It’s Not Too Late

By SongTown Co-founder Marty Dodson

I once ran across a quote that stopped me in my tracks:

“It’s never too late to be what you might have been.”

That quote helped change my life.

I grew up in Nashville, where music wasn’t just part of the culture. It felt like it was in the air. Everybody seemed to be chasing the dream. The guy fixing our cable wanted to be in the music business. The person working on the air conditioner had a guitar in the truck. It seemed like every waiter and waitress we met had moved to town to become a singer or songwriter.

For a shy kid with no connections, no roadmap, and not much confidence, that was intimidating. To me, the dream of writing songs for a living felt almost ridiculous. It seemed about as realistic as making it to the NBA when you’re “vertically challenged.” I loved songs. I was drawn to them. I wished I could write them for a living. But deep down, I didn’t really believe that dream belonged to someone like me. So I put it aside.

I went to college. I earned a degree in psychology. I ended up working as a youth minister for ten years. Truthfully, I didn’t so much choose that path as keep saying yes to opportunities that came along. One job led to another. I kept moving upward. From the outside, it probably looked like I had a solid, respectable life.

But somewhere inside me, something was unsettled.

In my early thirties, I woke up one day frustrated with myself. I call it my early midlife crisis. I realized I had spent ten years building a career I had never truly chosen, while casually letting go of what had once felt like my dream. That realization hit hard. Then I remembered that quote: “It’s never too late to be what you might have been.”

Something in me shifted. I got honest with myself. Then I got a little angry with myself too. Not in a destructive way, but in the kind of way that wakes you up. I told myself that day I was going to figure out how to become a songwriter, no matter what it took. I didn’t know exactly how it would happen. I just knew I couldn’t keep living with the regret of not trying.

Did it take longer than I imagined? Absolutely. A lot longer. Was it difficult? Stressful? Discouraging at times? More times than I can count. There were moments when the path felt uphill in every direction. Moments when progress was slow. Moments when it would have been easier to quit, go back to what was safe, and tell myself I had been foolish to try. But I’m so grateful I didn’t quit. Because pursuing songwriting changed my life. It brought me joy. It gave me purpose. It connected me to who I really was. And maybe just as importantly, it taught me something I wish every aspiring songwriter could understand:

You cannot compare your journey to someone else’s.

That lesson is a big one. Yes, I wish I had started earlier. I wish I had been brave enough at 18 to go after what I really wanted. I wish I had believed in myself sooner. But wishing for a different timeline doesn’t help. My journey was my journey. And starting in my mid-thirties did not disqualify me from becoming what I was meant to become. It simply meant my road looked different.

Some people start writing songs as teenagers. Some find success in their twenties. Others don’t really begin until much later. At SongTown, we’ve seen plenty of examples of songwriters who began having real success in their fifties, sixties, and even seventies. Think about that.

In a world obsessed with early success, we need that reminder. Creativity does not have an expiration date.

Passion does not age out. The desire to make something meaningful, beautiful, and true is not reserved for the young.

So if songwriting feeds your soul, pay attention to that. If writing songs makes you smile, that matters. If there is still a part of you that lights up when you hear a great lyric, find a melody, or imagine sharing your truth in a song, don’t dismiss that. Don’t tell yourself you missed your shot. Don’t let fear convince you that because you didn’t start when someone else did, you shouldn’t start at all. Start now.

Write the song. Take the lesson. Join the co-write. Share the demo. Learn the craft. Chase the growth. Let yourself be a beginner if that’s where you are. The clock you’re afraid of may not be your enemy after all. It may simply be reminding you that this moment matters.

So here’s what I want to say to every aspiring songwriter who wonders whether it’s too late: It’s not. Not if it still moves you. Not if it still calls to you. Not if there’s still a song in you that wants to be written. Because sometimes the most important thing you can do is stop regretting the years you didn’t start… and start.

Write on!
Marty