The Studio · Workshop 03
Your Own Song
Six steps. About 35 minutes. Up to 8 stars. The constellation you're building is called First Original.
The Studio · Workshop 03
Six steps. About 35 minutes. Up to 8 stars. The constellation you're building is called First Original.
Every song you've ever loved was once just a hum in someone's head.
That's not a poetic exaggeration. That's the literal way songs start. Someone hummed something. Then they put words to it. Then they shaped it into a chorus that made other people want to hum it too. That's the whole craft — and you can do it.
This workshop walks you through the bones of an original song. Topic — what it's about. Hook — the one line that has to land. Chorus — what people sing when they don't remember the words. Verse — the story before the punchline.
You don't need to be musical. You need to know what feels true. The melody can come later. The structure is what's real.
By the end you'll have a verse and a chorus — both yours. The song will be saved to your sky. Whether you ever record it or not, it exists.
If you understand the bones — topic, hook, chorus, verse — tap below to begin.
The first decision. Pick one. There's no wrong answer here — pick the one your gut points at, even if your brain says it should be a different one. Especially then.
The hook is the line you'd see on a t-shirt. The one a stranger walks away humming after one listen. It's almost always short, almost always emotional, and almost always written in your own voice — not a borrowed one. It might be your chorus. It might be the title.
Don't overthink. Write it the way you'd say it.
The chorus is where the hook lives. Your hook is one of these four lines — usually the first or the last. The other three lines circle around it, repeat it from a different angle, or set it up so it lands harder.
The verse is the story. Where the chorus is the punchline, the verse is the setup. It tells the listener what's happening, sets the scene, names what's at stake. Then your chorus hits and they understand.
Four lines. Specifics. Don't tell us what you feel — show us what's around you.
Now that one exists, what's pulling at you? A different topic? A friend you didn't write about? A feeling you couldn't fit in this one? Name it — that's how you know there's another song coming.