Chasing Ideas Vs. Chasing Truth

By SongTown Co-Founder Marty Dodson

I’ve been in more co-writing rooms than I can count. And over the years, I’ve come to recognize a moment that happens more often than most people would expect—it’s the moment when a subtle creative tug-of-war begins.

If you co-write long enough, you’ll be there too. We’ve all been there. Someone throws out a title they saw on a billboard or thought of in the shower. It’s clever. It’s catchy. It might even be fun to write. But deep down, I feel something else pulling at me—an idea I’ve been carrying around for days. A real story. A truth that stings a little when I say it out loud. Something I believe matters.

And then I have to make a choice.

Do I go along with the shiny idea that’s pure fiction? Or do I speak up and try to bring the room around to the truth that’s burning in my chest? To be honest, I’ve done both. I’ve gone along with the fictional idea and helped shape it into something hooky and clever. And sometimes, it even worked. We ended up with a solid song. Maybe even a cut. But more often than not, those songs don’t stick with me. They don’t rattle around in my soul. They don’t make me feel like I did something meaningful that day.

But the times I’ve managed to share the truth I was carrying? The times I’ve gotten the room to see what I saw—how a real story could reach people, could connect with something universal, could matter? Those are the songs I remember. The ones that felt like they had a purpose. The ones that sometimes even changed someone’s life… starting with mine.

Now, I’m not saying you should walk into every co-write determined to write your personal diary entry. I’ve learned not to force the room into writing something FOR me. That’s not the goal. Co-writing is a dance, not a dictatorship. But I have learned how to make a case for chasing truth. Not just because it’s my truth, but because people connect to songs that come from a real place.

Here’s the thing I often say to my co-writers when I feel a crossroads moment happening:

“If we write something that truly matters to us, it’s going to matter to other people. Maybe even to the right artist.” I’ve seen it happen again and again. The power of truth isn’t just in the raw emotion—it’s in the way it builds trust between the song and the listener. They feel it. They know when something’s honest. And honestly? We live in a world full of noise—memes, distractions, headlines, content overload. Even AI songs. People are craving something real. Something human. Something that reminds them they’re not alone in what they’re feeling.

So, what do I do when that moment comes up in a co-write?

I pause. I listen. And if I truly believe in the deeper truth I’m holding, I make my case. Not in a pushy way, but in a way that invites curiosity: “Hey, what if we chased this angle instead? It’s something I’ve been thinking about a lot, and I think there’s real emotion here.” And then I show them. I give them a glimpse of the story behind it. I connect the dots between the idea and the impact it could have. If I have one, I will even tell a personal story about a time when this song would have mattered to me. Sometimes they go for it. Sometimes they don’t. But either way, I walk away knowing I honored the part of me that’s trying to write songs that mean something. At the end of the day, cleverness might catch someone’s attention—but truth is what keeps them listening.

So the next time you’re in that spot—when the room leans toward a flashy title and your gut is tugging you toward something deeper—ask yourself: Do I want to write something that just sounds cool?
Or do I want to write something that matters? You might be surprised how often your co-writers are craving the same thing… they just need someone brave enough to say it out loud.

Write on,
Marty Dodson