Running into a Brick Wall

"Running into a brick wall" is, in this case, a metaphor for getting stuck, something that everyone who has tried to create something (music, books, art, science, relationships, etc.) has probably experienced. Things may be proceeding swimmingly (i.e., smoothly) up to a point when you suddenly hit a proverbial wall. You feel stuck; you've tried x, y, and z, but none of them worked, and you feel at a loss as to how to proceed.

I wrote about this in part 8 of my "Composition Issues" series that I posted last August, and, because I know that at least one of you is feeling stuck right now, I thought I would revisit and significantly expand the part of my earlier blog post that deals with this issue:

There is no "one size fits all" solution for when you are stuck, so you may need to try several approaches until you discover one (or more) that helps you get out of your predicament. Here are some options to consider:

1. The "boot camp" approach: Suck it up, cupcake! Call upon your inner Rocky Mountain Bighorn and RAM that brick wall repeatedly until you break through! The main requirements for this are stubbornness on an epic scale and an extremely hard head, ideally equipped with ram horns and a concussion-proof skull. The upside is that it sometimes works! The downside is that it can lead to even greater frustration, which may make you feel like dumping the entire piece into the trash, which I strongly discourage. However, this "extreme stubbornness" approach can work, and it has worked for me at times, such as this: I had written about 30-40 seconds of a solo piano piece that I really liked, but no matter what I tried, I couldn't figure out a good way to continue the piece. I would revisit the piece periodically, until finally, ten years after I came up with the opening idea, I managed to "bull" my way past the section that had become an impediment, and I finished the piece about 2-3 months later. It became one of my all-time favourite pieces, and it has been played by a variety of pianists in different countries, including multiple venues in Japan, and at Carnegie Hall in New York.  It is "Dream Dance," if you want to check it out. 
2. When feeling stuck, we tend to focus our energies on getting unstuck from that point forwards. If we get stuck at bar 100, for example, we tend to spend days trying to progress past bar 100 in a way that makes musical sense. It may be, however, that the root of the problem occurred much earlier in the composition; we may need to go back several pages to identify the point where things began to go awry – such as bar 70 – and write a new continuation that improves the piece from that point forwards. We may need to scrap (or at least set aside) several pages of music, but it will be worth doing if it results in a better piece. And sometimes the music you removed turns out to fit nicely in a different section, or even in a different piece.
3. Analyze your music. We learn analytical tools to help us understand music better, but how often do you analyze your own music? You might be surprised at how often composers don't fully understand their own music until they analyze it. The composition process is inherently subjective, which makes it easy to lose perspective on your composition, but analysis forces us to think more objectively about it. Don't just browse the score to figure out where the major sections are; do a full structural analysis that includes pitch centres, cadence points and types, phrase structure, musical character, and formal structure.
4. Did you start with a plan? If not, now would be a good time to make one. A good starting point would be to analyze what you have written, then make your plan based on that. Plans can definitely be useful, but don't be afraid to change them as you go. In fact, it may be that we are stuck because the music we want to write at a particular point in the piece does not fit with the plan. In that case, change the plan.
5. Take a break – do something else for a while. Frequently all we need is a different perspective, which may be gained by simply not thinking about the piece for a couple of days.
6. Exercise. This is one of the things you can do while taking a break. Some scientists suggest that strenuous exercise releases endorphins in the brain that make us feel better. And if you feel better, you might be able to think more clearly about how to get out of the 'writer's block' that you are experiencing. The exercise does not have to be strenuous; many composers kept diaries in which they described taking long walks every day as a way to clear the mind. 
7. Lower the bar! Stop trying to write great (or even good) music! We can sometimes put too much pressure on ourselves when we do that. You may have to lower your level of expectations in order to finish the piece. You can always return to your composition later if you wish, and improve sections that are less than you feel they could or should be. But frankly, my advice is generally to finish the piece, and then move on to your next piece; your tenth composition will likely be better than your first one, or your first few, but you won't get to your tenth composition until you finish the first nine! Beethoven's first published works, the three Opus 1 piano trios, were not his first compositions; he had written over one hundred works before that. Nobody ever started out writing great music; it takes time to become a good composer.
   
   
   Beethoven's Opus 1; clearly not his first rodeo
   
   
8. MEET YOUR DEADLINE, NO MATTER WHAT! This is, or at least can be, related to the previous point. You are on the verge of panicking because a deadline is imminent, and you feel that if you blow it, YOU WILL NEVER WORK IN THIS TOWN AGAIN! Perhaps missing one deadline will not necessarily torpedo one's career, but below are a couple of scenarios that are possible:
1. If you are a student, some professors may give you a mark of zero if you miss a deadline, while others may impose a less Draconian penalty, such as a grade reduction of 10- 20%; you will not be forcibly removed from your Institution of Higher Learning for missing one deadline, of course. But even so, being penalized for missing a deadline is something that most of us would prefer to avoid.
2. If writing for professionals, or even non-professionals who have asked you to write something for an upcoming concert, missing a composition deadline is very bad form. The musicians (a) may decide against playing your piece if and when you finally manage to finish it, and (b) may not ever ask you to write something for them again, because you have added the stress of having to quickly reprogram their concert at the last minute, and any printed materials such as programmes and posters will need to be changed. And, if you develop a reputation for missing deadlines, it's a pretty safe bet that others will not ask to compose music for them either.

