You know, there’s a particular weight that unfinished songs carry.
Not the kind that sits loudly on your desk, but the quiet kind. The song you keep meaning to start. The lyric you circled weeks ago. The melody that showed up once and then vanished because you didn’t catch it in time.
These songs don’t shout at you. They hum in the background, gently but persistently reminding you that you’re avoiding something.
Author Annie Lamott captured this feeling perfectly when she wrote:
“Stop NOT writing. Just do it, badly. Just write the thing you need or want to write, that you are avoiding. That avoidance is costing you greatly, isometrically, and in general well-being. So can you find one measly hour, to write, badly?”
Although Lamott was speaking to writers, she could just as easily have been talking to us songwriters.
The Real Message Behind “Write It Badly”
This quote isn’t about giving up on quality. It’s not permission to stop caring about craft. It’s permission to stop waiting.
Most songwriters don’t struggle because they can’t write songs. They struggle because they expect the first version to already be good.
They wait for the right mood, the right chord, the right opening line, or the moment when it all feels worth starting. Until then, the song stays unwritten, and the pressure builds.
Lamott’s point is simple and uncomfortable: avoidance costs more than effort. Not writing drains energy, confidence, and joy. Writing badly, on the other hand, releases the pressure. It gets the song out of your head and into the world where it can be shaped.
How This Shows Up for Songwriters
Songwriters are especially good at hiding from songs.
We tell ourselves we’re waiting for inspiration. Or that the idea isn’t strong enough yet. Or that we don’t want to waste it by doing it wrong. So the song sits there, half-formed, quietly becoming heavier each day.
“Just write it badly” for a songwriter means allowing:
- Obvious rhymes
- Clumsy lines
- Predictable chord progressions
- Melodies that feel flat or unfinished
- Lyrics that sound more like journal entries than songs
None of these are problems. They’re starting points. Almost every finished song you admire began life as something awkward and incomplete.
Bad Songs Are Not the Enemy
There’s a myth that productive songwriters only write good songs.
In reality, productive songwriters write lots of songs. Many of them never see the light of day. They exist to clear space, to teach something, or to lead to the next idea. Bad songs aren’t failures. They’re part of the process that makes good songs possible.
When you avoid writing because you’re afraid of writing something bad, you’re not protecting your craft. You’re starving it.
The Hidden Cost of Avoidance
Lamott talks about avoidance costing us “in general well-being,” and this is especially true for songwriters.
When you identify as someone who writes songs but don’t actually write them, something goes out of alignment. Confidence erodes. The gap between who you are and what you’re doing widens. Over time, that gap starts to feel like guilt, frustration, or self-doubt.
Writing badly, imperfectly, regularly keeps you connected to yourself. It reminds you that songwriting isn’t something you wait to deserve. It’s something you practice.
One Measly Hour Is Enough
You don’t need to finish the song today.
You don’t need the chorus to land. You don’t need to know what the song is about yet. You just need time with the instrument, the notebook, or the DAW. One hour of unfocused, imperfect songwriting does more for your creative health than weeks of thinking about writing.
That hour might produce nothing you keep. That’s fine…
The real win is just showing up.
Songwriting Is Practice, Not Performance
We often treat songwriting as if every session needs to result in something shareable. That pressure kills momentum. Songwriting is closer to a daily practice than a public performance. Some days you discover something meaningful. Some days you simply keep the door open.
Writing badly is how you stay in the room long enough for better writing to arrive.
Stop Not Writing
If there’s a song you’re avoiding, pay attention. It’s probably asking to be written, not perfected.
Take Lamott’s advice and translate it directly to your craft. Stop not writing songs. Sit down. Make a mess. Write the wrong lines. Sing the wrong melody. Give yourself one measly hour and see what happens.
Silence costs more than sound. Even bad sound.
And bad songs, written honestly, are often the first steps toward the songs that really matter.
