Why I Started Writing Fingering Away From the Piano

A week or two ago, I would have told you that fingering decisions belong at the instrument. That is where I had always made them. Then I had a series of long conversations with Dominic Kaye, head of piano at Tonebase, and one offhand comment from him completely changed the way I think about this part of practicing. He mentioned that he writes a lot of fingering away from the piano. I had to stop him right there. I had never heard anyone say that before.

That idea has now become a real part of my practice life. I am writing fingering on the couch, in bed, in coffee shops, on the subway, at the airport, and while waiting in line. I do not mean a few notes here and there. I mean serious work on real repertoire. In the two videos below, I talk through how I started doing this, why it has been so useful, and what I think pianists can learn from trying it. The blog post that follows is a summary of the contents of the videos.

Part 1 Video

Part 2 Video

Why This Idea Hit Me So Hard

I was already in a frame of mind where I cared deeply about fingering. I had recently become even more convinced that writing fingering is not some optional extra for me. If I want to learn a piece in this lifetime, then at some point I need to decide how I am going to play it. Once that work is done, it keeps paying me back every time I revisit the piece. That is why I think of fingering as a one-time effort that can produce a lifetime return.

So when I realized that some of that work could happen away from the instrument, it felt enormous. If I can do meaningful fingering work without sitting at the piano, then I am no longer trapped by the idea that every useful musical task has to happen at the keyboard. That changes the whole game.

Why Writing Fingering Away From the Piano Is So Useful

The most obvious benefit is flexibility. There are plenty of moments in daily life when I cannot sit down and practice normally, but I can still read, think, mark a score, and make decisions. I might be too tired at the end of a long teaching day to do serious physical work at the piano, but I can still lie on the couch and write fingering for an hour. I might be traveling, waiting in line, or sitting in a coffee shop. Those moments used to feel separate from practice. Now they do not.

There is also a quantity issue. If I enjoy the task more, I am going to do more of it. That matters. I have already found that I am producing a much greater amount of fingering work because the task has become easier to fit into life. I do not need a perfect setup. I do not need a specific block of uninterrupted piano time.

The Piano Becomes the Answer Key

At first, I thought there was an obvious objection. What if I write the wrong fingering?

That sounds like a fair criticism until you look at what actually happens. If I write fingering away from the piano and then return to the instrument later, the piano becomes the answer key. Some of my decisions will be right. Others will need to change. But even the wrong decisions teach me something specific.

Maybe I realize that a certain stretch between two fingers is simply not comfortable for my hand in a certain position. Maybe I notice that a pattern that looked logical on the page does not work when the keys are distributed a certain way. Maybe I find out that a hand redistribution I imagined is much less natural than I thought it would be. None of that is wasted work. It is information.

That is one reason this process has become so interesting to me. I am not just solving fingering in a narrow sense. I am learning more about my hands, the layout of the keyboard, and the kinds of solutions that tend to work for me.

Why This Is a Better Learning Process Than I Expected

This whole thing connects very naturally with ideas I already care about, especially desirable difficulty and delayed feedback. I talk often about the value of letting students try something before handing them the solution. If I spoon-feed every answer immediately, the student may get the correct result in the short term, but they often learn less.

The same thing applies here. When I write fingering away from the piano, I am forcing myself to commit to a solution before checking it. Then, when I return to the instrument, I get feedback. If the fingering works, great. If it does not, I have a concrete reason to adjust it. That kind of learning sticks much better than immediately relying on the keyboard for every tiny decision.

In a strange way, I become both teacher and student in the process. I make the decision away from the instrument, then later I test it, evaluate it, and revise it. That is a powerful loop.

This Has Changed the Way I Think About Mental Practice

I do a lot of mental practice already, and this new fingering work has strengthened it. The two things feed each other.

If I can write fingering away from the piano, that means I am conceiving of the keyboard, my hand positions, and my movement choices more clearly. I am not relying entirely on physical trial and error. On the other side, because I already do a lot of mental practice, I am better equipped to imagine possible solutions away from the instrument in the first place.

That relationship has been one of the most exciting parts of this process. It makes me feel even less dependent on the instrument in a narrow sense. Of course I still need the piano. I still need physical practice. But I do not need the piano in order to begin solving every problem.

I Do Not Think This Is Only for Professionals

One thing I feel strongly about is that this should not be treated as an elite trick only for advanced pianists. Yes, professionals can use it. I am using it constantly. But students can benefit too.

A student does not need to write the fingering for an entire Ballade away from the piano on day one. They can begin with four measures. They can write a few bars, return to the keyboard, and see what happened. Even that small exercise can teach them a lot. They will start to see where their judgment is strong, where it is weak, and how much they actually understand about their own hand and the instrument.

That is a very healthy thing to learn.

How I Would Recommend Starting

If you want to try this, do not make it dramatic. Start small.

Take a short passage from a piece you already know fairly well. Write the fingering for four measures away from the piano. Then return to the instrument and test it. See which decisions worked and which ones did not. Do not treat mistakes as failure. Treat them as data.

Once that feels more natural, expand the length of the section. Over time, you may find that you can do much more of this work than you expected.

Final Thoughts

This idea has changed my practicing world because it opened a door I did not realize was there. I used to assume fingering decisions had to happen at the keyboard. Now I see that a surprising amount of this work can happen elsewhere, and that doing it elsewhere may even improve the quality of my thinking.

I am still refining the process. I am still learning from it. But I already know that it has made my practicing more flexible, more enjoyable, and more productive.

If you are curious about this approach, watch the two videos above and see whether the idea resonates with you. Then try it on a small section of your own music. You may be surprised by how much useful work you can get done before you even touch the keys.

If you would like to work with me on practice methods, fingering strategy, mental practice, or serious piano study as an adult, get in touch. I teach in Brooklyn, across New York City, and online around the world.