LIVE. WORK. COMPOSE: A composer’s experience of the work-life balance

written by Robert Crehan, British composer and civil servant

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A little while ago, I was reminded about an online image I saw with a breakdown of the daily lives and working routines of several significant historical figures. I remember thinking about how few of them had “day jobs”, or activities they did for a living, alongside the work that they were known for.

Almost two years ago I decided to ditch the flexibility (and insecurity) of a part-time job in hospitality for the rigidity and security of a full-time job in the civil service. My main concern in making this decision at the time was the impact it might have on my creative process, and the resulting work I produce as a composer. Now, having written several pieces of various shapes and sizes under these conditions, I feel like I’m in a  better place to understand my creative process, and perhaps in a good position to impart some of my experience having been in this position.

I should probably preface this by saying that I’m not a composer who finds the creative process particularly quick, easy, or painless, so limiting my already valuable composing time further doesn’t necessarily improve my creative working conditions. Here are some of my thoughts and feelings about being a composer who works a completely unrelated full-time job:

The Juggling Act

I would say that the energy and time commitment of a full-time job can certainly be challenging for anyone with a creative drive. After a full workday, energy for composing is at a low point, making it difficult to engage deeply with any meaningful music making. Generally, I find it difficult to balance a full-time job, maintaining a social and personal life, and composing. I’ve noticed that the more attention I give to one of these aspects of my life, the others start to get neglected.

Balancing priorities is key. On some days, work might take priority, while on others, composing or personal activities may require more focus. But how can this be achieved?

I’ve found that understanding when your creative drive is strongest can help with planning creative work time. For instance, if you find yourself itching to compose on weekends, focus on personal or social life after work during the weekdays, and leaving weekends to explore creative work. Being adaptable and occasionally shifting priorities can help manage all aspects of life more smoothly.

I’ve also always struggled with getting into a “fixed routine” with composing. I’m not sure why; perhaps I get easily distracted or spend too much time endlessly tinkering with ideas and agonising over minute details. Oscar Wilde’s quote about the comma sums this up for me: “I have spent most of the day putting in a comma and the rest of the day taking it out.”

To combat this, I’ve tried to be more organised by outlining windows for composing time each week. Some days I might have arranged to see friends after work or travel to London for a rehearsal, so I’ll review my diary for the week (I keep a small diary so I don’t lose track of what’s going on) and think, “Okay, I’m not free on Monday evening, so maybe I can get up extra early and work then,” or “This weekend looks busy, so I’ll need to compose more during the week,” etc. I don’t consider myself to be a particularly organised person, but my response to problems is often to break things down and try to organise them to be more manageable.

One effective (and probably obvious) strategy I’ve found useful is to set clear boundaries and dedicate specific time to creativity. Usually, I try to keep my weekends free for downtime, so my composing time tends to fall during the workweek. I typically allocate at least an hour in the evening to composing, but within that hour, I may only have a focused, fruitful 10-15 minutes if I’m lucky. It’s those brief moments of productivity that excite me and give me momentum for the next day’s work. I sometimes extend my working window if I’m on a roll, but I’ve learned to accept that not every session will yield something useful, and that’s totally fine.

Different times of day offer me different things creatively. Early mornings are often when my mind feels most focused, and I think of this as “dead time” — a period without other demands or distractions. In contrast, evenings allow for more relaxed, experimental creativity, although they can also bring the mental clutter of decompressing from the workday or preparing dinner. Everyone is different, of course.

Structuring workload — the “List of Five”

One technique I use to structure my working windows is something I started during my final year as an undergrad in Birmingham, which I call the List of Five. It’s simple: on Post-It notes or a small whiteboard, I list five manageable tasks to achieve by the end of the day or work session. As I complete each task, I cross it off. If I complete all five, I reward myself with the rest of the evening off! If I don’t complete all five, the remaining tasks carry over, and completed ones are replaced with new tasks. Keeping five items on the list each day or session focuses my attention on small, achievable goals. Each completed task boosts my confidence and momentum, sometimes leading me to extend my working window to accomplish more.

Balancing downtime is especially challenging when both work and creativity demand so much of my attention. Safeguarding time to unwind, relax, and socialise is essential for sustaining creative productivity and mental well-being. Sometimes, creativity can be scheduled, but social or personal time requires a bit more flexibility. Integrating short breaks, like a quick walk or coffee with friends, can refresh me without disrupting my workflow too much. The challenge is to ensure that neither work nor creative pursuits consume all my free time, leaving room for personal enjoyment. 

