horrific composing story (absolute rock bottom)

My Dearest Tortured Composer,

I write to you today with a horrific tale.

One that will make your skin crawl and potentially leave you awake tonight.

This is not for the faint of heart.

But it is one that I believe encapsulates composing rock bottom.

The lowest of all lows.

A true composing hell.

I was on a Zoom call with a full-time composer. A guy making a real living from sync licensing. Decent clients. Respectable career.

We were chatting about the “biz” and exchanging stories when he decided to share one that made me nauseous.

“One time I needed this gig. And I got an offer to score an adult film.”

My eyebrows raised ever so slightly as he continued.

“But the same week it was due, my mother-in-law was at the house.”

My mouth hung wide open.

“My studio was right next to the kitchen and there wasn’t a door. So my mother-in-law would have to walk by and listen to the score and the sounds of this adult film while I was working on it. And I had this huge monitor above my studio where I’d play the movies I was working on. So anytime she walked by, she’d see everything.”

Awful?!

And awful is the most moderate description I could possibly imagine.

This guy was down BAD!

I’m talking about, I cannot think of a worse scenario. You have your mother-in-law in town. You are scoring an adult film. You cannot say no because you need the money to feed your family. And she is walking past your open studio watching the whole thing.

Maybe I’m weird. Maybe this is normal for some people.

But I will tell you, friend, that night I immediately started looking for backup options.

From that day on I would never ever consider relying solely on composing as my income without having at least two to three other sources of money making potential.

I would rather work as a store manager at a Captain D’s Seafood in Toledo, Ohio… getting reamed out by corporate because my fast food fish isn’t selling fast enough.

That sounds more pleasant to me than scoring an adult film with my mother-in-law in the house.

Now, there is a certain glamorization that comes with the title “full-time composer.”

People look at you differently. It feels like the holy grail. The dream where all you have to do is make music and someone else handles the money stuff.

And for some people, that is a real possibility.

But I will say it is rare.

And here is something worth considering.

Many of the greatest composers who ever lived had day jobs.

Chopin taught piano lessons. Tchaikovsky worked at the Ministry of Justice. Rimsky-Korsakov was a naval officer. Borodin was an organic chemist. Charles Ives (one of the most celebrated American composers ever) ran an insurance company and wrote a book on inheritance tax.

And Philip Glass drove a taxi through New York City at night.

Even after Einstein on the Beach made him famous.

Now, Mozart and Beethoven had patrons. Kings, noblemen, members of the court paying them to write music full time.

And I want you to consider something.

You too can have a patron.

It just might not look like an 18th century nobleman in a powdered wig (although if you can find one, please go for it and tell me how).

It might look like a freelance skill. A side business. A day job you don’t hate.

A coach named Mike Monday, a music coach I respect enormously, talks about this idea. That your day job or your side income is essentially your patron. The thing that gives you the freedom to compose what you actually want to compose.

Film composer Mike Verta calls it multitasking. He was getting offered gigs where clients just wanted him to sound like Hans Zimmer. He didn’t want to sound like Hans Zimmer. So he developed other skills. Built other income streams. And suddenly when a gig came in that he didn’t want, he could say no without breaking a sweat.

Because here is the truth nobody tells you.

There is almost no worse feeling than writing music you don’t want to write, for something you don’t care about, that isn’t paying well, when you need the money.

The neediness poisons everything!

Scott Adams, the cartoonist behind Dilbert, has a concept called “talent stacking.”

The idea is simple. If you are a top 20% composer in the world, it is going to be very difficult to make a living. But if you are a top 20% composer AND a top 20% writer AND a top 20% salesperson AND a top 20% video producer, all of a sudden you become a completely different animal. Worth far more than a top 5% specialist in any single one of those things.

That is why I learned to write.

I get paid by other clients for my writing. Some of it has appeared on major networks. So when I want to be a loafing artist flirting around with solo oboe pieces that have zero commercial value because I have a creative itch, I don’t need to go find music gigs. I can loaf about for weeks on this solo oboe piece. And even if it doesn’t go anywhere, I had a great time in my loafing.

My patron covers it.

So I ask you this.

What skills do you already have that could become your patron?

What could you develop that would mean you never have to score an adult film with your mother-in-law in the house?

Would you like some ideas? Hit reply if this is something that interests you…

I might put together something that could be of huge benefit to a composer in the heaps of this.

Think on these things, you silky little composer you.

And remember…

The world waits for your music…

-Luke

At Tortured Composer's Society, it's our mission to create and provide a community that helps you live a more creative and fulfilling life as a composer. When Tortured Composer's Society was established in 1685 (or thereabouts), we wanted to make the community an inclusive, welcoming table where everyone can come to overcome their creative blocks and thrive as composers.

