Where Songs and Stories Meet
As someone who has spent years performing music and now writing fiction, I often get asked which came first — the music or the writing. The answer is… both. I’ve always seen songs as stories and stories as songs. It’s just the tools that change — sometimes it’s a guitar and a microphone, other times it’s a keyboard and an empty page.
For me, songwriting was never just about hooks or melodies. It was about people, emotions, and moments you could see as clearly as you could hear. I’ve always written songs with scenes in my head — like mini screenplays. Sometimes I didn’t realize it until later, but I was already crafting narratives long before I called myself a writer.
Writing Like a Musician, Singing Like a Novelist
Music taught me rhythm, brevity, and emotion — three things I carry with me when I sit down to write. A song doesn’t waste words. Neither should a paragraph.
When I was writing Pluto’s Revenge, I approached scenes almost like I would writing a setlist. There’s a rise and fall, an emotional build, and a need to end on a note that resonates. The characters had themes. The chapters had tempos. I don’t think I would’ve written the same way if I hadn’t lived onstage for so many years.
Likewise, my newer songs have been shaped by my work as a novelist. I find myself digging deeper into lyrics — caring more about the why than the how. My songs are more layered, more cinematic. They’re still singable, but they feel like chapters of a larger world.
What I’ve Learned from the Crossroads
Blending music and writing isn’t always easy — they demand different kinds of discipline. Music is fleeting. Writing is a slow burn. One night on stage can change everything. One novel might take years before it finds its audience.
But here’s the thing: both matter. Both create connection. And when they meet in the middle — when a song becomes a story, or a story sounds like a song — something powerful happens.
Final Thoughts
If you’re an artist juggling more than one craft, don’t worry about keeping them separate. Let them speak to each other. Let your creativity overlap. Some of my best ideas have come from that crossroads — and I plan on staying here for a while.