I know I’m not the only composer who’s experienced the thoughts of “if I’m not actively being creative, I’m slacking off”. It’s an easy trap to fall into, especially when you don’t have too much downtime anyway. However, in my experience, those times of allowing myself to “slack off” have led to the breakthroughs I’ve been searching for and have actually boosted my productivity. A prime example of this for me is how I conceived of ‘September 6th, 1951…’. A deadline was looming, and I felt like I’d hit a wall. I was feeling frustrated with my lack of progress and was completely stuck for ideas. Some friends had invited me to go with them to a gig at Café OTO, and although my mind was hitting me with the classic “you don’t have time to slack off!”, I decided to go anyway. Just before the first half of the gig ended, the entire concept for the piece came to me, and everything seemed to click into place almost instantly. I left OTO that night feeling excited and couldn’t wait to put my new ideas into action!

Even if you’re limited for time and struggling to come up with ideas or figure out what to do with the ideas you have, my advice is to be kind to yourself; allow yourself some time away to enjoy life—read a book, watch a movie, meet a friend for coffee, or go out and see some live music. I often try to remind myself that the mental “cogs” are still turning even when I’m not actively working. You never know when or where the ideas will come from!

F.O.M.O. – The Fear of Missing Out

Composing, whether productive or not, is all part of a larger creative process and journey. Managing my time carefully and trying to maintain some degree of flexibility allows me to balance my job, my creativity, and my personal life without too much compromise. Despite this, having limited time to compose can create a feeling of being “out of the loop” or “missing out” on certain opportunities compared to those that have more available time to compose. 

Fortunately, I don’t think I’ve necessarily “missed out” on much—at least no more than what is typical due to some of the application restrictions on some schemes and opportunities such as age or location, but that’s a separate conversation to be had. However, it has made things more challenging when it comes to attending certain concerts, opportunities, and events during the working week. Much like my available time day to day, I’ve tried to manage my annual leave allowance at work deliberately to minimise missed opportunities, but I’m also aware that the civil service offers a generous annual leave quota. In that respect, I may be at an advantage compared to those working in other sectors.

That said, I do believe there are alternative frameworks that music organisations could consider which would enable more composers to participate fully without compromising important professional or personal obligations. This would not only benefit the artists but also the organisations themselves by welcoming a broader range of perspectives and experiences into their programmes.

One approach to making composition programs more accessible is to offer longer, less intensive schemes. Rather than a concentrated six-month program with multiple days of attendance each week, a structure spread over a longer period with fewer sessions would be especially helpful for those with limited annual leave; intensive programs often consume nearly all available leave, forcing composers to sacrifice other projects or essential downtime. Many composition programs currently function as short-term, intensive commitments, assuming a level of flexibility that doesn’t align with the reality of composers who rely on full-time work for financial stability. A more extended, low-intensity program—meeting only a few times per month, with flexible attendance and well-communicated obligatory days—could allow artists to engage fully without depleting their annual leave.

This format could even offer varying levels of engagement, enabling participants in various domestic and working situations to attend sessions as they’re able while still developing at a suitable pace. This framework would also benefit artistic development, giving participants more time between sessions to process and implement what they’ve learned, while giving time for creative reflection — and come back with fresh insights and ideas. This slower pace could encourage deeper learning and lead to more thoughtful, refined work. This extra time could mean more opportunities to experiment, reflect, and grow without the constraints of a packed schedule that may otherwise lead to creative burnout.

An approach like this would give artists the flexibility to balance their equally important commitments with their development as composers, potentially reducing the need to choose between income stability and artistic growth. Why shouldn’t both be possible?

“What do you do for a living?”

It’s important to recognise that conventional pathways in music and the arts aren’t always in alignment with the realities of 21st-century life. To maintain my sense of identity as a composer while engaging with these challenges, I focus on integrating my creative work into everyday life, allowing it to coexist with my career.

I recently had a stimulating conversation with my friend and mentor Andrew Toovey in which we discussed the topic of full-time work and its impact on composer identity. If someone asked me, “Are you a composer?” I wouldn’t hesitate to respond with, “Yes, I am.” But if they instead asked, “What do you do for a living?” I’d likely give my civil service job title — and maybe find a way to crowbar in that I also compose. This duality in my answers reflects the complex relationship many composers share with their art, shaped by both economic realities and the creative process, especially in today’s economic climate.

Historically, many composers have successfully handled this balancing act, including: Charles Ives — “the leading American composer of art music of the 20th century” — who worked as a life insurance executive while composing in his free time; and Philip Glass, who drove a taxi in New York while writing Music in Twelve Parts and Einstein on the Beach. Despite spending much of my time on other pursuits (mainly working in the office), I still consider myself a composer at my core. Why should I feel any less of a composer simply because I have another job that supports my ability to create? I don’t believe that being able to compose full-time makes anyone less of a composer. Not everyone has the luxury to dedicate time solely to composition and that’s perfectly valid.

My identity as a composer isn’t tied to how often I compose or by my productivity within a specific timeframe. For me, being a composer is about an inner commitment to creativity and self-expression. Even if composing isn’t my primary occupation, it remains, and will always be, my current preoccupation. The label “composer” feels intrinsic to my sense of self, whether I’m at the office or actively composing. Time to compose is indeed a luxury, and particularly in the UK right now, full-time composition seems like an unrealistic possibility. Maintaining a sense of identity as a composer while working in a different field can be challenging, yet I find that by not associating my identity too closely to productivity, it’s easier to preserve my sense of being a composer, regardless of the amount of unrelated work I do.

