How to practice when you don’t feel like it
Ever have those days (or months) where practicing just feels darn near impossible?
Yeah, me too.
Of course, there are lots of life stuff reasons you might not feel like practicing music—things like grief, stress, general malaise or exhaustion.
This is not going to be an article full of “rah, rah, music will actually make you feel better!” stuff. I know you already know that music can shift your energy in a more positive direction--and that if you don't feel like practicing, it means that promise of feeling better afterward is not compelling enough to pull you out of today's hole.
And what what about those times when your overall energy is fine, but your mental/emotional block has to do specifically with playing music? How do you keep yourself focused musically, when practicing your instrument is the last thing you feel like doing?
In my experience (personally, and through conversation with hundreds of students), this kind of music-specific avoidance tends to boil down to one of two things:
Either you're feeling anxious about music in general,
Or you're on a plateau, don't feel like you're improving, and are super frustrated.
You can also experience both these obstacles at the same time.
Read on, and I'll give you some suggestions for handling both problems. I'll also give you two different choices for how you might structure a practice session when when you're pushing through this kind of muck.
Obstacle #1: You're feeling anxious about music in general.
Learning an instrument, especially if it is our first instrument, is humbling. We may feel like small children, knowing what needs to happen but without the wiring in place to make our hands act in accordance with our intentions.
When we finally quiet our inner critic, our spouse or children or cats may wrinkle their noses at our best attempts. Thanks, fam.
We turn on the television and see reality shows where people sing their hearts out... then turn to face a panel of judges who are paid to be merciless in their criticism.
What to do about it
Even if your deepest musical wish is to be a professional, idolized by others, leave that wish outside the practice room.
Even if you are already a professional, idolized by others, here's another reminder to leave that outside the practice room!
Practice time is for you. Practice time is not for any imagined or real people you hope will love you more if you master this instrument. (Here's a tip: it won't make any difference.)
I went into much more depth about specific strategies for dealing with music-related anxiety here. Go read or revisit that article when you're finished reading this one, if this is something you struggle with.
Obstacle #2: You're on a plateau, and it sucks.
When you are on a plateau, it feels like you've been stuck at exactly the same skill level for a long time.
It's as though you've been walking and walking, and you see no indication that you're any closer to your destination than when you started.
You remember the climb up to where you are now, that exhausting but intoxicating feeling of progress, but it's a distant memory now. Practicing doesn't seem to make a difference, and it's increasingly difficult to remember why you ever thought this was fun or worthwhile.
You may consider quitting your instrument. A lot of people do at this point.
Let's rethink this
Allow me to suggest that everyone who has ever mastered an instrument (whatever that means, exactly) has crossed many, many of these plateaus.
Allow me to further suggest that you are actually getting somewhere, even if you feel like you're walking in circles or backwards.
Entertain the possibility that an epiphany is around the corner. It could take any of a variety of forms:
...a sudden intuitive sense of something your brain hasn't been able to understand rationally;
...an encounter with a genre of music you didn't know existed and which ignites you completely;
...a new friend with whom you share an instant and inspiring musical rapport.
In the meantime you need motivation to keep practicing.
For that to happen, practicing has to feel a bit less like drudgery.
How to structure a practice session that is kind to you (and also effective)
Step 1: Stretch. Breathe.
Bring your best self to your work. Take 2-3 minutes to make sure your muscles are loose and your mind is clear.
I often like to start with a long, slow scale, letting my ears open and my muscles warm and relax into playing. For extra effect, sync your breath with your bow strokes (or every two picked notes, etc.)
Step 2: Play something you feel.
Start with your favorite tune. If every tune feels wrong today, make up something that expresses how you’re feeling.
Tip: emotional expressiveness is about 99% how you articulate (i.e. use your bow, pick, or breath). So don't worry about note choice if you're not yet fluent enough in music theory to make those choices without a lot of thought.
Step 3: Decide what to work on today.
You do not have to practice every tune you know, or every exercise assigned in your lesson, every single time you play.
Especially if you’re fighting frustration. Pick one or two things to focus on today. Then come back and do a couple other things tomorrow.
I am a huge fan of this question from Randy Halberstadt’s Metaphors for the Musician – “what can I do in the next [however many minutes I have] that will make me permanently a better musician?“
The answer to that question will always be something very small.
It could be: “I will master the transition between the last measure of the A part and first measure of the B part of this tune.”
It could be: “I will watch my arm in the mirror while I take down bows on the E string, until I figure out exactly when to start opening my elbow so my bow stays parallel to the bridge, and memorize that feeling.”
It could be: “I will practice a 6/8 picking pattern on open strings and see if I can get to where it starts to happen consistently without me consciously directing it.”
You get the idea.
Step 4: Get down to work.
Whether you've got five minutes, or five hours,* give it to your chosen focus area(s).
This is work, but it should be joyful work. If you get frustrated, take a step back.
Stretch tense muscles.
Break the hard thing up into smaller chunks, and focus on just one chunk for now.
If you’re having trouble focusing, take another minute to stretch and breathe. Play another slooooooow scale. Stand in front of the mirror and play open strings. Look for the places where you’re holding tension in your body.
*Please do not practice for five hours without taking lots of stretch breaks. Remember, musicians are “small muscle athletes” and this really is physical work!
And if you find yourself in the category of folks whose bodies can’t really handle this amount of playing on a regular basis no matter what you do—you’re not alone! I’m right there with you. It’s why I emphasize efficient, clearly-defined practice strategies when I’m working with students one-on-one, and in my own playing.
Work smarter, not harder, as they say.
Consistency of practice > length of practice.
This is always true. I'd always rather you practice more often than practice longer.
Frequent, shorter sessions are easier on your body, easier to schedule (and form a habit around), and give your muscle memory a chance to process and integrate but not to forget.
This “consistency over duration” axiom is especially true when you're fighting procrastination and frustration. Avoidance teaches your nervous system that music is hard, overwhelming, and maybe dangerous.
You know how when you put off cleaning the toilet long enough, you start subconsciously assuming it's going to take hours to do? Then you finally do it and it takes five or ten minutes, and the whole avoidance drama seems very silly in retrospect.
Regular, manageable practice chunks help your system downregulate which makes it easier to stop avoiding practice.
It also brings fun practice back into the realm of possibility. And fun practice is a non-negotiable goal, if we want our musical life to be sustainable.
Still can't even motivate yourself to start with Step #1?
Try setting a timer. Sit down and play whatever until the timer goes off. Then you're free to get up and do something else.
This may not work for you if you had parents who made you practice piano scales for two hours a day until the egg timer went off, or something like that. But if timers aren't an emotional trigger for you, this can be really effective.
Sometimes you may even find yourself still engaged and continuing to work, long after the timer goes off! That's great when it happens.
But don't get too tricky with yourself. It has to be okay to get up when the timer goes off, or you'll slide right back into avoidance.
How long should you set the timer for? I recommend no longer than 30 minutes. Even 10 minutes can be great.
The timer is just to get you past the starting friction, so you can find out what you really have the energy and focus for today-- instead of assuming that amount is zero.
If your timer container is too long, getting to work won't sound easy enough, and you're unlikely to do it.
(Here's a secret: this timer strategy is also how I finally got this article finished and out in front of you. 😆)
You got this.
Be nice to yourself, and keep going. 💚
Updated, revised and expanded from a blog post I originally published April 13, 2011
