8 things I learned from writing a book about Taylor Swift

It’s rare to find an artist who’s never released a bad album; The Beatles come to mind, as does Nirvana. Swift falls into that same category—but she’s closing in on a 20-year recording career at this point, while both of those acts recorded for a relatively brief period. It’s a testament to her ear for quality—but even more an example of her superior songwriting skills.

Swift’s bridges often supersede chorus hooks, as on “Cruel Summer,” a satisfying rallying cry about a post-bar cry due to a tumultuous relationship. But her bridges also often take the form of a plot twist, deepening a song’s meaning or even taking the tune to an entirely different place. Take “mirrorball,” a song in which the protagonist addresses the peculiar nature of fame, namely that they are always giving their all to fans while performing. In the bridge, we find out that some unnamed parties have “called off the circus, burned the disco down” and “sent home the horses and the rodeo clowns.” But even with the show being over, the protagonist can’t turn off the need to please fans and continue performing, transforming “mirrorball” into a rich text about the need to find your identity when you’re not onstage.

Taken together, Swift’s albums form a rich, interconnected text, as if she was penning an ongoing book series with different volumes. Her lyrics frequently include recurring imagery or references—the rain, green eyes, the middle of the night—or build on previous lyrics to continue a story. Take Midnights’ “Maroon,” which subtly references shades of red (e.g., scarlet, rosé, burgundy) and (of course) maroon, all of which feel like callbacks to not just the song “Red,” but situations described in other songs.

Swift haters don’t just hate, hate, hate her song topics: They frequently accuse her of writing songs only about her exes, as if her career is fueled by revenge. Besides being a sexist assumption—you don’t hear male songwriters criticized for building careers about heartache and heartbreak—it’s also demonstrably false. 

Swift wrote “Tied Together With A Smile” about a friend living with an eating disorder, while “Fifteen” is a deeply relatable song looking back at high school terrors, heartbreak, and little victories. The tearjerker “The Best Day” is about how her mom supported her through the trials and tribulations of adolescence, while “Soon You’ll Get Better” obliquely mentions anxiety over her mom’s health. And Swift also writes vengeful songs about other people in her life: Take “Mean,” which is widely viewed to be a response to a savage review by the critic Bob Lefsetz.

Swift is extremely vocal about her influences, which include country artists like the Chicks and Shania Twain and legendary songwriters Carole King and James Taylor. (Fun fact: She’s actually named after the latter.) But her love of emo comes through on rockers like “The Story Of Us” and “Better Than Revenge” and she’s collaborated with both hip-hop stars Kendrick Lamar (“Bad Blood”) and Future (“End Game”). Back in 2011, Swift covered “A Sorta Fairytale” by Tori Amos live, and she cited Annie Lennox and Peter Gabriel as 1989 inspirations. 

Early in her career, Swift’s songs tended to be autobiographical, which made sense. As a teenager, she was writing about what she knew. But Swift doesn’t get enough credit for the way her songwriting has expanded into creative nonfiction. 

She penned “Mary’s Song (Oh My My My),” a sentimental tune about growing old with the love of your life, after being inspired by the cute elderly couple who lived nearby, while the album cut “Starlight” is a fictionalized telling of the relationship of Ethel and Bobby Kennedy. And then there’s “The Last Great American Dynasty,” which contains sharply observant lyrics about fame, fortune, and aging that’s based around the real-life story of Rebekah Harkness. 

As her career progressed, Swift delved further into full-on fiction; folklore is a rather literary effort featuring vibrant characters with interconnected lives, such as the so-called love triangle of Betty, James, and Augustine. And she’s never shied away from using hyperbole to talk about her life: She compares herself to a horror movie-caliber witch in “Who’s Afraid Of Little Old Me” and a monster on “Anti-Hero.”

Swift’s 2014 album 1989 is widely considered to be her official debut as a pop star, mainly because it’s her first album that eschews her country roots. But when you do a deep dive of her entire career in chronological order, the pop elements shine through—not just early crossover hits such as “Tim McGraw” and “You Belong With Me,” but also in the Max Martin collaborators on Red and all of the pop-oriented remixes she released from the beginning of her career.  

Above all, Swift excels at simplifying complicated emotions and emotional situations, and making them relatable to anyone going through the same things. And she has deep empathy for anyone navigating these challenging experiences. It’s no wonder young women especially can see themselves in Taylor’s music: Her songs honor and respect the messy thoughts and feelings that come with growing up—and make people feel like they’re not alone.