Stephen King’s On Writing: Lessons on Practice for Singers and Artists
Stephen King’s On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft is ostensibly a book about writing, but I found myself repeatedly making connections with music and performance while reading it.
What interested me most was not a collection of rules about how to write. It was King’s attitude towards developing a craft: work regularly, accept rejection, read widely, protect the time in which you work, learn to remove what is unnecessary, and allow some distance before judging what you have created.
These principles are remarkably transferable. As a singer and vocal coach, I recognise many of them in the way musicians develop technique, interpretation and artistic judgement.
Rejection Is Part of Developing a Craft
One of the stories that stayed with me comes from King’s early years as a writer.
He describes putting his rejection slips on a nail in the wall. Eventually, the nail could no longer support their weight, so he replaced it with a spike — and continued writing.
What makes the story valuable is what happened among all those rejections. At sixteen, King received a short response from editor Algis Budrys telling him that the story was not right for the publication but that he had talent and should submit again.
That small piece of encouragement clearly mattered. But so did all the rejections surrounding it.
For performers, rejection is equally difficult to avoid. Auditions, competitions, agencies, casting decisions and professional enquiries do not always produce the result we want. A rejection can contain useful information, but it is not necessarily a judgement on the ultimate value of the artist.
What matters is whether we continue developing the craft.
Regular Work Matters More Than Waiting for Inspiration
King is very specific about routine. In On Writing, he recommends that a beginning writer should aim for about 1,000 words a day, initially allowing perhaps one day off each week. He also describes working at approximately the same time each day and creating conditions in which writing becomes habitual.
I recognise the principle immediately.
Regularity produces material. A writer who writes consistently eventually has pages that can be revised, rejected, reorganised or developed. The same principle applies to musicians. Regular work gives us something to work with.
But there is an important distinction for singers.
Daily commitment does not necessarily mean singing every day regardless of the condition of the voice. If the instrument is fatigued and needs rest, forcing another vocal session can be counterproductive.
The work can continue in other forms: listening, reading, studying a score, translating text, examining phrasing, thinking about interpretation or learning more about the composer and the work.
Consistency should not be confused with mindless repetition. The objective is continuous development.
Edit Without Sentiment: Know What to Remove
King uses the deliberately severe expression “kill your darlings” for an important part of revision: being prepared to remove something you particularly like when it does not serve the work as a whole.
I find the principle highly relevant to performance, although I prefer to think of it simply as learning what to remove.
Singers can become attached to particular effects: a portamento, an extended high note, a dramatic pause, a change of dynamics or something that simply feels satisfying to produce. The fact that an effect is beautiful in isolation does not necessarily mean that it belongs in that particular phrase.
The more useful question is: does it serve the music, the text, the composer and the dramatic situation?
Sometimes artistic maturity is not the ability to do more. It is knowing what to leave out.
Step Away Before Judging Your Work
Another idea in On Writing that particularly interested me is King’s approach to the completed first draft.
He recommends putting the manuscript away for a minimum of about six weeks before returning to it. The purpose is distance. When he reads it again, he describes encountering the work almost as though it had been written by somebody else. Problems that were difficult to perceive while writing become easier to see.
I have experienced something very similar with recording.
Immediately after singing and recording something, our perception is still connected to the physical and emotional experience of producing it. We remember how a phrase felt, whether a high note was difficult, what happened in the room and what we intended to do.
Listen again a week or two later and you may hear it with very different ears.
I have noticed this both in my own singing and when working with pupils. With some distance, the judgement can become more useful and more creative. Things that seemed enormously important immediately after the performance may no longer matter; other details suddenly become obvious.
Creation and evaluation do not always need to happen at the same time.
Read Widely — and Listen Widely
King repeatedly emphasises reading. His position is simple: if you want to write, you need to read a great deal as well as write a great deal. Importantly, he recommends exposure not only to excellent writing. Bad books can also teach us something because they help us recognise what does not work.
For me, the musical equivalent is listening widely.
A classical singer does not need to listen exclusively to classical singers. I find value in listening to opera, Baroque music, medieval music, gospel choirs, rock, heavy metal, rap and completely different approaches to the human voice.
The same applies outside music. A film director learns from watching different directors — observing camera work, acting, rhythm, editing and the construction of a scene. A painter develops perception through exposure to different schools and techniques.
Broad exposure gradually develops discrimination. Discrimination helps develop taste. And taste has an enormous influence on artistic style.
Technique gives an artist possibilities; taste influences which possibilities the artist chooses.
Learn from Great Artists Without Becoming an Imitation
There is another aspect of King’s thinking that I find particularly useful for performers. He recognises different levels of ability and speaks very frankly about writers such as Shakespeare, Faulkner and Yeats occupying an exceptional category.
There is no reason for a developing artist to pretend to be somebody else.
For a tenor, studying Franco Corelli, Mario Del Monaco or Luciano Pavarotti can be enormously valuable. We can study technique, phrasing, diction, timing and interpretative decisions. But trying to become Corelli or Pavarotti is something different. We have our own anatomy, temperament, experiences and artistic instincts.
Study should expand our possibilities rather than erase our individuality.
I found an interesting parallel in Miyamoto Musashi’s The Book of Five Rings. Writing about an entirely different discipline, Musashi insists that principles cannot simply be read, memorised or imitated: they have to be absorbed through practice until they become part of the practitioner.
That idea is particularly appropriate to singing. Understanding a technical concept intellectually is not the same as having the body reproduce it reliably.
Musashi also writes about knowing other approaches in order to understand one’s own. I think this connects directly with King’s insistence on reading widely. Exposure to other artists is not a threat to individuality. Used intelligently, it helps us discover it.
Protect the Conditions in Which You Work
King also writes about protecting his working environment: a private space, a closed door, regular hours and as few distractions as possible.
The modern equivalent is obvious.
A serious practice session is very different when the phone, messages and constant external interruptions disappear. This applies whether someone is writing a novel, composing a song, learning a role or working patiently on one aspect of vocal technique.
Concentration allows us to notice details. And detailed work, repeated over time, is where much of artistic development actually happens.
This may be the strongest idea I took from On Writing: do the work regularly, but do it intelligently.
For a singer, that includes knowing when to practise and when to rest; when to repeat and when to analyse; when to listen to great singers and when to stop imitating them; when to keep an interpretative idea and when to remove it.
King writes about writing. Musashi writes about strategy. The disciplines could hardly be more different. Yet both return repeatedly to something artists recognise very well: knowledge becomes useful through sustained practice.
Stephen King on Writing – Selected Video Resources
The Art of Writing: A Video Review of Stephen King’s On Writing
A focused and thoughtful summary of King’s core advice on the writing process — daily practice, wide reading, and letting the first draft unfold without judgment. A valuable visual companion to his book.
Stephen King, Tabitha King, and Owen King in Conversation
A meaningful discussion on creativity and family writing life, featuring reflections on story development, influences, and a reading from Under the Dome.
Further Insights on Writing
Additional reflections from King on storytelling, discipline, and his experience engaging with emerging writers.
Further Reading and Resources
For more information about Stephen King and his work:
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