Nicole Atkins
“When you’re gardening, you’re writing.”
The key to a good writing process, says Nicole Atkins, is recognizing that the time you spend putting pen to paper is only a tiny part of it.
Good writers know that the secret to the writing process is that it never stops. Your writing process takes place when you’re sleeping, eating, walking, talking, biking, staring into space, whatever. The actual pen to paper part is only a small part of it; I don’t think I’ve never come up with a lede in front of my computer. Once you know that, you’ll be able to see inspiration in every waking moment.
When it comes to finally putting pen to paper, Nicole Atkins is dialed in to her writing process. She’s had the same pen for 15 years, and the ink has to be black (“blue is for high schoolers”). She’s very particular with her notebooks, and the paper has to feel “like a cashmere blanket.” But before all of that, her space “looks like a crime scene” with Post-it notes everywhere.
On a personal level: I loved this interview. I haven’t interviewed too many songwriters with this level of enthusiasm about their creative process. You won’t get that enthusiasm in the text below, but you’ll see it in our video.
Nicole Atkins’s fantastic new album Italian Ice is out now on Single Lock Records. Watch the complete video interview below or read the transcribed version, which has been edited for length and clarity.
Outside of songwriting, how much writing are you doing?
A
I do a lot of journaling, though not so much now. When you stop journaling and start to do it again, it's awkward. Even though it's just you and a page, you're like, "I have to break the seal." And initially you write things like, "This is a nice pen. This is a new pen. This is a big pen. I ate grilled cheese." And then the more you do it, the better and easier it gets.
I've always been a note taker. Lines always come to me. So my phone and notepads are full of one liners and single verses. When I write songs, I go back to my books thinking, Okay, this could fit here.. But I've been using this app for the last year that I love called Flowstate. You can set it for 5 minutes, 10 minutes, 20 minutes. You start freewriting and if you stop or if you pause to think, it erases everything.
It's a great way to get out of your way. So if I have a line in my head, instead of just writing it down in my notes, I'll say, "Okay, I have five minutes. I can do a Flowstate with it." Sometimes it'll be shit, but other times I get something that sounds like an LCD Soundsystem song out of nowhere. That's cool.
Do you try to write every day?
A
I don't. I envy the people who are able to wake up every day and do that. I just write make things throughout the day, but there's no specific time. There will be days where I'll finish a lyric and I'll spend the day walking around and worrying about it for eight hours. And then all of a sudden, right before I go to bed, it takes two seconds to write. And other times, I'll just feel really focused and it all comes at once.
I do try to draw every day, though. And I feel like my drawing helps my writing. It takes [the pressure] away. When I write a song, I feel like it has to mean everything. But my artwork is just fun for me. So it takes the pressure off the other and then things are able to come easier.
Is visual art a conduit to your songwriting process, or are they separate?
A
It's something that just really pleases me on a sensory level. I'll just think, Ooh, these are the colors for today; the possibilities are endless. I feel like if I didn't draw or paint something that day, I missed out on feeling really good. It's more of a thing that's just fun. I guess it's how kids play with slime. Why do they do that? For fun. Music is fun too. And writing music is really fun, but it's not fun all the time. It's a compulsion, but sometimes when you get stuck, it's so painful, and it's like, why is this so painful? It shouldn't be, but I guess if it was something that I didn't do for a living, it wouldn't be as painful.
I was going to ask about writer’s block later, but I’ll bring it up now. Does it happen for you?
A
I never abandon a song. A lot of melodies come to me when I'm walking or even sleeping. I'll be dreaming and I'll wake up and I'll be like, "Shit, I remember that." It's like free work. That's why whenever I nap, and my husband tells me to get up, I tell him I’m working. I was talking recently to a friend who was having writer's block. He said, "All I want to do is garden right now. I know I have to finish these lyrics , and I'll sit down and I'll do them after." I told him, "You need to understand that even when you're gardening, you're writing."
I feel like we're never not writing; it's just about whether you pay attention to it. I've learned to be easier on myself. If a song comes to me that I actually want to finish, I'll know that even if it's not working now, it's not going to be abandoned. I just might put over there for a while if it's driving me nuts, and I'll come back to it.
That’s one of the reasons why I like co-writing. One of my friends is Ken Levine; he's a comedy writer who wrote M*A*S*H and Cheers. And he was saying about co-writing, whether it's comedy or songs, "Sometimes your car breaks down. So you have to call a friend to give you a lift." Co-writing is just like that: if you're stuck, or if you're lonely and just want to hang out, that's when you call a friend and you co-write.
““You need to understand that even when you’re gardening, you’re writing. I feel like we’re never not writing; it’s just about whether you pay attention to it.””
I saw you did some co-writes with Carl Broemel from My Morning Jacket, whom I’ve interviewed twice on this site.
A
I've done a lot of work with My Morning Jacket. I've always gotten along with Carl, but he was also the one that I knew the least. I know Jim really well, and Patrick and Tom, so when I moved here to Nashville, I told Carl that we should get together and write a song. The chords that he plays, his voicings on guitar, are the style of chords that I'm so drawn to, like Radiohead meets the 1940s kind of chords. I don't know what they're called, but I call them the charm chords.