Neither of these situations is one that any of us would want to experience, obviously, so what I have done on at least two occasions that I can think of is this: Work like an obsessed crazy person for days on end, writing as much music as possible, all the while asking myself a simple question: Is it okay, or isn't it? If my answer is "yes," or "maybe… I guess so?" then I keep it and move onto the next part of my piece. If my answer is "no," or "this isn't terrible, but it kind of sucks!" then I try to improve it before moving on, or I set it aside and move on with the plan to return to the problem section later.

But I avoid asking myself if it's great, or, if it's good, then how can I make it better – both of which I constantly ask myself during my normal composition process if a deadline is not imminent – because doing so slows everything down, and the consequences of missing a deadline greatly outweigh the consequences of completing a piece on time that might have been slightly better if I had spent more time on it. And for me, the most surprising thing about going through this process was that in both cases, I actually felt pretty good about the compositions when I had finished, and I continue to be happy with them.

9. Stop listening, and start imagining. Or, more precisely, stop relying on the playback capability of Finale or Sibelius to give you a sense of what's going on in your piece. Try not playing back your music for a day, then two days, then longer, if possible (it's tough to do; most of us are addicted to MIDI playback!), and see what difference it makes. It may cause you to think more about motivic relationships, or you may begin paying more attention to structure, or set theory, or gestures... You will almost certainly start to think of your piece in a different way if you try this. (This suggestion courtesy of Andrew Staniland.)
10. Perspective; use it or lose it. This is a quote from a Richard Bach book (Illusions), and my point in mentioning it here is that perhaps the most common reason that we get stuck is that the subjective nature of the composition process makes it remarkably easy to to lose perspective on our own creations. All of the above suggestions (except the first) are ways of overcoming this loss of perspective.
    
    Another way of gaining perspective on your music is to play it for others (your teacher, another teacher, your classmates, a non-musician) to see what they might suggest — but make it clear that you REALLY want their honest reactions/suggestions, as opposed to a pat on the back. While it can be encouraging to receive compliments on your music, sometimes what we need most is an honest critique. I have received some great suggestions about my music from my wife, who is not a musician. Not all feedback you receive will be equally useful, but even suggestions you reject (or comments with which you disagree) are sometimes helpful if they cause you to reconsider some aspect of your composition, and if doing so makes the piece better. Part of making good decisions is discerning when to take advice and when to reject it.
11. Listen to other compositions that are in some way similar to yours. If you are writing a string quartet, listen to a few different models and study the scores as you do so. If you are writing for a non-standard collection of instruments, just listen to different examples of chamber music while studying the scores if possible. The models don't have to be of music composed in the last 50 years, but it probably would help if some were. Or just listen to any music, even if it has nothing to do with what you are writing; you may get some ideas that way.
12. Look at an orchestration textbook. Orchestration texts have information about the capabilities of every orchestral instrument, often including contemporary extended techniques, some of which you may wish to try.  In addition, there is usually information about writing idiomatically for instruments, different articulation possibilities. etc., all of which can be inspire ideas for your own compositions.
13. Stop the piece you are writing and start again. This is a pretty extreme option if you have already invested a lot of time in the composition — after all, you are almost guaranteed to get stuck at some point, especially in a longer composition, and if your default response is to scrap it all and start again you are unlikely to complete very many compositions — but if you are in the early stages of a work, a fresh start may get you back on track.

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Never throw your rejected ideas away; I recommend keeping a compositional "blue box" (recycling bin) for ideas that didn't get very far.

At some later point, when you are in a different frame of mind, you may be able to browse through your recycling bin and find a compositional fragment that inspires you to complete it, or to use it in a completely different composition. I once tried this approach in a piece called Memory Quilt (1999), in which I began by laying out a some compositional fragments from earlier projects that I liked but had never used, and then I experimentally combined them in different ways until I found a result that I liked. I also composed a significant amount of new material based on the musical fragments to give cohesiveness and organicism to the overall musical structure.

One of the worst cases of "running into a brick wall" I ever experienced took place a long time ago, when I abandoned a composition that I had spent about 6 months writing; I had about fifteen minutes of ready-to-perform music written, but it was during a particularly low period in my life and I could not figure out how to finish it. I then started a new and completely different piece ("Steppin' Out") that I finished in about a month. I have never been able to bring myself to even look at the abandoned piece again; too many traumatic memories.

Getting stuck is common, so perhaps the most important thing to remember is that it is a normal part of the creative process. If you can learn to take it in stride you are less likely to stay stuck for very long.

Sometimes, the solution(s) you come up with to being stuck end up being the the most inspired part of your composition. Here is an axiom that may sound trite or corny, but it is true, or at least it is if you allow yourself to see things this way:

Challenges present opportunities for inspired solutions.