When talking about his writing process, author, Tom Wolfe once said:
“I always have a clock in front of me. Sometimes, if things are going badly, I will force myself to write a page in a half an hour. I find that can be done. I find that what I write when I force myself is generally just as good as what I write when I’m feeling inspired. It’s mainly a matter of forcing yourself to write.”
He also went on to add that:
“…most writers don’t understand that the process begins by actually sitting down.”
For songwriters, this quote quietly dismantles one of the most persistent myths that we carry around: that songs begin with inspiration.
We love the image of the inspired songwriter. The idea that a song arrives fully formed, pulled from the air by emotion or circumstance. Those moments do happen, and they’re memorable when they do but treating them as the starting point of your songwriting process is where many songwriters get stuck.
Wolfe’s point is much simpler, and far less romantic. Writing starts when you sit down. Everything else is secondary and from a songwriting perspective, this shifts the focus away from mood and onto action.
Songs don’t begin because you feel ready. They begin because you decide to work on them. The act of sitting down with an instrument, a notebook, or a recording device is the real beginning of the process.
The clock that Wolfe mentions is also very important.
By giving himself thirty minutes and a clear goal, he removes the debate. There’s no space to wonder whether the words will be good enough or whether today is the right day to write. Time limits force engagement.
For a songwriter, that might mean committing to writing one verse, shaping a chorus melody, or free-writing lines without judging them.
Time boundaries also reduce hesitation. When there’s unlimited time, every decision feels heavy. When the clock is ticking, you move forward. You stop circling the same idea and start putting something down.
Progress replaces perfection.
One of the more confronting parts of Wolfe’s quote is his claim that forced writing is often just as good as inspired writing. Many songwriters assume that anything written under pressure must be of lesser quality.
In practice, the opposite is often true. Forced writing bypasses the inner critic. You don’t have time to polish, explain, or second-guess. You say what you mean and move on.
Most songs don’t fail because they were written too quickly. They fail because they were never finished. Rushed drafts can be refined. Songs that never make it past the idea stage can’t.
This connects directly to Wolfe’s observation that many writers don’t understand where the process actually begins. Songwriters are especially prone to confusing preparation with work.
Thinking about songs, collecting ideas, scrolling through chords, waiting for the right emotional state. These activities feel related to songwriting, but they are not the same thing as writing.
Writing is the part where something exists that didn’t exist before.
Treating songwriting as a practice rather than an event helps here. You show up regularly, regardless of how you feel. Some days you write something strong. Some days you write something forgettable.
Both are part of the same process. Consistency builds momentum, and momentum often creates clarity.
Inspiration, then, becomes a byproduct rather than a requirement. It tends to show up once you’re already working. Melodies emerge mid-verse. Lines connect halfway through a draft.
These moments don’t happen because you waited for them. They happen because you were already in motion.
At a practical level, this approach doesn’t need to be complicated. Set a timer for twenty or thirty minutes. Decide on one small task. Write until the time runs out. Stop. Come back tomorrow and do it again.
You’re not trying to write a perfect song in one sitting. You’re building a habit that gives songs a place to start. The real work of songwriting isn’t mysterious. It’s physical. It begins when you sit down.
The chair is the starting line. Inspiration is welcome to join you once you’re already there.
