How to Start Songwriting: A Getting-Going Guide for Total Beginners

So, you want to write a song.

Maybe you’ve had lyrics swirling around in your head for weeks. Maybe a melody came to you in the shower, and you haven’t been able to shake it. Maybe you’ve just always felt like there’s a songwriter inside you—but you don’t know how to start.

First of all, let me say: I’m so glad you’re here.

Songwriting is one of the most vulnerable, healing, magical things you can do with your time.

It’s also a skill, which means it can be learned.

You do not have to be a musical genius or a poetic prodigy to write something meaningful and beautiful.

You just have to be brave enough to begin.

And I’m here to help you do that.

Whether you’ve never written a single song or you’ve dabbled a little and want to feel more confident, this is your gentle, practical guide for how to start songwriting from scratch.

First: Know That It Doesn’t Have to Be “Good” to Be Worthwhile

If you remember one thing from this post, let it be this:

Your first songs don’t have to be great. They just have to be yours.

We live in a world that’s quick to measure and judge creative work. But when you’re just starting out, your only job is to experiment. Be curious. Let it be weird, let it be messy, let it be yours.

Every songwriter you love once sat exactly where you’re sitting. They wrote bad songs. They wrote cliché songs. They wrote clunky, awkward verses. And then they kept going.

You don’t get to skip the beginner phase—but that’s what makes the journey so beautiful.

Step 1: Capture the Spark

Great songs often begin with a spark—a phrase, a feeling, a memory, a line, a melody.

When that spark hits, write it down. Don’t worry if it’s incomplete or imperfect. Collect it anyway. I love to use a journal to gather little fragments that might become songs later—but in a pinch, I’ve also been known to use the Notes and Voice Memos apps right on my phone.

Need help getting the inspiration flowing? Here are some prompts to get you going:

• What’s something you wish you could say to someone?

• What’s a memory that’s so strong you can literally smell it?

• What’s one question your brain has been obsessing over lately?

• What is breaking your heart open right now?

• When was the last time you felt totally and completely ALIVE?

Step 2: Pick a Starting Point — Lyrics, Melody, or Chords

There’s no “right” way to start a song. Some people begin with lyrics. Others start with a chord progression or a melody. I often begin with a phrase that feels emotionally charged or a specific detail from a story that I can’t let go of, and I build from there.

Let’s break down the most common starting points:

➤ Lyrics First

Write like a poet. You don’t need to know any music theory to start this way—just begin by freewriting.

Think in sensory details. Tap into emotion. See what lines naturally form rhythm or rhyme.

Prompt: Try writing a 4-line verse that describes a moment in time using all five senses.

➤ Chords or Melody First

If you play an instrument (guitar, piano, ukulele), experiment with a few chords. You can literally Google “easy chord progressions for beginners” to get started.

A super common one:
G – C – D – Em (used in thousands of songs!)

Strum and hum nonsense syllables over the chords until something clicks. Let your instincts guide the melody.

Step 3: Structure Your Song

A typical, radio-friendly song structure often looks like this:

Verse → Chorus → Verse → Chorus → Bridge → Chorus (or Outro)

• Verse = the story or setup

• Chorus = the emotional heart, often repeated

• Bridge = a twist, change in perspective, or deeper reflection

But there’s no specific right or wrong way to structure your song. You can have a song with all verses and no chorus. Your chorus can be a clever one line. You can forego a bridge entirely. You can include a pre-chorus. The rules are made up, so do what you feel.

Don’t overthink it—structure is just there to help the listener follow you.

Step 4: Edit Gently (and Later)

When you’re first starting, try not to edit too early. Write a rough draft of your song before you start tweaking every word.

Once it’s written, then you can go back and refine the phrasing, swap out a cliché for something more vivid, or make the melody stronger.

Editing is part of songwriting—but not all of it. Make sure you give yourself permission to play first.

Step 5: Share it With Someone (Optional, But Encouraged)

The first time you share a song can feel scary—but it can also be deeply affirming. I’ll never forget the first time I shared a song I wrote with my middle school band class. Thankfully, they were kind, encouraging, and cemented my love of performing right then and there.

But you don’t have to share your song with an entire room full of middle schoolers. You don’t have to post your song online (in fact, I’d highly recommend that you don’t just yet).

Just play it for a trusted friend, another songwriter, or even your dog.

It can be tempting to be couch your song in a joke or to talk yourself down, for fear of rejection. Don’t do this. Honor where you are in your artistic process. You might say something like:

“This is something I’m working on—it’s rough, but I’d love for you to hear it.”

You’ll be surprised how often your vulnerability inspires someone else.

A Few Extra Tips for Beginning Songwriters:

• Don’t wait for inspiration. Set aside a regular time to write, even if it’s just 10 minutes. Doing this will help to keep your creative juices flowing from day to day, so getting started doesn’t feel quite so difficult.
  
  

• Listen to songs you love. Notice how they’re built, what images they use, what structure they follow. Write songs inspired by your favorite songs. Rewrite songs from different perspectives. Use the art you love as a jumping off point.
  
  

• Keep a running lyric log. You’ll be amazed what builds up over time, and what you circle back to months or even years later.
  
