P&P Spotlight: Emily Sara

A cinematic pop confession on the quiet aftermath of betrayal, “Kwik Trip” turns a late-night convenience store run into a vivid emotional moment. Emily incorporates several small, everyday images - such as driving somewhere just to cry or hiding in an aisle to conceal her feelings in public - to illustrate the places we go to fall apart in private, and the way heartbreak lingers long after it’s “over.” Through these ordinary moments, the song captures the strange stillness that follows a painful ending, when life continues moving forward but the heartbreak remains unresolved.

With diaristic storytelling and a haunting chorus, Emily Sara captures the disorienting space between survival and healing. “Kwik Trip” speaks to anyone who’s hidden grief in plain sight, wondering why the shadows persist even when the relationship has concluded. This poignant track addresses the quiet reckoning that occurs once the worst has already passed. It characterizes the moment you’re left alone with the memories, trying to figure out how to move forward.

Following the release of “Kwik Trip,” we had the privilege of catching up with Emily, and to say that we’re deeply inspired by her heart and perspective would be an understatement. Keep reading for our full conversation with her! 

Image credit: Camille Duvall, graphic created by Karly Ramnani

YOU'LL LOVE EMILY SARA IF YOU LISTEN TO: Gracie Abrams, Lizzy McAlpine, Phoebe Bridgers, Maisie Peters, Julia Michaels, Holly Humberstone, Olivia Dean, Taylor Swift, Lorde

What first sparked the idea for “Kwik Trip”?

“Kwik Trip” is actually a gas station and convenience store chain in the Midwest, so it’s a pretty niche reference. I grew up on the East Coast and had no idea what it was until I moved to Wisconsin for college. People there treat it like a rite of passage. Someone took me for the first time and introduced me to the donuts, and I quickly realized it’s almost a cultural institution. They have all this hot food, donuts, and snacks, and it just becomes a regular stop in daily life.

The idea for the song came from a really specific moment. During my last year of college, which happened to be during COVID, I was living off campus and driving a lot more, so I ended up at Kwik Trip all the time for gas. One night, right after a really difficult realization about a betrayal in my life, I got in my car and scream-cried the entire drive to the gas station. I had never felt rage like that before. The song became a way of capturing that moment and everything that followed—the strange experience of feeling completely shattered but still having to go about your life, run errands, and do ordinary things like stopping for gas.

What drew you to explore that specific post-betrayal emotional space?

Part of it was how intense and complicated the emotions were in that moment. I felt betrayed, but I also felt like I had betrayed myself in some ways. It was like everything I had been holding in suddenly came uncorked all at once. As a songwriter, that kind of emotional unraveling is fascinating to me, and writing the song became a way to process what had happened.

What’s interesting is that the moment the song is based on happened back in 2020, and it took years before I could actually write about it. Sometimes I experience something and can’t put it into words until much later. But that memory stayed with me so strongly that I felt compelled to revisit it. I think a lot of people know what it feels like to sit in your car and let everything hit you at once, and I wanted to capture that release and the emotions that come after.

Why do ordinary moments, such as a late night grocery store run, feel so powerful to you when telling a story through music?

I think it’s because everyone has experienced those kinds of moments. Even if someone hasn’t gone through the exact same situation I’m writing about, we all know what it’s like to be doing something really mundane while feeling something intense underneath the surface. I love that contrast—taking something ordinary, like stopping for gas or running to the store, and placing it in the middle of a heightened emotional moment.

I’m also really inspired by conversational songwriting that grounds you in a specific, relatable scene. Songs that do that make the story feel very vivid and close to you. For example, in “Silk Chiffon” by MUNA, there’s that moment in the CVS aisle that you can picture so clearly. Writing like that makes the artist feel human and accessible, and I love when music captures those small, everyday experiences. It makes the emotions feel more immediate and personal.

The lyric about having “nothing in my stomach but champagne and cheap lies” is such a striking image. Do you remember the moment that lyric came to you?

I actually do remember that moment because the song is such a literal retelling of what happened that night. We had been drinking champagne, and when I was writing the lyrics, I kept thinking about how often you hear the phrase “cheap champagne” in songs. In my case, it wasn’t cheap champagne, but the lies definitely were.

So I flipped the phrase around and landed on “champagne and cheap lies.” It felt more truthful to the situation while still carrying that contrast. In a way, it also captured how I was feeling about the person I was writing about. There was this sense of surface-level glamour, but underneath it all, the honesty just wasn’t there. It ended up being one of my favorite lines in the song because it says a lot in a very simple way.