Once he started playing, I had this idea for the song “Mind Eraser.” The pre-chorus was like a Roy Orbison style chorus. And I thought that was the song. Then he starts playing these Radiohead chords under it and I'm like, "Whoa. That's a pre-chorus." So I started singing it and then walked around in a circle like a fly while he played and just started free singing. And he just followed me. After half an hour, in this weird kind of chant trance, we had a song. There's certain people that you can write with like that.
You said something earlier that I agree with, and it’s critical advice for any type of writer: your writing process never stops. It takes place when you’re sleeping, eating, walking, whatever. It’s a mistake to think it’s only happening when you put pen to paper.
A
Those are the times when the songs come, like when I'm walking or showering or cleaning. When you're in motion doing a repetitive thing, you don't think I'm going to go do this and write. But pay attention, because when you're doing something repetitive, it leaves your mind free to wander, and things might fall out of it. Most of my songs were written on New Jersey transit because when you're sitting still in motion, it fills up those synapses of stimulation where it leaves another part of your brain able to focus.
Do you think that has to do with the repetition of the sounds you hear on the train, like the clickety-clack, or the scenery going by?
A
It's like a fast picture moving by. It takes up an energy or a space in your brain where "this is busy over here, so you don't need to be busy in here," but you could be zoomed in like you're locking into a space in your brain without trying. When you try, that's when nothing happens. Any time I've ever said, "Sunday is the day I'm going to sit at my desk like Nick Cave and write,” I end up organizing my sock drawer and alphabetizing my record collection and then feeling like shit. There's a reason I don't sleep at night sometimes because I'm up putting melodies in my phone. I'm never not writing.
I remember reading an essay by Scott Adams, the creator of Dilbert, where he talks about the importance of boredom to the creative process.
A
Being home all the time is boring. But making something out of nothing is my natural thing to do. My mom said about my Saturday show, "Now I don't feel bad for raising you as a bar baby. When you and your sister were little, we'd be at the bar with our friends and their kids. You’d tell us that you wanted to go home, but we’d say no. Then all of a sudden you'd have your sister on your lap, making her a marionette puppet and passing around a tip jar,."
photo by Barbara FG
Let’s talk about your songwriting rituals. Some songwriters I’ve interviewed have very specific places where they like to write, or certain things they need. I’ve told this story before, but John Darnielle of The Mountain Goats told me that he wrote one album at the dining room table because “that’s where the mojo was.”
A
Sometimes you do find a mojo spot, but sometimes you'll go back thinking that's the mojo spot and then get frustrated because it's not anymore. I always keep a notebook on me. I'm a big fan of what pen I'm going to use. If I have a good mojo with a pen, then that pen is the pen. I'll start by writing my lyrics on shitty paper, but then if I start to get the song halfway done to where it has bones and I feel like I have to commit to it, I'll write it on the expensive paper that I love. I like the weight of it, the feel of it. It's just like a cashmere blanket.
But when I first start, it's Post-it notes and phone notes everywhere. The time that I will sit down and write is when I have to gather all my scraps and organize them and be like, Okay, this goes here. This goes there. Oh, here's the story. And then I'll get a pad out. Once all the notes are hunted and gathered, they get put down on the nice paper.
If I recall correctly, Hayes Carll told me that he has to buy his legal pads from one specific office supply chain.
A
I remember reading about the yellow legal pad. It was a Jeff Tweedy thing, and I was like, "I gotta do that. I'm only gonna use yellow legal pads." And then I started using them and I thought, They're not pretty. And the paper doesn't feel nice. I do write a lot of scraps on yellow legal pads, though. If somebody comes over to co-write, I always end up writing on the spiral orange cover Rhodia pads. Later I'll open it up and I'll be like, "What the fuck is this? Oh, that was when that R&B singer came over. " But there are books that are only my songs. Then there are ones that are co-written, there are my ideas for a musical, and then there’s the book that's scenes from a movie.
And what about pens?
A
So here's one that's great [holds pen up]. I've had this pen for like 15 years. It's a Stabilo point ball. And it has to be black. Blue ink is for high schoolers. I also love a good gel pen, like a Gelly Roll. And then this is my favorite discovery of the year [holds up pen box]. I bought a huge box of them. They're called Pentel Stylos. It writes like a pencil, but it's ink and it's really thin and it's wonderful.
But isn’t that a confidence thing? If you have something that gives you comfort and that has brought success before, why wouldn’t you use it?
A
When I have to do a lot of focused songwriting, or production work or arranging work, I'll wear a very blank uniform or a suit. I write a lot of songs with Jim Sclavunos from The Bad Seeds. And I remember saying, "Jim, do you ever not wear a suit? Is there ever a casual Jim day?" And he said, "No, because I'm always working."
I approach every day like I'm getting ready for work. I adopted the idea that if I'm gonna be songwriting or in a studio, or leading a bunch of musicians, I need my work outfit on. So when I feel tired, I can just tell myself, "No, you're not, you're at work." But that's only when it involves other people. If I'm having a really mentally struggling day, then I'll put on an outfit that might change my mood.
