We started our conversation on Instagram, as impromptu DM’s back and forth then shifting over to audio messages when we got too long-winded. A master of her songwriting craft, world-renowned performer and grammy recipient for best pop vocal performance and too many credits to list in the space of this article, everything she said carried deep meaning, from years of expertise gained the old-fashioned way in the music industry. To be clear, that means climbing her way up the rickety ladder of practice-makes-perfect, only she was self-assured enough to admit that self-doubt and perfectionism were still monkeys on her back. 

I shouldn’t be at all surprised to find that my idols struggle with the same doubt we all do. External validation doesn’t seem to extinguish the fear of being exposed as imposters. But it still moves me when major artists and writers express doubts about their capacity to continue to contribute, as if the contributions they’ve made were not totally within their control, and the sliver of luck involved in getting where they got is the smudge on the face of what ultimately defines them. 

To create is to be seen, and to be seen carries risk. Taking an altruistic stance and determining to create only for the benefit of helping others denies the value of helping oneself. Very quickly we venture into the psyche, a place where psychotherapists trained to walk with us through our particular brand of doubt is a sizable antidote compared to any knee-jerk web search. What seems to be the common thread is that no song is ever truly finished, no expression ever perfectly communicated, no doubt ever fully extinguished. Some things can’t be changed, so like the wise invocation suggests, the key is in knowing the difference.

When we sit down to write, no one can tell us why we do it, what is good writing, or whether it’s a good use of our time. We can only control what we make, and only in so much as we understand the gears and levers that went into making it. Self-doubt isn’t going anywhere, but whether it’s a little voice or a second-tier heckler, we can always decide how we respond to it. Some doubt is good doubt, reminding us that we don’t like writing the same song over and over again. It persuades us to rewrite when it’s easier to ignore the problem, to explore different chord voicings, seek out other musicians for support, or wait to record something until we’ve tweaked it. Other doubt is paralyzing, and it’s up to us to recognize it by the lack of fruit and visit a different fruit stand. Peaches aren’t always in season, and we can throw a tantrum about that, or write apples for awhile. The instruction is out there, and sometimes we have to change our expectations to get at it.

The bottom line is that if self-doubt and perfectionism are present in our process, it means we’ve landed and the air is fine. For me, the quicker I can accept that both the resulting song AND the process won’t feel completely comfortable all the way through, the more swiftly the current of creativity flows. Invite doubt and perfectionism along on the journey, and don’t expend any energy bracing against them. They’re how we know art is art and not data. And then, write anyway. 

If you’re looking to expand your songwriting tool kit, check out one of my upcoming songwriting retreats.

Stay Creative,