Hard Stretch

October 10, 2025


There is a time in every artist’s journey that feels like walking through a desert, no signs, no milestones, just long, unremarkable days that stretch out into one another. It comes after the initial sparks of success, after the first shows, the first sales, the early moments of validation that suggest you're on the right path. And then suddenly, almost without warning, it quiets. The phone doesn’t ring, the inbox is still, social media feels like shouting into the void. You’re still working, still making, still showing up, but nothing seems to be moving. This is the hard stretch.

It’s the part no one prepares you for. The romantic notion of the starving artist doesn’t quite cover the emotional weight of continued effort met with silence. The real challenge isn’t in being unknown, it’s in feeling forgotten. You pour yourself into the work with the same devotion, maybe more, but the world isn’t meeting you where it used to. Sales slow down. Opportunities stall. Even your own enthusiasm can begin to flicker under the weight of repetition and doubt. And the worst part is how invisible this season is to others. From the outside, it just looks like you’re doing what you’ve always done, painting, writing, building. But inside, it’s a quiet war with the feeling that maybe none of it matters.

But it does. This stretch, this long, dry, disorienting stretch, is not dead time. It’s not failure. It’s not a sign that you’ve lost your edge. It’s the part of the journey that actually makes you into an artist. Because it’s here, in the absence of external validation, that you learn what you're really made of. It’s easy to keep going when the rewards are visible. It’s something else entirely to keep going when they’re not. When the only thing you can rely on is your own sense of purpose. Your belief in the work. Your trust that this, too, is part of the process.

The hard stretch is where you develop discipline without applause. Where you keep faith without feedback. Where you refine not only your skill but your resilience. Every day that you show up despite the silence is a day that strengthens your foundation. You’re not just making art anymore, you’re becoming the kind of person who can weather the storms, the lulls, the doubts. And that, more than any burst of early success, is what sustains a long creative life.

Because this season won’t last forever. It never does. But when the momentum returns, and it will, you’ll meet it with a depth and a steadiness that only comes from having walked through this stretch without quitting. That quiet persistence will be in your work. People may not see it, but they’ll feel it. And you’ll know, deep down, that you didn’t just survive the hard stretch, you were shaped by it. And now, nothing can shake you.