‘Publish’ is a word we often throw around without really clarifying what it means. We might say ‘I’d like to get this song published’, but really what we mean is that we’d like to get the song recorded by an artist selling records, or placed in TV or Film or other media situation. As a songwriter, if we’re ‘published’ it can mean that the songwriter has a contract with a company whose job is to market his/her songs to the people who have a need for those songs – basically artists or other companies looking to use the music for various media purposes. Or, ‘published’ can also refer to just one song, a single-song-contract between a writer and a company interested in getting that one song placed in a film or TV show, or recorded by an artist.

Being ‘published’ may seem like a goal, but it’s actually just a means to an end. Whether we’re backed by a publishing company or not, we still need to bust our butts to continue to push our own music. It is in the publisher’s interest to push our music down the various avenues they have access to, but it’s our job as the writers to manage our careers in the direction we want. Sometimes acting as our own publisher is the best decision we can make for ourselves. If we’re making connections by attending industry functions, getting to know other artists and writers in our area, and working to circulate our own music by playing clubs, house concerts, benefits, our best-friend’s brother’s son’s Bar Mitzvah, and so on, we are doing the business of a label and publisher. The end result is that our songs are out there in the mix, floating upon the ears of those who need the music we create.

When I first started, I got my songs into the hands of other songwriters by handing them a cassette tape. Back then Myspace wasn’t around, and people didn’t rely on MP3’s sent over email instead of a tangible CD or cassette. I hung out in music stores, I met anyone I could at restaurants and clubs who performed or wrote music, handing out my business card and a few tunes everywhere I went. As a result of those initial meetings, my network grew and soon I was co-writing with friends of friends, with some unsigned writers and some signed writers. My goal was to get hired at a publishing company. Since I had no direct contacts with the Faith Hills and Tim McGraws of the world, I believed I needed a publisher to bridge that sizable gap. It’s true that a publisher can get you through some doors previously unapproachable to you. But, it’s also true that with determination and creativity, and a shining personality, you can begin to connect the dots yourself. Don’t let a publishing deal or a label deal hold you back from the true goal – getting your songs to the artists who want to record them and the listeners who want to enjoy them. Assess the contacts you have and start there, building up. Even if you have practically no contacts, start by taking a course in songwriting online, or taking a few vocal or guitar lessons at your local community college. Get involved in your greater metropolitan songwriting community. Get in the mindset that you have something valuable to offer, and you’ll be amazed how those who need your gift emerge from your corner of the world.

It’s true that no two songwriter’s careers are alike. Most of us start with no contacts, little experience, and a lot of inspiration. Gradually we expand our network of contacts that will play key roles in opening doors to that publishing deal, artist deal, recording facility, producer, co-writer, event booker, agent, manager, or that one fan that becomes an unexpected loudspeaker to the world.

Many budding writers wonder what it’s like to work day to day as a songwriter, and the picture is as varied as those who live it. There are a few foundational activities, however, that every one of us finds ourselves immersed in on a regular basis.

Staying afloat in the commercial industry requires that we get out of the house once in awhile. Growing our network of fans and industry contacts is the gasoline we need to keep rolling. When we hole up in our bedroom writing songs all month, we overlook the troublesome reality that no one will hear those songs without a team of believers. This is such an important element of being a career songwriter. Without a network of people who believe in our art, we stand very little chance of influencing a larger circle. The tricky part is wading through the marshes of industry players and audiences who do not take a particular interest in what we do in order to find the ones who do. But when we’re committed to letting as many people know about our art as possible, we see the effects resonate like waves on a lake.

Being a naturally introverted person, I have to make an intentional effort to continue to build my network. So instead of relying on my feelings, I schedule time in my calendar during which I’ll make phone calls, go out to shows, take CDs to non-music functions and tell a few people about my music, or play a show with a friend. I try to expand my network by meeting just 2 new people each month that could play an important role in my next big break. Just 2 people – that’s all it takes. Gradually those two people turn into 4, and 8, and 16, and before I know it, I’m getting emails from someone I’ve never met who heard my music and enjoyed it. Two weeks later I find out my new acquaintance’s uncle is the best friend of a publisher I’ve been wanting to meet, or a writer I’ve been wanting to collaborate with. You just never know.

As I’m building my network of believers, I do a lot of prioritizing and planning. Without my calendar, I’m likely to lose track of where I put my time. Every morning I glance at my to-do list and prioritize those things that are in sync with my vision for my career. It’s easy to want to take every opportunity that comes along because after all, it’s an opportunity. We may never get another opportunity again – or at least that’s how we’ve been conditioned to think as career musicians. When I slip into survival mode, my vision gets put on hold. It’s absolutely imperative that I keep a close watch on the small steps I take towards those bigger goals.

