The Scoring Samurai is a blog about what it actually takes to do serious orchestral work at a professional level—not just the craft, but the whole ecosystem. The tools that remove friction. The habits that protect the hours. The philosophy that keeps you at the desk when nothing is urgent and everything feels far away. Written by a working orchestrator for anyone who takes the work seriously.
Protect the Hours
You know the matrix.
The two-by-two grid. Urgent versus important. Four quadrants. Quadrant II in the top-right corner—important but not urgent—where Covey told you to live. You've probably seen it in a book, heard it in a workshop, or scrolled past it on LinkedIn between two other pieces of advice you already knew.
Everyone knows the matrix.
And yet most days don't look like Quadrant II.
You Don't Wait to Feel Like It
There's a specific kind of morning I've come to recognize.
The coffee is good. The light is right. The desk is clear. And still—there's a pull toward everything else. Email. Admin. Reading about the work instead of doing it. Cleaning the portafilter for the second time.
It doesn't feel like laziness. It feels almost rational. I'll start when I'm ready. When I'm in the right headspace. When I feel like it.
Steven Pressfield has a name for what's happening in those moments.
Hierarchy vs. Territory (and why My Score is a dojo)
In The War of Art, Steven Pressfield warns artists against defining themselves hierarchically—constantly looking up and down, measuring success by comparison, and evaluating every move by the attention it draws. It’s a trap. And I’ve stepped in it more than once.
What’s Your Territory?
There’s a quiet joy in having a room where things are just mine.
Not mine to own, but mine to work in.
In The War of Art, Steven Pressfield calls this your territory – a place you return to, not for applause, not for permission, but for sustenance. Arnold Schwarzenegger had the gym. A painter has the studio. A runner has the trail. A monk has the mat.
I have the score.
Espresso, Orchestration, and the Discipline of Small Things
There’s a saying I keep coming back to: The way you do anything is the way you do everything.
At first, it sounds like motivational fluff. But over the years, it has quietly become one of the most practical ideas in my life. Not a rule, not a pressure – just a lens. A way to see the connection between the small and the large. The trivial and the meaningful.
This post is about how I’ve come to believe in that connection – through shirts, espresso, phrasing, and a few burnt collars.
This Year, I’m Not Writing a Symphony Before Breakfast
There’s a particular kind of January optimism that smells like cinnamon, brand-new calendars, and overly ambitious to-do lists. Each year, we sit down and declare war on our bad habits. This year, we say, I’ll wake up at 5am. I’ll run. I’ll meditate. I’ll write a symphony. Sometimes all before breakfast.