“If you’re going to try, go all the way. Otherwise, don’t even start.”
— Charles Bukowski
There’s a brutal kind of beauty in that quote. Bukowski wasn’t talking about songwriting, but he might as well have been. Because if you’re serious about writing songs that matter (not just clever lines or catchy choruses, but something that cuts deep) then you’re going to have to pay for it.
Not in money (though yes, there’s that too), but in time, energy, relationships, rejection, isolation, and doubt.
And if you’re not willing to carry that cost, you might find yourself stuck forever in the middle, you know, writing safe songs that never quite land, chasing approval instead of truth and wondering why it all feels hollow.
But here’s the kicker: the cost is the proof. It’s what separates the ones who are all in from the ones who are just visiting.
Let’s talk about what that really looks like and why it’s absolutely worth it.
What “Going All the Way” Actually Means for a Songwriter
Did you know that there’s a difference between writing songs and being a songwriter?
A songwriter doesn’t just wait for inspiration to strike. They show up when it’s inconvenient, when it’s lonely, when it hurts.
They chase a line at 1am. They record 40 versions of a chorus that still doesn’t feel quite right. They finish what they start.
Going all the way means this isn’t just something you do, it’s something you live through.
That kind of commitment? It comes at a price.
What You Might Lose Along the Way
Time and Energy
You won’t always get to binge that new series. You’ll miss events, turn down plans, or pull back from things you used to say yes to.
Why? Because this song is nagging you. That melody is just sitting there, waiting. And if you don’t catch it now, you know it’ll fade.
Creative energy doesn’t punch a clock. It shows up when it wants to and it often wants your undivided attention.
Social Pressure and Relationships
People around you may not understand.
They might get frustrated when you disappear into your music. They might not see what you see — the vision, the commitment, the reason why this matters so much.
Sometimes they’ll ask: “Still doing that music thing?” Sometimes they won’t ask anything at all, they’ll just drift.
It’s not easy. But if this is what you’re meant to do, you’ll keep doing it anyway.
Mental and Emotional Strain
The more honest you are in your songs, the more they’ll cost you emotionally.
You’ll write lyrics that make your chest tighten. You’ll revisit memories you thought were buried. You’ll wonder if you’ve said too much, or not enough.
Self-doubt is always hovering. It’s a companion you learn to nod at, but not obey.
And then there’s burnout: the fear that you’ve already written your best song… and no one even heard it.
Still, you keep writing.
Money
This one’s obvious, but real: songwriting isn’t always cheap.
There’s studio time, gear, courses, memberships, distribution fees, and more. And until your songs start earning for you, the investment is mostly coming out, not in.
It’s easy to look at all that and wonder: Is this even worth it?
And the answer, if you’re built for this life, is: Yes. Always yes.
Discomfort Isn’t a Problem, It’s All Part of the Process
Most people want the result without the resistance.
But the truth is, the pain of songwriting is what gives it its weight. You can’t write songs that connect if you’re not willing to go where it hurts, in yourself, in your story, in your sound.
The discomfort is a filter. It weeds out the ones who just want attention from the ones who are actually here to say something.
If you’re uncomfortable, you’re doing it right.
Rejection: The Price of Trying
Rejection is baked into the life of a songwriter.
You’ll hear “no” more than you hear “yes.” You’ll send your best work into silence. You’ll get notes that sting.
But rejection isn’t a stop sign, it’s just a sign you’re putting your work out there. And that’s more than most ever do.
Reframe it: Rejection means you’re in motion. You’re reaching. You’re learning.
If it hurts, good. That means it mattered.
Loneliness: The Gift You Didn’t Ask For
Bukowski says, “Isolation is the gift.” It doesn’t feel like one at first.
But there’s something sacred about those solo moments with your instrument, your voice, your DAW, your notebook.
There’s no one watching. No one clapping. Just you, and the truth you’re trying to pull out of the fog.
Solitude gives you space to figure out what you actually think, feel, believe. It’s where your real voice starts to show up, not the one shaped by trends or expectations, but the one that sounds like you.
How to Carry the Cost Without Breaking
Going all the way doesn’t mean burning out. It means making room for the fire to burn sustainably.
Here’s how to manage the weight:
- Protect your process: Schedule non-negotiable time for writing. Even if it’s 30 minutes. Guard it.
- Create rituals: Light a candle, use the same pen, walk before you write, whatever grounds you.
- Talk to other songwriters: Community reminds you you’re not the only one walking this road.
- Return to your ‘why’ often: Write it down. Pin it up. Remind yourself what called you here.
- Accept the cycles: Creativity ebbs and flows. Your job is to keep showing up anyway.
Is It Worth It?
The short answer is… Yes.
The songs that live the longest in us and in others weren’t easy to write. They cost the writer something.
And that’s what gives them value.
So if you’re going to try, go all the way. Be willing to pay the price for something honest. Something real. Something that matters.
Because in the end, this is the good fight.
And if you’re in it, truly in it, you’re already winning.