Many of the distractions that masquerade as my career are identifiable by their fruits. They almost all keep me from writing. So when I look back and see that I haven’t written a song in a month, or I’ve got 5 unfinished ideas lying around and haven’t been able to set aside time to finish them, I know I’ve got to regroup. This is a real problem for artists, especially when touring. Setting aside time to write is absolutely essential to being a writer. It sounds ridiculously simple, but it’s amazing how often we overlook that very simple equation. Taking consistent time to write = songs worth recording.

As a staff writer for a publishing company, I wrote about two songs a week. Sometimes more, sometimes less. I also co-wrote a few times a week, collaborating with other writers in appointments set up by either me or my publisher. If my collaborator and I were already friends, we might get together at 10am and begin writing an idea that sprung from our morning conversation, or from the notebooks we carried with scratches of ideas. If the collaborator was someone I had just met, I’d ask to meet for coffee first so we could get to know eachother a bit better. Some writers are comfortable just delving into the song. I need a little time to acclimate myself to the new relationship before my strengths as a writer can really shine. I learned this through the experience of many years of co-writing, and I encourage other writers to do the same. Learn how your strengths as a writer flourish the most, and in what situations. Do you prefer to write from a title, to discuss many different story ideas with your collaborator, or to finish a song in a short 2 hour session and come back to it later instead of laboring over each word? Do you collaborate better when you come in prepared with an idea already percolating? Do you need some time to generate ideas along before regrouping with your collaborator to discuss the best approach? Understanding how you approach the process will help you find what you’re looking for in great collaborations.

Staying inspired is sometimes a challenging task for any prolific writer. As a career songwriter, we often need to write even when not inspired. I often use tools such as Destination Writing to coerce ideas out onto paper, using my 10-step process for writing songs as described in my book, Popular Lyric Writing: 10 Steps to Effective Storytelling. Other times I’ll bring a title, an unfinished verse, or even a short melodic and harmonic progression to a co-writer to help get inspiration. I read books, I watch movies, I go to coffee shops and listen to conversations (I admit it’s true) and write down interesting phrases that could make for great song ideas. I sit out on sidewalks and watch people, I travel, and I listen to music I love. I allow myself the permission to write a mediocre song. That last thought is incredibly important for a career writer. We understand that if we create our art with desperation, as if each expression is the last great thought we’ll ever have, then we’re bound for failure.

I almost always finish every idea I start. When even I’m not certain if what I’m writing is better or worse than the last song I wrote, it’s an exercise in becoming a more consistent writer. Finally, taking time to realize what makes my voice as a writer unique, and how I most effectively express that voice is a valuable enterprise and I wouldn’t be where I am today without it. Taking a look at the typical patterns within the songs I write, gathering feedback from trusted fans and collaborators, and even matching phrases of my life with the song material that sprung from them help me to summarize what I do well, and what kind of artist would be most interested in recording my songs.

Being a career songwriter is a precious gift, and one that comes with tremendous satisfaction. Getting into the studio to record my latest songs with some of my favorite musicians is one of the highlights of the process. On the contrary, pitching my songs through networking contacts is a nuisance I’d rather not have to pursue. But, both are necessary in sustaining a career. Without pitching my material, I can’t influence the world. Great results come at the expense of time and energy, and are a small price to pay for the fulfillment of positively affecting the lives of others through my art.

I hope you find satisfaction in the day to day activities on the road to expanding your circle of influence with your music. When you receive that email from someone who has been profoundly and positively affected by your music, you’ll recognize how your unique road has been leading you in the right direction all along.

Andrea Stolpe

The path to becoming a professional songwriter is never as clean-cut as we’d like it to be. If only there were ads in the classifieds “writer needed for top pop act,” with a phone number and an address to send a resume, it would be more obvious to know where to start. For me, the transition from hobbyist to professional writer was a bit like wandering through the woods and then suddenly stepping out into the clearing. I didn’t know how far down the path I had tread until I found myself already at my destination.

The trouble with success like anything in life, is that it’s not typically a steady upwards curve. There are months or years when even professional songwriters don’t get paid for their craft, being in-between deals or waiting for royalties to trickle in, and so in the most realistic sense, professional is a just a matter of experience and a way of doing business.

So what are some of the activities or elements that transition a hobby songwriter to a professional? I’ll give you my two cents, and you can add your own as you look back into the woods from your own clearing.

