Creative block

10% inspiration, 90% perspiration.

I know EXACTLY the feeling. That tends to be my own writing process. Write a little bit, get stuck, wait forever, write a little bit more, get stuck, etc. It happens to most everybody, but there are ways to help speed up the process.

To me, working on several pieces at the same time has its pros and cons. If you get stuck on one piece, you can put that aside and work on a different one. At the same time, that can be a bit of a curse. Your mind can't focus on one thing, so it's constantly hitting roadblocks and inspiration is seemingly nonexistent. I've experienced both of those feelings over the years.

What I like to do is figure out which song I want to be the main priority. If you have 3 or 4 different songs you're working on, pick just one. Spend the majority of your time and effort on this piece, and only go to the other pieces when you feel like you've made enough progress with the main piece. My songs tend to be similar enough in style so I can sometimes take one unfinished piece and stick it onto the end of another unfinished piece. That doesn't always work, but it's worth a try. That's how I wrote "Journey".

As far as the composing process for an individual song, there are some other methods to killing roadblocks. Try to figure out what sort of story your song is telling. Is it a sad song? Dream up a short story about something sad. Is it an adventure epic? Think about someone going on an expedition. What is their process? Do they encounter danger along the way? Imagining a greater story behind the song always helps you see what to write next. Perhaps the song is not that complicated. Once you've written a few bars and get stuck, take a step back and just listen to those bars. Listen to them again. Listen to them some more. See if you hear a chord or melody in your head that would sound good. If you can't, I would consider listening to a style of music that is similar to that piece. Get some inspiration.

Often the best way to overcome a writing roadblock: just write. Seems like a paradox, but it really does get your mind back in gear if you just keep writing something. Doesn't have to be great and you don't have to keep it in the end. I've often written entire sections of 40 measures or more and ended up scrapping them because I found something better. It took those 40 measures to find it, but it was worth it.

I hope that's helpful! I would love to answer any other questions you might have! I'd love to take a look at your Symphony Finale and see if I can give you any ideas. :)

I just came across this.

Waiting for ideas to "come to you" is the most inefficient method of composing. Not "ineffective", just profoundly inefficient. It's okay for songwriting, but not for composing substantial works.

Ideas come more quickly if you go looking for them. In very practical terms, that means studying the music you've already committed to paper for ideas that can be used to generate new material. There are dozens of ways to do this, and mastering them forms the heart of learning composition.

Also, if you write to a plan, it's much easier to figure out what sort of material you need, which removes your reliance on the Muse. The plan is called "form." In its most pared down, textbook version, a classical symphonic first movement begins with a theme in the tonic key that immediately begins a modulation to the dominant or relative major. Why? Because the tonic key is a place of rest, and a symphony is about action and drama. It starts at home, roves the world in search of adventure, learns a few things along the way, and returns home, transfigured. You don't want a symphony to start off looking like it's going to spend the next few years living in its parents' basement.

Your symphony's first theme is resolutely in the tonic, with a pedal point and prominent perfect cadence hammering home the point. No harm in that, I suppose. But what do you do from there? Why, repeat the whole thing all over again! Repeat exactly. With that for an opening, it's no wonder you can't figure out what to do next--you haven't done anything that cries out for something to follow. Had you been "writing to the form," you'd have known that after the initial statement of the theme, your musical obligation was to hightail it out of the tonic. The only conceivable reason to repeat the opening material would have been to initiate a movement to the dominant, in other words, begin the process of transforming (developing) the material. That, in turn, would have caused you, not to wait for an idea to come, but to go hunting for ways to satisfy the expectations of the form.

In short, if you have an idea of what the whole piece is intended to do before you start, the framework acts as a stimulus to creativity by presenting you with a series of problem-solving challenges.

The Rondo has potential. Focusing on the A section, there are a couple of lovely figurations, and the cadence on V (bars 7-8) is nicely handled. So is the modulation to the dominant at the end. The approach is exquisite.

You’re obviously discovering that Alberti basses aren’ as easy as they seem. There are a number of factors that go into getting them right. The most important thing to remember is don’ alter the pattern simply to get the right harmony. Alberti basses are a weird hybrid of counterpoint and part writing. When the “but I need this note!” syndrome strikes, the problem lies with your counterpoint. In such cases, if you need the particular harmony, rethink the melody, not the accompaniment.

You have a tendency not to let your phrases breathe, preferring to tack a lead-in onto phrase ends. There’s no need for them. A well-prepared cadence should be given time to blossom in the listener᾿s ear before you move on.

The opening two bars don’ work. Part of it is that you shouldn’t be hammering away at the tonic on every beat at the beginning of a two-part texture unless you’ve got a damned good reason, revealed in subsequent bars. Worse, it turns that gorgeous swoop from E to G# into a garden-variety unprepared (and unresolved!) dissonance. I suspect you may have been looking for something original to say in the opening, but when I look at your melody, it’s already distinctive enough, and suggests a contrary bass motion that complements it properly.

I’ve gone and revised the A section to demonstrate my points. Hope it helps. (The original is first, the revisions second.) Of necessity, I had to do a bit of actual re-writing. I hope the logic speaks for itself.

Oh, and if you want MuseScore to play ornaments requiring a chromatic alteration, add a hidden, non-playing note with the required accidental at the start of the bar in another voice. The ornament then respects the accidental.