Creative Angst... Welcome to the club!

This is another entry based on a reply I just made to a student blog comment.

Students sometimes tell me that they are not content with their composition, be it finished or in progress. They know it could be better, or perhaps feel it ought to be better, but they are not exactly sure how to achieve this. And meanwhile, there's usually a deadline fast approaching... Yikes!

We tend to want our music to be not only good, but personal as well. People who hear unfamiliar works by well-known composers can often recognize who wrote them, which suggests that there is something of ourselves — almost like a strand of DNA — in the things we create; or at least this seems to be the case in the hands of great composers, bands, and artists in general.

Knowing that what we create is in some way a reflection of who we are, and possessing the ability to discern the difference between great and not great music, it is not unusual to wish that our compositions were better, which can lead to frustration when we don't know how to improve them to a standard of which we can feel proud.

If it is any consolation, this "creative angst" is a normal part of the creative process, even, at times, for experienced composers. I suspect that all people who create things experience this on a fairly regular basis. I worry more about people who never experience this, particularly when they are fairly new to composition, because I wonder if it means that they are not sufficiently self-critical, or their ability to distinguish between good and not good ideas is insufficiently developed.

The more you compose, the more developed and sophisticated your compositional skills become, so if this project is one of your first forays into writing music, rest assured that your ability to write the kind of music of which you are capable will grow significantly, as long as you don't give up.

Regarding your weekly composition projects, I would just encourage you persevere until you're pretty sure that each one is as good as you can make it for now, and then move on to the next piece.

When you start out as a composer your ability to discern between good and bad in music (any aspect, such as interpretation, performance, and compositional excellence) generally exceeds your compositional abilities. This is the compositional equivalent to the adage about one's reach exceeding one's grasp, which comes from Robert Browning's poem, "Andrea Del Sarto" (line 98). Browning actually writes, Ah, but a man's reach should exceed his grasp, Or what's a heaven for?

I like Browning's use of the word "should." It suggests to me that we should not become complacent about our work; we should always strive for something better, even if it lies just out of our reach in terms of our current compositional development.

It is nearly impossible to reach a point where you are 100% satisfied with your creations. "I know what good music is," you might think to yourself, "and this [your composition] isn't it!" But how did you come to know what good vs. not good music is? As a general rule, this ability is one we develop over many years of performing, listening, and studying a wide variety of music.

The same is true of compositional skills. If you keep at it, you will reach the point where you become better able to express what you want through music, and thereby become more satisfied with what you create. And the improvement of compositional skills can actually come pretty quickly; when you reach the end of this course, you may surprise yourself by how the speed with which you developed from a compositional neophyte to someone whose compositions became significantly better.

And your skills will get better if you persevere.

There is a beneficial aspect of creative angst: The points in a composition that gave you the most grief in the composition process can become the sections of which you are proudest when your composition is finished, provided that you did not give up in your attempts to improve them. These "angst-ridden" points may turn out to be the most inspired, since greater inspiration is often necessary to work through creative roadblocks. Read more on this in "Running into a Brick Wall," if you like.

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UPDATE:

Mathieu, the first commentator below, writes: One's music software abilities are also in need of development. I found that the hardest part of achieving some satisfaction with my piece was learning to use the software. Much time has been spent on one bar trying to get the right rhythms …

That is an excellent point! I will just add that not only does it take time to become proficient in music notation software, it also takes time to learn how to notate rhythms, particularly tricky ones, whether we use software or write music by hand. Often we only realize that our notation is flawed when, after inputing it into notation software, we discover that the playback does not match the rhythms we had in mind.

More generally, it also takes time to learn how to notate our ideas in the most effective way (and most correct way) for prospective performers. This is one of the reasons we spend so much time discussing notation in classes and lessons, which includes notating rhythms, note spellings, beaming, correct meters (eg, 3/2 is not the same as 6/4), extended techniques, chance & out of time elements, along with instructions for these devices that are as clear as possible for performers, and much more.