You mentioned all those old notebooks. Do you ever go back and mine them for ideas?
A
[Grabs one]. There's actually a good story about this one. This is a Shinola notebook with the song, "Good Night, Rhonda Lee." The day before we went to record, I played at The Detroit Institute of Art and went to the Shinola store because they sell notebooks and coffee. And I was like, "Oh cool. Maybe I'll go there and try to write the lyrics to 'Goodnight, Rhonda Lee.'" I had the music and I had the melody. I wrote that song with Chris Isaac and the chorus we came up with kept saying, "Say goodnight, say goodnight, say goodnight, say goodnight to the band."
And I thought What does that mean, say good night to the band? Is this a "Closing Time" type song? I thought if I buy this pretty notebook in the store, I'm going to write the words here. The people in the store asked me if I would like free embossing on the notebook. And I said, “Sure, but can you write the words ‘Good night, Rhonda Lee’ on it?" I said if you do it, I’ll write the lyrics to this song right now.
I wrote the lyrics in a half an hour. I thought. It’s written on the notebook. You just liked it in your head. Don't think about it. Just do it right now." It's almost like a celestine prophecy type thing: look what's in front of you that has been presented, now go with it and don't think about it.
How about time of day. Does that matter?
A
Early mornings, which don't happen often for me. That time right after walking up is when my brain is still sitting on the dream plane and things will happen. Really late at night is always a good time, but I wrote one of my favorite songs in the middle of the day. So any time is good.
And you need those Post-it notes. right?
A
Before I started Italian Ice, my parents were away, so I went to their house in Jersey to get started. It looked like a crime scene. They have a mirrored wall where I put all these Post-It notes of songs that are written, songs that I have to write, and songs that I want to write that might be awesome. It was like a map. But all I did was spend time making this big map and I didn't spend any time writing. And then I started writing songs that weren't even on that thing, so at the end of the day I had way too many songs to even pick from.
Eventually, I was able to narrow then down. Then I took those Post-it notes and transferred the writing to a notebook. I threw the notes away because they were the cause of all of my stress for the last few months. Once they're in the book, it's my document.
I always write everything down thinking, Now put those lines with that melody. But then once the melody starts, it sounds like I'm saying something, so what does that mean? And then I go with that and follow it as far as I can. For this album, though, there were a few songs I didn't have lyrics for and I was stressed and I wasn't sleeping. I'd call up Jim Sclavunos, and he’d ask me, “Do you write things down in books or in your phone? Well, that's your work. Go through them and see if anything fits.” Sometimes all those things you write down become your own reference library.
For the song “AM Gold,” the first song on the new record, I wrote the music six years ago and loved it so much. I heard it so big in my head, but I always thought that the guitar line you hear now was the vocal melody. [The night before we recorded, it], I feel asleep with the TV on. All of a sudden in my dream, the whole chorus came, so I had to get out of bed and write it down. It was barely legible. So that happened right at the very last moment, but it really took years. Do you find your sleep is affected now?
I’m finding it harder to sleep through the night.
A
I stay awake forever, but I'm dreaming so heavy. I recently had this dream that I was in love with someone that I'm totally not in love with. I'm very happily married, but in this dream, I woke up so heartbroken, and it just affected me all day. I told my husband about it. I said, “How do I not feel this way? Because it's fucking up my day.” And then I realized I should write about it. So I wrote this painful song called. “I Want You,” and it was so cool because I got to revisit these feelings that I haven't had in a while. It's cool that you can use this pain that's delivered in your dream and make something out of it.
Is it easy or difficult to write from a place of pain?
A
I find it a lot easier to write when I'm not in pain. That was fake pain. It felt physical and real, but it was a dream. But when I used to be in a horrible depression, I always thought I'm an artist, and this is how it's supposed to be. And this record was the first record that I made that wasn't in a time of hardship for me. It was a time of thriving. After every night of the sessions, we thought, Is this as good as we think it is? Because it's fun and just really easy. So maybe it's shit. But it was good, and it made me realize that you can make deep things while enjoying yourself.
I met Bruce Springsteen when my first record came out and he was so cool. He said, if I can give you any advice, you don't need to suffer to make good art.
Let’s end with this. What have you been reading lately?
A
I'm reading Mark Lanegan's autobiography that just came out called Sing Backwards and Weep. I love him. He's got these amazing lines like “One long season of rain/I will remain me thinking of you." His voice sounds like Sinatra in an alleyway.
I haven't read a really good fiction book in a long time. But there are two books that I always read when it's album mode time. One is A Night of Serious Drinking by Rene Daumal. He was a French writer who writes about being an alcoholic writer, and he hangs out at this bar with a rhyming dictionary and a book on the occult. He talks about all of these crazy personalities that are at the bar; they're all writers and artists and he's disgusted by all of it. It's the kind of book that you could just open to any point and get inspiration. The other book is The Bridge of San Luis Rey by Thornton Wilder. Those are the two books that always get me into that other worldly mind zone to write.