The first activity that makes the change is writing. It seems obvious, but it’s amazing how easy it can be to get distracted or just plain too busy, and stop writing regularly to develop our craft. Writing songs can certainly be a gift, and with that gift each of us brings a certain style and inspiration. But like any other skill, it takes dedication to learn to direct our inspiration to consistently achieve the results we want. That’s the important word here, consistency. Professional writers don’t just write one great song every 6 months. They write 10 good ones every 3 months, and if we’re lucky, 2 or 3 of those stand out as great songs.

I can’t stress enough the importance of writing, even when you don’t feel inspired. If you’re going for a publishing deal, for example, the company expects you to continuously put out more material. That’s how you stay relevant and current to the industry. Even as an artist writing for yourself or for others, if the last song you wrote and recorded was 6 months ago, you could be 6 months behind the trend…not to mention everyone you’ve played the song for has begun to forget you’re still around. Fans need to be reminded too. With so much new music coming out that is so accessible, we can’t go into hiding for too long before we’re simply out of mind as well as out of sight.

All the other activities, from networking to performing, getting to know names in the industry, gaining studio and recording experience, co-writing, following leads to meetings with industry gate-keepers, and so on are secondary. Learning how to carry ourselves in a meeting such as how many songs to play and how to accept criticism and compliments are certainly important, but without the activity of writing, we hardly get the chance to practice those skills.

There are hundreds of thousands of people who write songs and fancy themselves songwriters. What makes the difference between a hobbyist and a professional is how aware the write is of his/her own shortcomings and potentials. It’s not how many songs we get recorded or how much money we make (artists as famous for not being recognized and appreciated until they’re dead). It’s how much we enjoy the craft that enables us to survive just about anything along the way.

If you’re writing a few times a week and would like to step up your game in other areas of the business, I encourage you to follow some of the steps I’ve outlined in my previous blogs entitled ‘While You Are Writing.’ If you have specific questions about a crossroads you’ve reached in your career, please feel free to submit your comments in response to this blog. I’d be glad to take a stab at brainstorming with you for your next big career step.

Sincerely,
Andrea Stolpe

Publishing is a huge money making side of the business, with great opportunity for songwriters looking for financial and artistic help. Staff writing, the job title of a writer who works for a publisher writing and recording songs so that publisher can pitch them within the major market, is a highly satisfying job for many creative souls. Below, I will attempt to outline my experience with staff writing, describing some of the typical deal points and what to expect. The contract terms between a publisher and writer vary greatly from writer to writer, and city to city, and so keep in mind that this is simply one example. More information can be found on my website, www.andreastolpe.com.

In short, a publishing deal is a contract between a writer and a publisher in which the publisher owns all songs written by the writer during the contract period. A contract outlines the terms of the deal. The basic terms consist of the length of time in months or years that the writer is affiliated with the publisher, the monetary compensation the writer receives during this period called a “draw”, and details concerning demo costs, royalties, and other small print interesting to a good entertainment lawyer. As a first time signed writer to a publisher, the draw is typically somewhere between $15,000 and $25,000 per year. Along with this draw, the publisher may agree to front half the demo costs up to $600, while the writer recoups (money the writer owes the publisher out of royalties) the other half after royalties are made. For example, if a writer makes $15,000 and spends $4,000 in demos, the total amount that writer cost the publisher is $19,000. Since the publisher agreed to pay for half the demo costs up to $600 (let’s assume any amount above $600 is the writer’s total responsibility), the amount that writer must recoup is half of $4,000, or $2,000. If the publisher gets the writer a cut (the term for when a song is recorded by an artist), then that $2,000 as well as the $15,000 draw is first paid back to the publisher, then everything in excess is paid to the writer. If the publisher doesn’t get any cuts, they don’t get any payback. First publishing deals are typically 3 to 4 years long with 1 to 1 1/2 year “options”, where the publishing company has the option to resign the writer to another term, or drop the writer altogether.

Few careers can boast of a schedule so flexible it allows for a month long hiatus and the option to scrap a whole day to go to lunch. The idea of being your own boss and working in an environment that is so heavily creative is certainly a rare gem. However, there are yins to these yangs. To make things simple, I’ve outlined some pros and cons below.
Pros

1. Flexible Schedule
2. You are your own boss
3. Opportunity to grow faster as a writer
4. Direct link to elusive contacts
5. Increased probability of getting cuts

Cons

1. Must be self-motivated
2. Must be self-motivated
3. Must be self-motivated
4. Locked into a year long contract
5. Publisher owns a share

These are just a few of the most obvious considerations. Some writers dislike the pressures of having a deal, and prefer to hire an independent plugger (a plugger is the person at a publishing company who serves as a liaison between the writer and artist or producer looking for songs). The terms of a deal vary as widely as the publishers who dream them up. For some writers, crafting 12 great songs a year is a comfortable limit, while others prefer to shoot for 200 in the hopes that quantity will expose quality.

