“I have more self-doubt than any writer I’ve ever known… The positive aspect of self-doubt, if you can channel it into useful activity instead of being paralyzed by it, is that by the time you reach the end of a novel, you know precisely why you made every decision in the narrative, the multiple purposes of every metaphor and image.” – Dean Koontz
Yes, I know… Dean Koontz was talking about writing novels, but if you replace “narrative” with “song,” this quote hits home for just about every songwriter I know (including myself).
Let’s be honest: songwriting is full of self-doubt.
We second-guess lyrics, melodies, chord progressions, arrangements, even the idea of whether the song deserves to exist. And yet, that very doubt, when handled right, can shape songs into something far more deliberate, meaningful, and finished.
Self-Doubt: The Uninvited Guest That Shows You Care
Most songwriters, especially those in it for the long haul, are familiar with that nagging feeling: Is this any good? Has this already been written? Am I just kidding myself?
But here’s the thing, doubt doesn’t show up unless you’re aiming for something worthwhile. If you didn’t care about the craft, the connection, or the emotional truth of the song, you wouldn’t be worried in the first place.
Self-doubt is a symptom of wanting your work to matter. That alone makes it useful.
Paralysis vs. Progress: The Two Paths of Doubt
Koontz nails the fork in the road: self-doubt either stops you in your tracks, or it sharpens your process. One leads to piles of half-finished ideas. The other leads to songs where every decision is intentional.
As a songwriter, the difference comes down to how you use the doubt:
- Do you let it overwhelm you and shut things down?
- Or do you let it ask better questions about what the song needs?
Channeling Doubt Into Creative Decisions
The trick is to treat self-doubt not as the enemy, but as an editor. Not the kind that tears everything down, but the kind that asks just enough questions to help you dig deeper.
Some examples:
- Is this lyric too vague, or does it leave room for the listener’s imagination?
- Does the melody follow the emotional arc of the song, or does it just sound “fine”?
- Am I leaning on cliché out of laziness, or is there a sharper way to say this?
- What happens if I cut the bridge altogether?
This kind of internal dialogue isn’t a problem. It’s the beginning of true craftsmanship.
By the End, You Know Why Everything Exists
This is the golden payoff of channelling your doubt. By the time you reach the end of a song (whether it’s your first draft or final mix) you know why each decision is there:
- Why the chorus melody lifts just when the lyrics open up.
- Why you used “crashing” in verse one and “falling” in verse two.
- Why the second verse strips the production back.
- Why the harmonies enter in the last line of the bridge.
The song stops being a random patchwork of ideas. It becomes intentional.
What That Looks Like in Practice
Here are a few ways to make your doubt work for you:
- Write fast, edit slow.
Get the ideas down without judgment. Let doubt come later during the refining stage. - Use the “Why Test.”
Ask “Why is this here?” for every lyric, chord, or section. If you can’t answer, dig deeper. - A/B Test Your Own Ideas.
Record two different chorus options and step away. Listen later with fresh ears and no ego. - Separate Creation From Correction.
Don’t critique while you’re writing. Let the song come out messy. Judgement has its time, later. - Ask One Trusted Person.
Not ten. Not the whole internet. Just one thoughtful person who will tell you what’s working and what isn’t.
What Happens When You Embrace It
Once you stop fighting the doubt and start using it, a strange thing happens: you become more confident. Not because the doubt is gone, but because you’ve learned how to work with it. You’re not just guessing anymore, you’re making deliberate choices.
That clarity stays with you. It helps you defend your creative decisions in co-writing sessions, in the studio, or in interviews where someone asks, “What’s this song really about?”
More importantly, it helps you stand by your song long after it’s done because you know you gave it everything you had.
Self-doubt doesn’t have to be a block, it can be a blueprint. When it pushes you to be more curious, more intentional, and more precise, it becomes one of the most powerful tools in your songwriting toolkit.
So next time that inner critic pipes up, don’t shut it down. Hand it a notepad and let it earn its place in the room.
But allow me to ask… “How do you deal with doubt while writing? Does it stop you, or shape you?”
Let me know your thoughts and let’s stop pretending confidence means never questioning ourselves. Sometimes, the best songs come from the questions we dared to ask.
