Ok, let’s set the scene here…
You’ve got the chorus. Or at least the feeling of one, turning over in your head. You know what the song wants to say at its peak. You can hear it.
Then you sit down to write the verse and nothing comes.
If that sounds familiar, here’s something worth knowing: that’s not a creativity problem. It’s a structural one. You can’t fill a job you haven’t defined, and most songwriters have never stopped to ask what a verse is actually for.
Now, Graham English over at Speed Songwriting has a clear-headed take on this that’s worth your time. The short version: once you understand what a verse is supposed to do, writing one becomes a lot more deliberate and a lot less painful.
Here’s what he covers, plus some thoughts from this end.
The Verse Has One Job (And It’s Not What You Think)
The default assumption is that a verse is a container. A place to put some words, maybe a rhyme scheme, some imagery, before the chorus shows up. Fill it, move on.
That’s not what a verse does.
A verse is a setup machine. Its job is to create the emotional conditions that make the chorus feel necessary to make the listener need what’s coming next.
The chorus declares. The verse earns it.
Think about Adele’s “Someone Like You.” The verse doesn’t announce heartbreak. It puts you in a specific moment: showing up uninvited, hearing someone has moved on, trying to hold it together.
By the time the chorus arrives, you don’t just hear the declaration, you feel the weight behind it. That’s the verse doing exactly what it’s supposed to do.
Once you know what the verse is building toward, you know what to put in it.
Start With the Chorus and Work Backwards
Here’s the move that changes everything.
If you already have a chorus (or even just the emotional core of one) that’s your starting point. Take your chorus idea and ask: what does the listener need to know, feel, or believe before this chorus makes sense?
That answer is your verse.
The verse and the chorus aren’t two separate ideas you’re trying to connect. The verse is the ground the chorus stands on.
Tracy Chapman’s “Fast Car” is a masterclass in this. Each verse advances the timeline, a gas station job, a plan to leave, a life that didn’t go the way they hoped.
The chorus is the same every time, but it means something different after each verse because the verse has raised the emotional stakes. That’s a great example of song construction.
Work backwards. Know your chorus first, then figure out what the listener needs before it arrives.
Three Questions to Answer Before You Write a Single Lyric
Before you touch the actual words, Graham suggests answering three questions in plain language. Fast, no editing, first honest answer.
Question 1: Where is the character emotionally before the chorus?
The chorus is the peak, the declaration, the release, the moment of reckoning. Where is the character before they get there? Still in the middle of it, trying to hold on, pretending not to notice? Find the emotional position before the peak and write from there.
Question 2: What does the listener need to understand for the chorus to make sense?
This is the setup question. What context does the listener need to receive the chorus the way you intend it? The answer is usually one specific thing, not the full backstory of the relationship.
Question 3: What is the one specific detail that puts the listener in this moment?
This one is the most important. Vague verses produce vague emotional responses. The detail is what makes the scene real. Not “I was sad driving home” but “I took the long way back just to avoid your street.” One specific, physical, true-sounding detail anchors the whole verse. Find it before you write anything else.
Answer all three in plain sentences. No lyrics yet. Just honest, plain-language answers. Then circle the specific detail from Question 3 and keep it in front of you.
The Opening Line Is Everything
This is where a lot of verses quietly fall apart before they’ve even started.
A weak opening line won’t improve by the fourth line. It will get worse, because the writer loses the thread and starts improvising without a scene to stay in. The opening line is not where you warm up. It’s where you commit.
Graham puts two lines side by side on the same emotional territory:
“I’ve been thinking about us lately” – vague, static, no scene, nothing to follow.
“I drove past your apartment on the way to work again” – specific, physical, implies a habit the character knows is a problem.
The second line tells you exactly where to go next. The first leaves you stranded.
Your verse will follow the thread of your opening line. Make sure it’s a thread worth following.
That specific detail you circled in Question 3? That’s where your opening line comes from.
A 15-Minute Framework for a Working Draft
Set a timer. Follow the steps in order and don’t skip ahead.
Minutes 1-3: Write down what your chorus is saying in one sentence. Capture the feeling and the declaration, not the actual lyrics. What does it land on emotionally?
Minutes 4-8: Answer the three questions. One sentence each. No lyrics yet, just honest, plain-language answers. Circle the specific detail from Question 3 and keep it visible.
Minutes 9-11: Write your opening line using that specific detail. One line, scene-setting, forward-moving. If it’s vague, make it more concrete. That’s the only rule at this stage.
Minutes 12-15: Write 6-8 lines starting from your opening line. Stay in the setup. Don’t reach for the chorus idea before you’ve earned it. End on a line that makes the listener need what’s coming next.
Then read it straight into the chorus. If the chorus feels like a relief, you have a working draft.
Record a voice memo straight away so the melody doesn’t disappear then come back to it the next day with fresh ears.
Verse 2: How Not to Repeat Yourself
Verse 2 is where most songs fall apart. By the time the first chorus has played, the writer has already said the thing they most wanted to say. Verse 2 has to advance the story at a higher emotional level without repeating what Verse 1 established.
Two techniques that work:
Move the timeline forward. Verse 1 is the before, Verse 2 is the after. Or Verse 1 is early in the story and Verse 2 is later. “Fast Car” does this cleanly, the scene shifts, the stakes rise, and the core emotional question stays the same.
Each verse is a different moment in the same story, not the same moment told twice.
Shift the emotional angle. Verse 1 shows what happened. Verse 2 shows what it meant. The first verse puts the listener in the moment, and the second verse pulls back slightly to show what the character understands now that wasn’t visible then. Same story, different altitude.
One practical tip worth adding here: try writing Verse 2 first sometimes. It sounds counterintuitive, but you’ll often find that Verse 2 clarifies what Verse 1 was actually trying to say.
Four Signs Your Verse Isn’t Working
If something feels off but you can’t put your finger on it, run your verse against these four checks:
It sounds like the chorus. The verse is already at peak emotional intensity, which means the chorus has nowhere to go. Pull the verse back, lower the stakes, ground it in scene, and stay in the setup rather than the declaration.
It’s too vague. No scene, no character, no specific detail. The fix is almost always one concrete image. Find the physical, sensory, or situational detail that makes the moment real and build the verse around that.
It doesn’t end somewhere that needs the chorus. The verse closes on a complete thought instead of a question, a tension, or an incomplete sentence. End it one step earlier, at the moment the listener is leaning forward.
It’s longer than it needs to be. A verse has one job. Once it’s done that job, the chorus should arrive. If you’re adding lines to fill time, the verse probably ended two lines ago.
Put It to Work
The main thing to take from Graham’s method is the reframe: a verse block is a structural problem, not a creative one. That shift in thinking changes how you approach the blank page. Instead of waiting for inspiration to show up, you’re asking specific questions and following where the answers lead.
Find the song you’ve been avoiding (you know, the one with the strong chorus idea and no verse) and run it through the 15-minute framework. Answer the three questions, find your specific detail, commit to an opening line, and write the rest from there.
The verse earns the chorus its moment. Go write it.
Source: https://speedsongwriting.com/how-to-write-a-verse-in-a-song/