In my experience in the Nashville industry, there is nothing to lose in signing a good deal. A good deal is one that allows the writer to grow, expand his/her network of contacts, and eventually get cuts. A publisher’s objective is to minimize risk and make money. Both the writer and publisher’s goal in the end is to get cuts and make money. The difference is that most publishers won’t wait for a writer to develop before seeing big returns. Make sure you have a good lawyer to negotiate the terms of the contract before signing. Consider how long you can afford to be locked into the deal, and your financial needs. A good publisher should at the very least get your songs heard. If you’re not interested in writing songs viable in commercial markets, then a publishing deal may not be for you.

Over the years I’ve met thousands of writers, no two of which got their deal the same way. There are, however, some basic similarities that have led to each success. In the following paragraphs I have outlined seven basic steps to getting a publishing deal. None of them are the answer on their own, but combined with a little common sense, they become a recipe for the good old college try. Take ‘em or leave ‘em, but they could be your north star when the horizon looks bleak.

For concrete steps towards getting a publishing deal, please visit www.andreastolpe.com.
Click on ‘Craft & Biz’, then ‘Publishing Info.’ I hope the information helps you to realize more of your potential as a writer in the commercial market.

Sincerely,
Andrea

I’m so happy to be able to offer the material of Commercial Songwriting Techniques to budding and advanced songwriters around the globe. Born from my own experiences as a staff-writer and performing artist in the commercial music industry, the techniques exercised in the course focus on writing more efficiently, prolifically, and commercially. Lyrics are a stumbling block for many writers, and the first few weeks of the course attack that monster head-on with tools such as Destination Writing, Toggling, and differentiating between internal and external language. By learning to organize these two types of language, we can identify the strongest pattern that will connect more profoundly to the listener.

Many songs we know and love have a melodic hook that instantly grabs our attention, and so focusing on the lyric alone can leave us just short of a powerful song. Writing simple and catchy melodic motifs for those lyric areas we want to emphasize improves our songs by a landslide. Tools for contrast such as changing the lengths of the notes, the phrases, or simply starting on a different beat in the measure are simple to implement and produce huge results. We can learn to critique our own material using these techniques as well, and become fluent in verbalizing our critique of other songs. From my own experience, being able to critique my own writing by applying proven tools allows me to sort through the deluge of opinions we sometimes receive on our songs. In the end, we simply become more confident writers.

If you’re ready to approach your lyric writing from an entirely new angle, gather new tools for melody, harmony, and your own unique voice, I encourage you to jump into this course. By the end of 12 weeks, you’ll have dozens of new ideas, hundreds of titles, and 3 fully written songs. We’ll also spend some time finding out what qualities about you draw in the listener, and how you might continue to emphasize those qualities.

I look forward to meeting you and moving forward with you in your songwriting endeavors.

Sincerely,
Andrea Stolpe

For all of us who have been writing and promoting our own material for any length of time, we’re familiar with the word “no” and its cousins, “you’re not quite what we’re looking for,” “we’ve already got someone like you,” and “sorry kid, I just don’t feel it.” The truth can sometimes hit hard, and so I’d like to shine a bit of light from my own “no” experiences to help thicken your skin.

Before I got signed as a staff-writer for EMI Music Publishing, I spent several hours each week calling friends and co-writers and everyone I knew who might be able to get me a meeting with a publisher. I even walked up and down Music Row in Nashville, TN, where I began my career, introducing myself to the secretaries of various publishing companies. Back then, record labels were the only ones with security and locks on their front doors.

Most of the time I’d get the same response “I’m sorry, we don’t accept unsolicited material.” But sometimes I’d be able to drop a name, like “Hi, I’ve been writing with so-and-so, and I know that (insert publisher name) likes his material…do you think it would be okay if I left a tape for him of a few songs?” Everything around the name-dropping probably went in one ear and out the other, but the relationship was what gave me credibility. In the beginning, it was my collaborations that brought opportunities, as long as I searched those opps out.

As I wrote with more signed writers, I began to have access to their publishers as well. Soon I was able to schedule a meeting or two each month with a publisher who was interested in what I’d been writing with their signed writers or others they knew and loved.

In each meeting, I would play the publisher two or three new songs. I didn’t have money for demos, and so I’d record a simple guitar/vocal or piano/vocal. The most common response I’d receive during that first meeting was “You’ve got some good ideas,” or “I think you’d write well with so-and-so on our roster.” In the short 20 minute meeting, I was trying to get a feel for the publisher, and he/she was trying to get a feel for me. Part of being a good publisher is signing writers that work well within the company relationally, and creatively. Most of my meetings ended with a pleasant “come back when you have more material,” which I learned to receive as a step forward rather than a closing door.