Our experiences from day-to-day work feed into our art, consciously and unconsciously; adding new perspectives, inspirations, and a grounding that adds depth to our work. Working outside of the musical domain can keep us connected to other diverse communities and ideas that can also influence our work as composers. This interplay between roles as “working professionals” and as composers can cultivate a creative fusion that, I believe, can strengthen artistic expression. Rather than diminishing our identities as composers or artists, our day jobs can actively support them. The work we do outside of our artistic discipline provides stability, and sometimes it even funds the equipment, spaces, and resources necessary to create new work. Rather than viewing it as something that detracts from our composing time, we can positively frame it as something that actively sustains our creative pursuits.

A day job doesn’t have to be a compromise. It can serve as a solid foundation that enables me to continue doing what I love. Composing under these conditions at times demands resilience and personal resolve; creativity isn’t a sprint to the finish line, but a marathon, sometimes across treacherous terrain. It takes time, patience, and inner strength to stay true to oneself and one’s artistic values, regardless of how limited composing time may be. This is why, regardless of its limitations, and looking back over the past few years, I have found that there have been many benefits for me personally in working full-time for the civil service whilst also pursuing my creative career.

Finding the Balance

The unfortunate reality for most is that day jobs often require us to “fit in” creative pursuits around the demands and responsibilities of a non-creative job. Instead of guiding the process, it’s often relegated to existing around our lives, which can lead to creative exhaustion, where the sheer effort of balancing everything drains all motivation and energy. Equally, while total flexibility may seem attractive, having complete creative freedom could feel quite daunting and potentially overwhelming and directionless. A more balanced daily framework — such as a set time to compose, a balance of responsibilities, or a stable arts job — can actually support the creative process. In the end, an ideal creative career isn’t about absolute freedom or absolute structure, but about striking the right balance. While some readers may recognise the benefits of both approaches, the main question is how the approach ultimately impacts on the individual’s creative process and output.

For me, the principal drawback of having an unrelated full-time job is the significant amount of time and energy it demands on a regular basis. While it does require these resources, one reassurance is the security of knowing what my finances will look like, when they will appear, and where my time is focused during the working week. Part of me enjoys having something outside of my musical life to engage with, providing an alternative focus for my mind.

As artists, we develop a range of skills that often extend well beyond our discipline: project management, communication, teamwork, and strategic thinking are essential to being a composer and naturally evolve through our practice. We’re accustomed to managing deadlines and collaborating with other artists, which translates well to almost any field. Our problem-solving abilities, adaptability, and appreciation for diverse perspectives — traits commonly honed in non-arts roles — also enrich our music-making, making us more well-rounded artists. The combination of our lives as composers and working professionals strengthens our creative approach, while our unique capacity for creative thinking, a skill in high demand outside the arts, brings innovation to various roles. The discipline behind refining our craft fosters a strong work ethic and commitment to growth, forming a “creative toolkit” applicable in any career. Even in non-arts fields that may seem far from our creative identity, these skills remind us of our adaptability and versatility, qualities that enhance all our work.

Recently, I’ve reduced my office hours to pursue part-time doctoral studies in composition. While this move brings me closer to being more involved in composition, the extra commute and extended days have ironically left me with even less time to compose than before. However, having navigated these time constraints over the past few years has shown me that my commitment to composing remains as strong as ever. I feel I’ve proven, at least to myself, that no matter how hectic and time-limited life can become, there’s always more music to be written and new artistic avenues to explore. I’m confident that, despite any obstacles, I will continue to carve out the time and space to make it work as I always have done. 

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A new large-scale work that I’ve written for CoMA, GUIDE TO SURIVIVAL IN URBAN ENVIRONMENTS, VOL.1. will be premiered on 17/12/2024 alongside works by David John Roche, Charlotte Glyn-Woods, and Naomi Pinnock at the Brady Arts Centre in London. Tickets available here:

• https://www.coma.org/get-involved/ensembles/london/winter-concert/

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Robert Crehan (b. 1991) is a British composer and civil servant hailing from Luton, Bedfordshire. Robert’s work is heavily inspired by visual art and literature, and is currently concerned with elements of improvisation and spontaneity. Alongside his work for the Ministry of Justice, he is currently studying on the Postgraduate Research programme at Guildhall School of Music and Drama where he is being supervised by Paul Newland, Richard Baker, and Steve Potter; Robert’s work has been performed in the UK and beyond by ensembles such as the London Symphony Orchestra, London Chamber Orchestra, orkest de ereprijs, Plus Minus Ensemble, EXAUDI, CoMA London, and the Carice Singers, among others.

Header photo: Kevin Leighton