Essays by Matthew Wilson

By Matthew Wilson For years, writing songs was where I put most of my creative energy. I wanted to get better at it, of course, but I also wanted to find people who understood why I kept doing it. That began to happen when I joined FAWM. FAWM introduced me to songwriters who were willing to share unfinished ideas, listen to one another, and offer encouragement without expecting perfection. I remember how much that meant to me. I wasn't just hearing other people's songs. I was getting to know the people making them, and some of those connections became friendships. Over time, I began wondering what it would be like to have that sense of community throughout the year. Events come and go, and people get busy. I understood that. Still, I liked the idea of a place that would be there whenever someone felt like sharing a song or hearing what others were working on. That idea eventually became Songwriting Monthly. I didn't want to build a place where people f...

By Matthew Wilson When I first became involved in songwriting communities, I was mostly interested in sharing music. I wanted to hear what other people were making, too, but I hadn't thought much about what listening itself could mean to a songwriter. FAWM began to change that for me. Someone would take the time to listen to a song I'd made and leave a thoughtful observation. They might notice a lyric or a small detail in the arrangement that I hadn't expected anyone to catch. I remembered those comments, sometimes long after I'd moved on to another song. It made me think about how I listened to other people's work. I didn't always need to have advice, and I certainly didn't need to know more about music than the person who made it. Often, I could simply say what I heard and what stayed with me. That understanding followed me into Songwriting Monthly. People share songs at different stages, and not everyone is looking for the same kind ...

By Matthew Wilson For a long time, I assumed that being a songwriter meant singing my songs. I wrote conventional lyrics and worked on my voice, hoping that with practice I'd become the kind of musician I admired. I did enjoy parts of that process. But I often found myself more interested in the idea behind a song than in finding the right melody for it. I liked arranging sounds, experimenting with atmosphere, and seeing how much a few words could carry. Spoken word wasn't a decision I made one morning. I tried it, made another piece, and gradually found myself returning to it. Hearing my speaking voice against music felt different from hearing myself sing. I could give a sentence the pace I wanted and let it sit for a moment before moving on. My process often begins with something I've been thinking about. I write, revise, and then build a backing track around the words. Sometimes a sound suggests where the next passage should go. Other times I remove a layer because it co...

By Matthew Wilson I used to measure my progress as a musician in ways that weren't particularly kind to me. I'd hear a well-produced song or watch someone move easily through a collaboration and wonder why those things seemed so much harder for me. I had a picture of the musician I ought to become: technically proficient, productive, able to remember what I'd learned and pick up where I'd left off. Nobody handed me that standard. I made it for myself, and I kept coming up short. Living with schizoaffective disorder has complicated that picture. Memory, processing, and energy aren't always dependable for me. I can learn something in a music program and still need my notes the next time I open it. When I compared that experience with someone else's fluency, I usually ended up frustrated. For a while I thought the answer was to work harder or find a better routine. Sometimes a new approach helped, but comparison followed me into whatever I tried next. I could finis...