The Intersection of Music and Writing by Mike Lotzof
Updated: Jun 22
Music and writing are two powerful forms of expression that have captivated humanity for centuries. They share a unique relationship, often influencing and enhancing one another. In this blog post, we will explore how these two art forms intersect, the creative processes behind them, and how they can inspire and elevate each other.
The Creative Process: Where Music and Writing Meet
People often ask me whether writing a book is harder than writing a song. The truth is that, for me, they are remarkably similar. Whether I am sitting at a piano working on a musical, writing a children’s book or developing a screenplay, the process always begins with the same questions:
What story am I trying to tell? What do I want to say? And who cares?
At first glance, music and writing appear to be very different disciplines. One uses words. The other uses notes. Yet both rely on the same foundations: structure, rhythm, emotion and the ability to take an audience on a journey.
Every creative work begins with inspiration. Sometimes it comes from a personal experience. Sometimes it comes from a conversation, a newspaper article or a simple “what if?” question.
DreamRunners began as an exploration of reconciliation, identity and belonging after a chance encounter in Hindley St, Adelaide. Salon Kitty emerged from a desire to look beyond stereotypes and explore loneliness, acceptance and the human need for connection. My books often start with a single idea that refuses to leave me alone until I write it down.
The problem is that there are far more stories than there is time.
And inspiration is only the beginning.
What follows is usually far less glamorous: discipline. The glue that keeps you in the chair long after the excitement of the original idea has faded. People often imagine creativity as a lightning strike. Sometimes the idea is. The work rarely is.
The reality is usually exploration, experimentation, failure and rewriting. Endless rewriting. Table reads, Audience feedback. More rewriting.
A song may begin with a melody, a lyric or a dramatic moment. A book may begin with a character, a scene or a question. In every case, the challenge is the same: finding the structure and form that allows the idea to become what it wants to be.
Structure matters.
In musical theatre, songs must serve the story. They are not like a record album where listeners can play one song or twenty in any order. Every song must reveal character, advance the plot or deepen emotional understanding. Similarly, every chapter in a novel, every scene in a screenplay and every page in a children’s book must earn its place.
Audiences may not consciously notice structure when it works. They certainly notice when it doesn’t.
The strongest connection between music and writing, however, is rhythm.
Good writing has rhythm. Good dialogue has rhythm. Great lyrics live or die by rhythm. As both a writer and composer, I find myself listening to the musicality of language as much as its meaning. The cadence of a sentence, the shape of a phrase and the placement of a pause all influence how I hear a story in my head.
Writing lyrics sits somewhere between music and literature. It demands the discipline of both. In many ways, it is like writing War and Peace in fewer than 500 words.
Emotion is equally important.
Audiences never remember every word of a book or every note of a song. What they remember is how the work made them feel. Whether I am writing a comedy number, a love song or a dramatic scene, my goal remains the same: I want people to feel something.
One of my favourite moments occurred during a table reading of Salon Kitty. A young actor was genuinely upset that I had given a deeply moving song to a character who was later revealed to be a misogynistic incel. Her emotional reaction was immediate and heartfelt.
For me, that was one of the highest compliments a writer can receive.
The techniques may differ, but my objective remains the same. Make people feel and think.
Technology has changed many aspects of the creative process. Today I can compose orchestral arrangements in a home studio, develop full musical theatre scores on a computer and publish work to a global audience on Spotify or Apple. Yet despite all these advances, the fundamentals remain unchanged.
Every creative project still begins with a blank page and a question:
What is the story?
The longer I write and compose, the more I realise that music and writing are simply different ways of exploring the same thing: what it means to be human.
Both seek to capture moments of joy, loss, hope, fear, humour and love. Both allow us to connect with people we may never meet. And both remind us that stories, whether spoken, sung or written, remain one of the most powerful ways we make sense of the world.
For me, that is where music and writing meet - in the shared human experience that lies beneath them both.
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