P.Peeva joins A&R Factory as a Bulgarian writer, author and creator whose debut independent release, SOMADAYLESS, gives years of private lyric writing a voice at last. In this interview, she opens up about creating more than 30 sets of lyrics before finding a way to move her words into music, the emotional meaning behind the self-coined title, and why “someday” can become dangerous when it turns into a habit of postponement. She also discusses AI-assisted music with rare nuance, framing technology as a tool within a human-led process rather than the source of the song’s meaning. Across the conversation, P.Peeva reflects on authorship, creative risk, personal responsibility and the devastating reminder to say what matters while there is still time.
Welcome to A&R Factory, P.Peeva. Thanks for taking the time to talk to us about SOMADAYLESS, your life as a writer, and the unusual creative route that finally gave your lyrics a voice. Before SOMADAYLESS existed as a song, you had written more than 30 sets of lyrics without having a traditional route into music. What kept pulling you back to lyric writing when there was no obvious musical home for those words yet?
Creating texts around subjects that matter to me has always been part of my life. I have been writing stories, poems and lyrics for as long as I can remember, and many of those texts were never created with a specific destination in mind. A large part of what I write can exist on its own — as a story, a thought, a piece of writing — but it can also become a song. Most of those texts have never been published or performed anywhere, and that has never been a reason for me to stop writing. I do not write because something has to be released. I write because something has stayed with me long enough that I feel the need to put it into words.
Some of those lyrics I genuinely wanted to hear performed by real musicians and singers. In some cases, I was even willing to give the songs away. The response to the writing itself was often very positive, but the path to actually getting the songs made was much more complicated. I heard different reasons: some artists only work with specific songwriters, some explained that the industry often works music-first and lyrics-second, and others said they might consider the material at a later stage.
None of that changed my relationship with writing. If anything, it made one thing very clear to me: I had spent years creating without waiting for permission or for a guaranteed outcome. SOMADAYLESS was simply the point where the words finally found a way to become sound.
You created the word SOMADAYLESS yourself, but it instantly makes sense. What kind of emotions does the word evoke for you?
For me, SOMADAYLESS carries both urgency and tenderness. The word came from the idea that ‘someday’ can be comforting, but it can also become dangerous. We use it for the things we assume will still be there later — the call we will make, the person we will visit, the words we will say, the life we will start when the timing is better. SOMADAYLESS means living with fewer postponed moments.
It does not mean living recklessly or pretending the future does not matter. It means being more aware of how easily ‘later’ becomes a habit, and how often we confuse having time with being guaranteed time. Emotionally, the word makes me think of presence, unfinished conversations, missed chances, love, regret and responsibility. There is sadness in it, because some things cannot be recovered once they are postponed for too long. But there is also hope in it, because as long as something is still possible, we can choose not to leave it for someday.
You’ve said the technology did not decide what you wanted to say, because you already knew. In a conversation that often reduces AI-assisted music to novelty or controversy, what do you wish people understood about your role as the author behind SOMADAYLESS?
What I wish people understood is that AI did not give me the reason for the song, the message, or the emotional direction. Those existed before the technology entered the process.I knew what I wanted to say. I wrote the lyrics, developed the concept, shaped the structure, and made the creative decisions around what SOMADAYLESS should mean and how it should feel. The technology helped me turn that into a finished musical form, but it did not invent the human experience behind it.
I think the discussion around AI-assisted music often becomes too simplistic. People ask, ‘Was AI used?’ as if that one fact explains the entire creative process. It does not. The more meaningful questions are: Who had the idea? Who made the choices? Who shaped the message? Who decided what stayed and what did not? In my case, AI was a production tool within a human-led process. It gave me access to a form of expression that had previously been difficult to reach, but it did not replace the authorship behind the song. For me, that distinction matters. Technology can generate sound. It cannot decide what I have lived, what I care about, or why I needed to write those words in the first place.
There is something fascinating about a writer using generative technology to move past a gate that had previously stayed closed. Did making SOMADAYLESS feel like creative freedom, creative risk, or a little bit of both?