Image credit: John A. Cybart

The chorus talks about “fighting with shadows you left in my head.” What does that line represent for you emotionally?

For me, that line is about how the emotional aftermath of a relationship can linger long after it’s over. Even when someone is no longer in your life, there are still these “ghosts” of the experience that live in your mind. I found that the feelings were very cyclical. It took years before I truly felt like I was done fighting those shadows, and even now they can still come back from time to time.

In a lot of ways, it felt like I was fighting with myself. There were the memories of the person, but also the parts of myself that had been hurt by the experience, including feelings of betrayal, abandonment, and confusion. By the time I was writing the song, I remember feeling exhausted by it all. I kept thinking I should be past it by now, but those emotions were still there. The “shadows” became a way of describing the lingering impact that the experience had on me.

The bridge introduces almost fairy-tale imagery with the wolf and the forest. What inspired that shift into something more mythic?

A lot of my songwriting is very story-driven. I tend to think about songs in terms of characters and narratives, and I often write from the perspective of female characters. With this song, I found myself drawing from imagery that reminded me of Little Red Riding Hood. It felt like this story of someone who walks into the woods with an open heart, trusting the path they’re on, only to realize there was danger there all along. I’ve always loved fairy tales and mythology, especially the stories that get passed down over time as a way of warning people about the “wolf on the path.”

That imagery also reflected how the experience itself felt to me. At the time, it was almost surreal, like being stuck in a bad dream where you’re not sure which way is up or how you got there in the first place. I wanted the bridge to capture that sense of disorientation. Even musically, the song was written to feel a little claustrophobic, almost like you’re running out of breath while listening to it. My producer and I worked a lot on creating that atmosphere so the storytelling and the sound would mirror that feeling of being caught in something you can’t easily escape.

When you're writing songs like this, do you think more in terms of setting and imagery, or emotions and feelings first?

For me, those things usually come together at the same time. Emotions are really rooted in imagery and setting, so when I feel something strongly, I almost always see a visual alongside it. I’m a very visual person, so when I start writing a song, there’s often a whole scene playing out in my head while I’m working on the music.

With this song in particular, the imagery and the emotion were there from the very beginning and stayed pretty consistent through the entire writing process. Sometimes a song will evolve and end in a slightly different emotional place than where it started, but I usually begin with a very clear sense of how it feels and what it looks like. It’s almost like I can see the colors and the atmosphere of the song behind my eyes while I’m building it sonically.

If “Kwik Trip” had a visual aesthetic or mood board, what kinds of imagery would be part of it?

There’s definitely a darker side to the imagery that inspired the song. I picture things like shadowy wolf shapes, forest paths winding through the dark, and that feeling of moving toward a faint light in the distance without being completely sure where it leads. There’s also this image of something that looks beautiful and inviting from far away, almost like a kingdom hidden in mist, but when you get closer it feels sharper and more unsettling. That was the more mythic world that lived in my head when I first imagined the song.

At the same time, that imagery eventually blended with more modern visuals, like late night drives and crying in the car while a song plays. The color palette for the song is actually very pink and sparkly, which represents the shift toward empowerment by the end. Even though the story begins in a darker place, I wanted it to feel like there’s still a sense of resilience and hope. I love songs that feel like crying on the dance floor. They might start sad, but by the end you feel like the person telling the story is going to be okay.

Image credit: John A. Cybart

Did “Kwik Trip” come together quickly once you started writing, or was it a song that evolved over time?

This one definitely took time. I actually tried to start writing this song every year after the experience happened, but it never quite felt right. It ended up taking about five years before I finally figured out how to tell the story in a way that felt honest. Sometimes songs work like that. They need distance before you can really process the emotions behind them.

Other songs come together much faster. My last single, “Lazy,” happened almost instantly, while this one felt more like a “soul song” that needed time and reflection. A lot of the songs on my last EP also took years to write because they were tied to the same experience. “Kwik Trip” almost feels like the closing chapter of that period for me. Some emotions take longer to unpack, especially when you’re pulling them up from something you’ve spent years trying to move past.

Artists like Maisie Peters and Julia Michaels are mentioned as influences for “Kwik Trip.” What aspects of their songwriting resonate with you the most?

What I love about both of them is how story-driven and emotionally raw their songwriting is. They’re incredible lyricists, but they also write really strong pop songs. Julia Michaels is one of my writing heroes because she has such a gift for pairing vulnerable, sometimes heartbreaking lyrics with a big pop sound. That contrast of a driving beat with something emotionally heavy really resonates with me.