When I first started meeting publishers, I expected more. I expected the publisher to make a decision based on the few songs I brought in for their perusal. The reality is that a deal between a publisher and a writer is a multi-year contract, and the success of that union has as much to do with the talent of the writer as the ability of the publisher to sell the songs. Over the course of a few meetings, or a few years, a good publisher will watch a writer to determine whether the writer is up to the challenge of making the deal work creatively, as well as mentally. Sometimes a publisher is looking for a specific kind of writer to round out the roster. We may walk in with some great material, but if it doesn’t line up with the vision of the company, the match just won’t be very successful. In some situations, we can end up leaving the meeting feeling like we didn’t impress, when actually the publisher is simply trying to figure out how to possibly work with what we’ve given them.

Sometimes “no” just means “no.” In these situations, we’ve got to learn to embrace the doors closing just we do the doors opening. These doors closing are significant in that they push us along towards the people who believe in our music the most. Not everyone will love and appreciate what we do. Even those who appreciate what we do may choose to pass on us, but can be valuable in moving us along to those who really understand our vision. When we sign a deal, we are taking a risk just as the publisher is taking a risk. We don’t want to spend the next 3 years of our career working with a team that is not 100% invested in our success. Similarly, when a publisher considers signing a writer, he/she is in a sense staking his/her job on a belief in that writer’s potential. The music industry is very transient, and what worked yesterday doesn’t necessarily apply today. Just as we as writers and artists are trying to attain and secure a good deal, publishers and labels are looking for writers and artists to believe in and vault their own careers to continued success.

As long as we’re receiving “no,” we can be sure we’re doing what we should be doing to get our music out there. If we’re not getting feedback, we’re not getting anywhere at all. So take heart, throw on some extra armor, and enjoy the ride knowing that you’ve got to kiss a lot of frogs to find your prince.

Andrea Stolpe

I once interviewed my creative manager at Universal Music Publishing for the truth about what publishers look for when signing new writers. I assumed his answers would include ‘talent’, ‘personality’, the ‘ability to write incredible melodies and lyrics’, etc. Though those elements were part of his answer, surprisingly several other factors were significantly more important. Skill and talent were part of the equation, but personality, productivity, and the ability to receive and apply critique were key qualities that came up over and over again.

He went on to explain that every afternoon around 4pm he begins his meetings with new writers. Many are new to Nashville, having moved with a guitar and a dream of writing songs for other artists. Each week he meets anywhere from 5 to 10 new writers and listens to 2 or 3 of their songs. Out of these 10 writers, on average, only 1 calls back or emails him for a follow-up meeting. Months later he runs into the other 9 around town, at a show, in the grocery store, etc, and asks how their writing has been going. They often respond with, “I’ve been working a lot and haven’t had the chance to write much lately,” or “I’ve got some songs but I wanted to wait until I got good demos done.” What this says to a publisher is that you aren’t yet ready for the job of a staff writer. A publisher is in the business of pitching songs to commercial artists. Without product, without songs, the publisher can’t do their job. The more prolific the writer, the more pitching power a publisher has. A publisher wants to be sure that after signing the writer, that writer will continue to produce song material that is viable in the market.
This is why just writing 2 or 3 good songs isn’t enough. If you consider that a company like Universal Music Publishing has 50 staff writers in Nashville alone, each writing and demoing at a minimum 3 songs per month. That translates into 36 songs a year per writer, and 1800 songs per year company-wide. Finishing just a few songs isn’t enough. A publisher wants to know that you can consistently write solid material.

Another factor in deciding whether a writer would be a good addition to the publishing company is personality. Would the writer fit well with the other writers on the roster? Can the writer co-write? Does the writer bring something unique to the roster, or is he/she similar to a writer we already have? The publisher is also interested in signing writers who will continue to network and push his/her own material instead of relying solely on the publisher. The publisher can certainly widen the network of contacts and co-writers for the writer, but a writer who works to form and sustain relationships within the industry only boosts his/her potential for success and therefore benefits the publisher.

Talent does matter, and great songs will initially capture the attention of industry folks and consumer listeners alike. But managing our own careers with integrity and persistence are immutable qualities that will sustain our futures as career-musicians. Write what you love, and don’t allow yourself to get stuck polishing just a few songs until they’re perfect. Get out there and promote yourself with what you have, and continue to improve your craft by listening and practicing your art of writing.