A bit of both, definitely. There was freedom in finally being able to move an idea all the way from words to sound without waiting for the traditional route to open. For years, I could write, imagine, structure and feel the songs, but there was still a practical gap between having the material and being able to hear it fully realised. Generative technology shortened that distance.
I’m not a musician, I’m not a singer, and I don’t have a musical education. I’m also completely aware that I never will. But technology gave me access to something I did have: an idea, a message, words, emotion, and a clear sense of what I wanted people to feel.
That is what made the process feel liberating. At the same time, freedom carries risk when you use it in a way people are still learning how to understand. I knew from the beginning that some people would reduce the entire project to the fact that AI was involved and ignore everything else behind it. I also knew that entering music without the conventional background, team or pathway would invite questions about legitimacy. Still, I think creative risk is often the price of creating something before there is a comfortable category for it.
For me, SOMADAYLESS was never about using technology to avoid the creative process or pretending to be something I am not. It was about refusing to let the absence of a traditional route decide whether the work could exist at all.Technology gave me the possibility to turn something that had previously existed only in my head and on paper into something another person could actually hear, feel and experience in their own way.
What could be better than that?That felt like freedom. The risk was simply being willing to stand behind it.
You are a Bulgarian writer, author and creator with a published book, a full-time corporate career and now an independent music release. Do those different parts of your life feed one another, or do they ask for completely different versions of you?
They do feed one another, even though on the surface they may look like completely different worlds.
My corporate career has taught me discipline, structure, responsibility and how to keep moving even when inspiration is nowhere to be found. Writing gives me something very different — a place where I can question things, observe people, explore emotions and say what cannot always be said in a meeting room.
I also support an organisation whose ideas and values I genuinely believe in, creating written and audio content for them on a voluntary basis. That matters to me because creativity, for me, is not only about personal expression. It can also be a way to contribute to something larger than yourself when you believe the message deserves to exist.
And then there is music. Music has probably had the deepest emotional place in my life. Since early childhood, it has given me something I have never found anywhere else — another depth, another reality, sometimes even a form of rescue. It has been there through every stage of my life, changing with me but never leaving.
So when music finally became part of my own creative work, it did not feel like I was suddenly becoming a different person. In many ways, it felt like something that had always been present had finally found another way to come through me.
I do not feel that I become several different versions of myself. I think these are different expressions of the same person. What changes is the language. In my professional life, I work with decisions, deadlines and practical consequences. In writing, I can stay with a thought much longer and examine what is underneath it. In the work I do for causes I believe in, creativity becomes service. And in music, words gain another dimension because rhythm, voice and sound can carry something that text alone sometimes cannot.
There is also a useful tension between all these parts of my life. A full-time career keeps me grounded in the real world. Writing protects the part of me that refuses to reduce life only to tasks and results. Voluntary creative work reminds me that not everything meaningful has to be transactional. And music connects me to something much older and more personal — something that has accompanied me long before I ever imagined I would release a song myself.
I do not think creativity needs one professional title. For me, the common thread has always been the same: if something feels meaningful enough, I want to find the form that allows it to exist.
Wildcard question: if SOMADAYLESS was a note left on someone’s kitchen table before they missed their chance to say the important thing, what would be the first line written on it?
As your life gets louder, hers gets quieter. Call your mom while there is still time. She knew the sound of your heart before the world knew your name.
Since its release, SOMADAYLESS has started moving beyond Bulgaria through international radio, playlists and editorial attention. What has surprised you most about watching such a personal, word-led project travel into places and ears you could never have planned for?
I’ll be honest — I did not expect the song to reach every continent.
It still has not reached Antarctica, but as far as I know, the residents there are not particularly active music listeners.
Jokes aside, watching SOMADAYLESS travel beyond Bulgaria has been a deeply meaningful kind of joy and recognition for me. The song began as something very personal and very word-led, so seeing it find its way into different countries, radio stations, playlists and editorial spaces has been something I could never have planned in detail.
What moves me even more is that every person who became curious about the song, the title, or the story behind the project also encountered the name Bulgaria connected to it. That matters to me. SOMADAYLESS is my song, but wherever it travels, a small part of my country travels with it.
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Discover more about the artist via her official website.
Interview by Amelia Vandergast