Someone Worth Believing In

by SongTown Co-founder Marty Dodson

In the beginning, I had plenty of days when I wondered if I was really cut out for songwriting. Not just the normal “this song isn’t working” kind of doubt. I’m talking about the kind that gets down in your bones. The kind that shows up after one too many “almosts.”

Almost got the cut. Almost got the meeting. Almost had the right song at the right time. Almost got noticed. And then… nothing. Those “almosts” can be brutal.

After a crushing disappointment, I would sometimes sink into a little pit of despair and start asking myself dangerous questions. “Am I really good enough?” “Do I have what it takes?” “Am I fooling myself?” “Maybe I’m not cut out for songwriting… or the music business.”

And if that wasn’t enough…

I often fell into the comparison trap. I’d sit in a writing room with someone who played guitar better than I did, sang better than I did, or had more success than I had, and instead of appreciating what they brought to the table, I’d use it as evidence against myself.

“They’re so much better than me.” “They’re further along than I am.” “They belong here. Maybe I don’t.” That kind of thinking will wear you out. It doesn’t make you write better. It doesn’t make you work harder in a healthy way. It doesn’t inspire you. It just slowly drains the confidence out of you until you start walking into every opportunity already defeated.

Then one day, something happened that changed the way I saw it.

A songwriter friend told me that her publisher had said she should just go back to Oklahoma because she would never make it as a songwriter. I was furious. I thought, “What a jerk. Who says that to someone? Who takes a person’s dream and stomps on it like that?” I was mad for her. I couldn’t believe someone in a position of influence would say something so cruel and careless.

And then it hit me. I had been saying the same kind of things to myself. Maybe not in those exact words, but close enough. “You’re not good enough.” “You’ll never catch up.” “You don’t belong here.” “You should probably quit before you embarrass yourself.”

If that publisher was a jerk for saying it to my friend, then I was being a jerk to myself. That realization stopped me in my tracks. From that day forward, I started paying attention to my self-talk. I started challenging it. I started asking, “Would I say this to a friend? Would I say this to another songwriter who was trying hard, learning, growing, and chasing a dream?” The answer was almost always no.

So I began to change the way I talked to myself.

Instead of “I’m not good enough,” I started saying, “I’m getting better.” Instead of “They’re ahead of me,” I started saying, “I can learn from them.” Instead of “I don’t belong in this room,” I started saying, “I earned a seat here, and I’m going to bring what only I can bring.”

And little by little, my whole attitude changed. I became more confident. Not arrogant. Not unrealistic. Just stronger. More grounded. More willing to take chances. More willing to write a bad line on the way to a good one. More willing to walk into a room and contribute instead of apologizing for being there.

And here’s what surprised me:

I started writing better from that confidence. When you stop beating yourself up, you free up energy for creativity. When you stop comparing your weaknesses to someone else’s strengths, you can focus on your own voice. When you stop treating every setback like a verdict on your future, you can actually learn from it and keep going. That shift made a world of difference for me. And yes, I started having success.

Spoiler alert: my friend didn’t go back to Oklahoma. She stayed in Nashville. And the following year, she had three number one songs.

So be careful who you allow to define you. And be especially careful when that voice is your own. Aspiring songwriters, you are going to have hard days. You are going to have “almosts.” You are going to sit in rooms with people who can do things you can’t do yet. That doesn’t mean you don’t belong. It means you’re in the game. Talk to yourself like someone worth believing in. Because you are.

Write on!

Marty