We believe that every composer, from the bedroom producer to the concert hall maven, deserves a place to explore their craft without judgment. Our community understands the unique challenges of staring at blank manuscript paper at 3 AM, the peculiar torture of hearing a melody in your head that refuses to translate to the page, and the specific type of existential crisis that comes from comparing your work to Bach's while eating cold pizza in your pajamas.

We will always aim to get better at what we do every single day. This means constantly refining our understanding of what makes composers tick, what makes them stuck, and what makes them suddenly breakthrough at the most unexpected moments. We study the patterns of creativity, the psychology of artistic blocks, and the practical realities of making music in a world that often doesn't understand why you need absolute silence to hear the French horn line in your head.

In addition, our primary focus is on our relationship with you. This isn't about broadcasting generic advice into the void. It's about understanding the specific flavors of torture that each composer experiences. Some of you are tortured by perfectionism. Others by comparison. Still others by the haunting suspicion that maybe you should have become an accountant like your mother suggested. We see you. We understand you. We're here for all of it.

This way, every time you hang out with us, you end up getting an idea that takes your compositions to the next level. Sometimes that idea is a technical solution to a thorny orchestration problem. Sometimes it's permission to write something terrible. Sometimes it's just knowing that someone else out there also had to Google "what note is the open G string on a violin" for the hundredth time.

We particularly appreciate when our following provides feedback via testimonials, reviews, and comments left on our site or social media accounts. Your stories of breakthrough moments, creative disasters, and everything in between help shape our understanding of the composer's journey. When you tell us about the time you accidentally wrote a fugue in your sleep, or when you finally understood what secondary dominants were after years of confusion, these stories become part of our collective knowledge base.

Because with that feedback, we can use it to make your next newsletter even better than the last. We're constantly refining our approach based on what resonates with you. Did a particular analogy finally make modal interchange click? Did a creative exercise unlock something you'd been struggling with for months? We want to know about it.

Since we put so much effort into the relationship with you, we hope that any investment in us is exactly the way you hoped it would be. Whether that investment is your time reading these emails, your emotional investment in trying our exercises, or eventually perhaps joining our community in a more formal way, we take that trust seriously.

Because by choosing to go with Tortured Composer's Society, it's our promise that we provide a community you will fall in love with over and over again. A place where your creative struggles are understood, where your small victories are celebrated, and where someone will always understand why you're excited about discovering a new chord voicing.

Now, as much as we care about making the world more musical and more creative, we also care about your privacy. In an age where every click is tracked and every preference is monetized, we believe your creative journey should remain yours. We're committed to the right to your privacy and strive to provide a safe and secure user experience.

Our Privacy Policy explains how we collect, store and use personal information, provided by you on our website. We don't sell your information to companies who want to market sample libraries to you (though honestly, you probably already have too many). We don't share your struggles with perfectionism with companies selling meditation apps. Your creative journey is your own, and we're simply honored to be a small part of it.

It also explains important information that ensures we won't abuse the information that you provide to us in good faith. When you tell us about your compositional challenges, your victories, your preferred DAW, or your secret love of parallel fifths, that information stays with us.

By accessing and using our website, you can trust that what you want to be kept private, will be kept private. Your unfinished symphonies, your experimental phase with serialism, that time you tried to write a rap opera, all of it remains confidential.

If at any time, you would like to read our Privacy Policy and get a better understanding of your rights and liabilities under the law, feel free to visit our site, find the privacy policy in the footer and read it. It's written in plain English, not legalese, because we believe you should actually understand what you're agreeing to.

If there is something you are concerned about or wish to get more clarity on, please let us know by contacting us at [email protected]. Whether it's a privacy concern, a creative question, or just wanting to share your latest compositional triumph, we're here for it.

The Privacy Policy also informs you of how to notify us to stop using your personal information. If you decide that our particular brand of compositional torture isn't for you, we make it easy to step away. No hard feelings. The world of music is vast, and everyone must find their own path through it.

If you wish to view our official policies, please visit our website TorturedComposers.com. There you'll find not just policies, but resources, exercises, and a growing collection of stories from composers just like you who are navigating the beautiful, terrible, wonderful world of music creation.

Remember, composing is not just about the notes you write. It's about the journey of becoming someone who writes those notes. Every struggle, every breakthrough, every moment of doubt and every moment of clarity, they're all part of the process. We're here to make that process a little less lonely and a lot more fun.

The world waits for your music, but there's no rush. Take your time. Make mistakes. Write garbage. Write gold. Write everything in between. We'll be here for all of it.