Most people are familiar with the call-and-response music form, which is quite synonymous with African music, and the verse-chorus structure, which remains the most common in modern popular music. Both forms feel natural to us because they mirror how we live, speak, and express emotion; sometimes through repetition, dialogue, and stories.

As songwriters, we move through a wide spectrum of themes: romance, joy, heartbreak, birth, death, longing, conflict, healing, celebration, loneliness, and every unnamed feeling in between. The truth is that we tend to flow and write better about the things we’ve lived through. Life gives us vocabulary. Experience gives us texture. When we’ve felt something deeply, translating it into lyrics comes more naturally because the emotion is already sitting close to the surface.

But the challenge begins when we haven’t lived the experience. A client requests a heartbreak song when we are in love. Someone wants a triumph anthem when we’re still climbing our own hills. A brief demands a story that isn’t ours, yet the expectation is that we’ll deliver something authentic enough to resonate with thousands of listeners. And, of course, the payment doesn’t care whether we’ve “been there” or not.

So what do we do when the emotion isn’t ours, but the assignment still stands? How do we stay true to the song, the listener, and ourselves? This is where the ABC of songwriting comes in. A simple but powerful way to approach creativity, especially in moments when your emotional experience doesn’t naturally align with the brief.

Every great song begins with awareness. Awareness of the theme. Awareness of the emotional destination. Awareness of the listener we are writing for. Before we start writing, we must understand what the song needs to become. If it’s a love song, what shade of love? Tender? Complicated? Playful? If it’s a sorrowful ballad, what kind of sadness? Loss? Regret? Yearning?

Awareness allows us as songwriters to approach the song intentionally. It encourages keen observation of people, listening to real stories, and paying attention to the small human details we often overlook. Sometimes, we don’t necessarily need to have lived every experience; we need to understand it well enough to translate it with sincerity.

A good reference was Late South African musician Hugh Masekela's song, "Stimela." In this song, he sang about black miners who were forced from their homes to work in the gold and coal mines during the apartheid era.

Songwriting isn’t only about personal experience; it’s also about empathy. When the emotion isn’t ours, remember, we are allowed to borrow. Borrow from conversations, films, books, documentaries, other songs, or even the silent moments we’ve witnessed in other people’s lives. Before you condemn this thought, note that borrowed emotion doesn’t make our writing false. In fact, some of the world’s greatest songs were written from emotions the songwriter observed rather than experienced. An example is The Boomtown Rats' "I Don't Like Mondays." Bob Geldof was said to have written the song in response to a news report about a school shooting in San Diego in 1979, carried out by a teenage girl who, when asked for her motive, simply replied, "I don't like Mondays."

Borrowing teaches us how to hold another person’s story gently, respectfully, and creatively. It helps us create distance from the theme while still writing from a place of connection. Because at the end of the day, songwriting is a dance between what we feel and what we understand about how others think.

When the emotion fades or isn’t ours to begin with, craft becomes your anchor. Craft is the discipline of songwriting. It is the skill, the technique, the structure, the deliberate choices that shape the final piece. It’s the talent that remains dependable when inspiration slips away.

Craft carries the weight of imagery, phrasing, rhythm, repetition, contrast, rhyme, and arrangement. It’s what helps us build verses that rise, choruses that land, and bridges that shift the story forward. With solid craft, even a borrowed emotion becomes believable because we’ve given it form, shape, and musical meaning.

Once we understand the ABC, we begin to see songwriting as a balance between vulnerability and architecture. Some days, we are just the vessel, pouring out our lived experience. Other days, we are the architect, building a world that isn’t ours but feels true enough to move someone else. Both roles matter. Both are valid. And both make us a better songwriter.

Because at its heart, songwriting isn’t always about telling our own story; it’s about telling a story that deserves to be heard, whether or not we were the one who lived it. The ABC helps us write with empathy, clarity, and purpose, no matter where the emotion originates.

As songwriters, we move through a wide spectrum of themes: romance, joy, heartbreak, birth, death, longing, conflict, healing, celebration, loneliness, and others.

The ABC of Songwriting

As songwriters, we move through a wide spectrum of themes: romance, joy, heartbreak, birth, death, longing, conflict, healing, celebration, loneliness, and others.

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