That Wasn’t on My Bingo Card

There’s a saying I’ve mostly seen in TikTok comment sections: that was not on my bingo card, but I’m here for it.

Basically, it means: I wasn’t expecting this—but I’m glad it happened.

I had my first surprise bingo card item for 2026.

I wrote a song.

For the first time ever.

Well, co-wrote.

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I was visiting with a good friend of mine, a musician who writes songs with the ease of someone tying their shoes. We get together periodically to work on music, mostly covers, usually in preparation for open mic nights.

Our first meetup of the new year started the way they usually do: catching up on life since the last time we’d seen each other.

Then, somewhere between updates and guitar cases, he asked casually,

“Do you want to write a song?”

“Tonight?” I asked.

“Yes. Tonight.” A beat. “Have you ever written a song before?”

“No.”

“Okay,” he said, without hesitation. “Let me show you my process.”

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He grabbed his guitar, a pad of sticky notes, a dry-erase board, some markers, and his phone.

“First question,” he said. “Major or minor key?”

“Um… I love a good minor key.”

“Great. And what should we write about?”

“Love and heartbreak,” I answered confidently. “That’s what all the great ones are about.”

Since the goal was to write a song in one night, he told ChatGPT we were writing about love and heartbreak and asked for prompts. He read them aloud until one stopped me cold:

Grieving someone who’s still alive.

“That’s the one!” I exclaimed.

“Alright,” he said. “Let’s get started.”

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He handed me a Sharpie and told us to write down whatever words came to mind.

Loss Broken Missed Goodbye Adjust Branches Rain Season Funeral

Just to name a few.

Once we had a small pile of sticky notes, he asked ChatGPT to generate sample lyrics using our prompt and words.

“Now the work begins,” he said, turning to the whiteboard.

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He worked out a chord progression while we picked apart the suggested lyrics—circling lines we liked, tweaking others, discarding what didn’t fit, and filling in our own words.

The once-clean whiteboard slowly filled with phrases.

Those phrases turned into verses.

Then a chorus.

And somehow… a bridge.

Before I fully realized what was happening, we had a song.

We sang through it again and again, adjusting lines and shifting melodies, making sure it flowed and told the story we wanted to tell. Eventually, it stopped feeling like work and started feeling like something real.

“Are you ready to record?” he asked.

“About as ready as I’ll ever be,” I said.

We did a few takes—just raw audio on his phone, plus one video. Nothing ready to share yet, but definitely a beginning.

He has a small home studio and mentioned that as we continue to polish the song, the goal will be a proper recording.

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Then he smiled and said,

“Congratulations. You just wrote your first song. How do you feel?”

“Holy shit,” I said. “That was amazing. I feel good.”

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We parted ways for the night, and by the time I got home, he’d already sent me the recording. I’ve listened to it more times than I care to admit, still a little in awe that I helped create an original piece of music.

I’m a firm believer in following where the universe leads. After feeling a bit bummed about my first theatre audition of 2026, this unexpected songwriting session was exactly the bingo card item I didn’t know I needed.

Who knows where it may lead.

I hope to share the finished song with you when it’s ready.

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Author’s Note: I write about creativity, midlife reinvention, and the moments that quietly change us. Thanks for being here.

Here’s to staying curious and saying yes when the moment surprises you.