  

• Join a writing group or take a songwriting workshop. I host retreats and workshops for artists like you. Click here to learn more about my signature event, The Wildly Creative Retreat.

Final Thoughts: You Can Do This

If you’re wondering how to start songwriting, you already have what it takes: a desire to create something honest and meaningful. That’s all you need.

Start where you are, use what you have, and trust that your voice—just as it is—is enough.

You don’t have to write the best song in the world.

You just have to write your first one.

And then… write the next.

I’m cheering you on.

All my love,

Cassidy

✨ Want more creative encouragement?

Join my free email list for virtual letters about creativity, songwriting, being an artist, life in Appalachia, what it means to be a sensitive human in a chaotic world—and so much more. If that sounds like your vibe, you can sign up here.

Caught In the Wild Bog: Lessons On Resilience From Dolly Sods Wilderness In West Virginia

Last week, my parents, my sister, and I decided to go for a hike in Dolly Sods Wilderness in Tucker County, West Virginia.

For those who aren’t from my neck of the woods, Dolly Sods is an almost-18,000 acre wilderness area of the Monongahela National Forest here in West Virginia. I grew up in West Virginia and currently live just a short drive from Dolly Sods—and even to me, this place remains largely mysterious and unexplored.

Deep in the woods of the Mountain State, Dolly Sods boasts breathtaking bogs, heath, and miles and miles of backcountry. While there are marked trails, you won’t find many (if any?) paved paths or organized boardwalks.

It’s about as wild as it gets.

Exploring Dolly Sods Wilderness

We set off on a Saturday morning, fixed on completing a moderate 6.5-mile loop around Dobbin Grade, Raven Ridge, and Bear Rocks.

The first half of the hike was lovely. We wandered through clusters of shady pines and waxy rhododendron thicket, allowing ourselves to be dazzled by the first wildflowers popping through still-chilly soil.

And then… we entered the clearing. A scrubby, boggy area with few trees and even fewer dry spots.

The clearing was a different story altogether. The ground sloshed beneath our boots, broad and marshy, slowing us down as we stepped gingerly over the larger puddles.

My sister and I skipped ahead, chatting amongst ourselves. It was easy to ignore the dropping temperature. The damp breeze. The angry-looking clouds overhead.

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When the Trail Turns to Mud

In minutes, we went from a temperate day and clear path… to hair matted to our cheeks and the gut-punch realization that our 'trail' had become a river.

(I wish I were exaggerating. I promise you, I am not.)

Our feet searched in vain for dry spots. Wet socks became bare feet, which turned to wading through knee-high water as we desperately tried to keep track of our “trail.”

It was terrifying and exhilarating.

Mind flashing to a friend who was struck by lightning in this area years ago, then to the bog bodies I saw on a trip to Ireland a few years ago (click that link if you dare)...

I was certain that either the sky or the earth would open up and swallow us whole after any given step.

And… I also laughed harder than I have in months. Maybe years.

We cackled. We swore. We carried on, one plodding step after another.

By the end, we were all sopping wet, absolutely filthy, and DELIGHTED when the river turned to creek bed, to craggy rock path, to semi-solid hiking trail and high ground once more.

My sister and I sang folk tunes at the tops of our lungs all the way back to the car, to ward off bears and distract ourselves from our waterlogged feet.

Never in all my life have I been happier to walk uphill.

Resilience & Agility Along Life’s Winding Path

And that’s how it goes isn’t it? In life, in love, in art… sometimes the path ahead just disappears.

You’re doing everything “right,” when suddenly, your solid ground turns to water. The way forward becomes unclear. Progress slows.

Your feet are soaked. Your bones are cold. You seriously question whether there’s a way through—and if so, what might wait for you on the other side.

You have a choice:

To turn back… or to wade through.

What that hike reminded me is this: progress and momentum are rarely graceful or linear.

I’ve seen this in my life too many times to count. All of my most beautiful and significant seasons of growth, evolution, and creation have begun with confusion, murkiness, heartache, and questioning.

Sometimes the only way through stuckness is to get a little wet.

To let it be messy.

To let yourself curse and laugh and cry all at once, and still keep going.

Because the trail does come back. Or you carve a new one.

One way or another, you press on—stronger, steadier, and more certain of your own resilience than you were before.

You don’t have to do it perfectly. You just have to keep moving.

With muddy boots and an open heart,

Cassidy

P.S. If you enjoyed this story, I think you’ll also appreciate this poem, “The Journey” by Mary Oliver.

It’s one I frequently come back to during seasons of change and uncertainty:

The Journey

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice—
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
"Mend my life!"
each voice cried.
But you didn't stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do—
determined to save
the only life you could save.

P.P.S. If it’s been a while since you felt fully alive in this way—join me for my upcoming Wildly Creative artist retreat!

June 5-8, we’ll convene in the Monongahela National Forest in a cozy cabin by the river.

Here, you’ll reconnect to your sense of purpose, reignite your inspiration, and come away ready to step into your full power and potential as a creator.

Your experience includes lodging, delicious locally-sourced food, curated workshops, nature excursions, and much more.

(And I solemnly swear not to take you on any wild goose chase wilderness walks. xx)

We have just two spots remaining. Reserve your room here, or email cassidydickens@lyriccreative.co for more information.