Maisie Peters brings a slightly more indie edge, but she has the same ability to tell really vivid stories through her lyrics. Songs like “You You You” were definitely in my head while I was writing “Kwik Trip.” I was also listening to Julia Michaels songs like “No Heartbreak’s Killed Me Yet” and “Issues” for inspiration. Artists like that show how you can create music that’s emotional and honest while still being fun to listen to, and that balance is something I’m always striving for in my own songs.

In what ways did your classical vocal training lend itself to the genre-bending style you’ve adopted over the years?

Classical training gave me the foundation for my voice. I spent years studying and building that technique, and now I’m also a vocal coach, so that background is a big part of how I approach music. At a certain point, I realized I had spent so much time developing my voice that the next question became what I actually wanted to say with it. Now my music focuses on telling those stories, especially stories about women and our experiences.

I also consider myself a vocalist and songwriter first, so the voice naturally leads everything else in my music. Pulling from different styles has helped me shape my own sound because every genre brings something different. I’ve studied and performed in opera, jazz, pop, and musical theater, and each one gave me tools I can draw from now. Exploring those styles helped me figure out what feels authentic to me as an artist, and that’s something I try to encourage with my students as they discover their own voices.

Your music often explores vulnerability and resilience. What does reclaiming power through vulnerability mean to you as an artist?

I think putting your art out into the world is inherently vulnerable, but that vulnerability can also be incredibly powerful. For me, a big part of my personal journey has been learning that openness and honesty don’t make you weaker—they actually allow you to take ownership of your story.

As a woman especially, it can feel like you’re expected to build armor just to be heard or taken seriously. For me, reclaiming power through vulnerability means allowing myself to stay soft and authentic instead of hiding behind that armor. I try to bring that perspective into my music by being very honest about my emotions and experiences. Strength doesn’t have to mean shutting those feelings down. Sometimes it means standing firmly in who you are while still allowing yourself to feel everything.

Image credit: John A. Cybart

You’ve previously shared that you draw inspiration from your Middle Eastern heritage and lived experiences when writing songs. In what ways has your cultural background and upbringing impacted your artistry?

I think everyone’s upbringing shapes their artistry in some way, whether they realize it or not. Even something like growing up in the Midwest creates a very specific perspective that naturally shows up in your work. For me, I started writing music during a time when I felt really disconnected from my Middle Eastern roots. I was living in Wisconsin and felt pretty isolated from that side of myself, but at the same time it was also the beginning of rediscovering and embracing that part of my identity.

I’m Iranian, and I grew up very close to that side of my family, so those cultural roots run deep for me. Being a first-generation American and having a family who can’t easily return to the country they were born in is a big part of how I see the world. That experience naturally finds its way into my storytelling. Persian culture also has a strong tradition of storytelling and oral history, and many families are very matriarchal. The women in my family, especially my great-grandmother, were incredibly strong and really led the family, and I think that’s where a lot of my own feminism comes from.

My first EP, Mismatch, was an exploration of that feeling of not quite fitting in as a Middle Eastern woman growing up in the Midwest. Writing those songs helped me figure out where I stood and how I wanted to express that part of myself through music. My sound has evolved since then, but that project was really the starting point for understanding myself as an artist.

Finally, the P&P classic: what’s a lyric from “Kwik Trip” that really stands out to you? Walk us through the process of writing it and how it speaks to you personally.

There are a lot of lyrics in this song that I’m proud of because I spent a long time fine-tuning them. The line about “champagne and cheap lies” is one people often point out, but my personal favorite is from the second verse: “You wouldn’t know a good thing if it bit you in the ass.”

That line was actually one of the first things that came to me when I sat down to write the song, and it never changed. It came out immediately and captured exactly what I wanted to say. The lyrics around it talk about building a life filled with real love, even if someone once mocked that dream. In that moment, it felt empowering to acknowledge that they had something good and didn’t recognize it.

I also like that the line brings a little humor into a pretty emotional song. I can sometimes overthink lyrics and spend months searching for the perfect word, but that one came out naturally and felt right from the start. I kept it exactly as it was, and I’m really proud of that because it feels very true to my voice as a songwriter.

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Borrowing elements from cinematic pop, folk, R&B, and more, Emily Sara keeps cementing her place as one to watch in the indie space with every release. In “Kwik Trip,” she reminds us that some of the most powerful stories live in the small, everyday moments we often overlook. Her ability to balance vulnerability with strength makes “Kwik Trip” both deeply personal and universally relatable at the same time. As Emily’s star continues to rise, it’s clear that her raw, vivid storytelling will keep resonating with listeners who find pieces of their own experiences in her music. Here’s a playlist we’ve put together to capture her world!