Paul McCartney or Tyler, The Creator, that’s great. But you can also pick an author, filmmaker, playwright, or video game designer—anyone who creates. What would they write about? Paradoxically, sometimes walking in someone else’s path unlocks something personal within yourself that you didn’t know was there.

Once you find a subject and your point of view on it, you want the title of your song to say it all in as little words as possible (this will likely be the chorus or hook of your song, too). For some songwriters, starting at this top-level headline and working your way down may be helpful. For others, you may want to start with the nuts-and-bolts songwriting before retroactively titling. Either way, remember to be concise and clear.

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There’s lots of ways to construct a song and lots of ways to experiment with established form. But if you’re looking for a template—to follow or to purposely drift away from—here’s a song structure you’ll find in many contemporary tunes. To illustrate, we’ll use an objectively popular song with an almost comically clear thesis: “We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together” by Taylor Swift. Give it a fresh listen with this structure in mind. 

Verse 1

Tell us the story of why you’re writing this song. Fill us in on the background details we need to know. The song is driving us to the message of the chorus. How do the first few miles hint at our destination?

I remember when we broke up the first time/ Saying, “This is it, I’ve had enough,” ’cause like/ We hadn’t seen each other in a month/ When you said you needed space (What?)/ Then you come around again and say/ “Baby, I miss you and I swear I’m gonna change, trust me”/ Remember how that lasted for a day?/ I say, “I hate you,” we break up, you call me, “I love you.”

Pre-chorus 1

This small section of music is pure crescendo, a rising piece of heat that explodes into the song’s thesis. What’s the last thing you need to say before you lay all your cards on the table?

Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh/ We called it off again last night, but/ Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh/ This time, I’m telling you, I’m telling you…

Chorus 1

The opinion of your song stated cleanly and purely. Think simple, catchy, and “an arena full of people singing along.”

We are never, ever, ever getting back together/ We are never, ever, ever getting back together/ You go talk to your friends, talk to my friends, talk to me/ But we are never, ever, ever, ever getting back together/ Like, ever.

Verse 2

Now that we have our thesis stated simply, we don’t need to build anything up anymore. You can use this space to play with your ideas. If the chorus is true, what else is true about your story or your world?

I’m really gonna miss you picking fights/ And me falling for it, screaming that I’m right/ And you would hide away and find your peace of mind/ With some indie record that’s much cooler than mine.

Pre-chorus 2

Crescendo again—and don’t be afraid to repeat exactly what you did in pre-chorus 1, or you can alter it just slightly.

Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh/ You called me up again tonight, but/ Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh/ This time, I’m telling you, I’m telling you…

Chorus 2

Same as before, louder!

Bridge

Here, give us “something different,” either musically, lyrically, or both. In some rock songs, this is just a guitar solo. In some pop songs, this is just one word repeated and echoed for a few bars. What’s another way of looking at your topic that we haven’t seen yet?

I used to think that we were forever, ever/ And I used to say, “Never say never”/ [spoken] Ugh, so he calls me up and he's like, “I still love you”/ And I’m like, “I just, I mean, this is exhausting, you know?/ Like, we are never getting back together, like, ever.”

Final chorus

The most emotionally powerful version of this yet. You can repeat it or modify it as you see fit. End with a strong and bold performance, then close the book firmly.

We (Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh-ooh, no)/ Getting back together/ We (Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh, oh, oh)/ Getting back together (Yeah)/ You go talk to your friends, talk to my friends, talk to me (Talk to me)/ But we are never, ever, ever, ever getting back together.

You likely already have some snatches of lyrical ideas. I would encourage you to begin writing those down quickly, from brain to paper (or word processor) with as little filter as possible. Songwriting—really, any art form—tries to turn unconscious obsessions into conscious statements, so it’s helpful to start with the most unfiltered thoughts you have.

Once you’ve got a collection of unorganized notes, the logic puzzle begins. Use the guidemaps of song structure and rhyming to put these words in a coherent order. Focus on drilling these ideas down to their essentials, with an eye toward memorability. Let the primal power of the “unconscious thoughts” guide you to any conscious stopgaps you have to fill in between ideas.

Most importantly: RhymeZone is your friend, but it will often suggest words and phrases people don’t really use in real life. Use your friend tastefully. 

A chord is any combination of three or more notes that create a distinct, harmonious sound, while a melody is a series of notes that make up the driving, underlying tune of a song. When you dig in and realize there is essentially an endless amount of possible chords and melodies, it can feel overwhelming. 

Keep it simple. Like with lyrics, start by jotting down or voice-recording any snippets of sound that come to mind, no matter the context (though if there are any lyrics attached to these melodies, all the better). 

When it comes to sorting through your melodies, arranging them sensibly, and adding melodic and chordal passages as needed, sit down with your instrument of choice and consider your intuition. What chords intuitively lead into the next? Where does that melody “want” to go, based on our shared history of popular music? Do you want to lead into exactly what the ear is trained to hear or purposely subvert expectations? 

Unless you’re going for a complicated jazz-fusion-type tune, I’ll advise you to start with musical decisions that err on the side of simplicity and repetition. Humans love popular music because of these facets, not despite them. Many of the most successful songs of all time share the same backbones, even if they don’t “sound” the same: “Let It Be” by the Beatles and “What’s My Age Again?” by Blink-182, for example, both utilize the common C-G-Am-F chord progression. 

By the end of writing your song, you’ll have heard your melodies a million times and may be sick of them, but if you’re really cooking, your audience will hear them just once and want to hear them a million times more. And if none of these musical thoughts make sense, if music theory reads like another, unlearned language to you, don’t be afraid to collaborate with or hire a more musically minded partner. Different people are gifted in different areas, and no matter how the sausage is made, everyone will be excited to taste your final, musical dish.