The Myth of Overnight Success

We love the legend of the overnight success.

The startup that went from idea to IPO in twelve months. The artist discovered on social media who woke up famous. The story of someone who posted a single video and never had to work a 'normal' job again.

We love them because they are neat. They are easy to digest. They let us believe that if we just stumble onto the right idea, the right moment, or the right connecton, everything will click. That our lives can turn in an instant, and all that goes on in-between; the struggle, the small steps, the years of uncertainty, can be skipped.

But if you scratch beneath the surface of any so-called overnight success, you'll find years, sometimes decades of quiet, invisible work.

I know because I've chased it too.

In my early days, I'd scroll through articles about entrepreneurs who "made it" before thirty. I measured my progress against people whom looked like they came out of nowhere and landed at the top. Every time a friend's business went viral or someone in my circle got that big break, it felt like proof that maybe I was doing something wrong. I started to question my ideas, my pace, my worth. Was I missing some magic formula? Some secret handshake or was I simply not working hard enough?

What I did'nt realise was that success is almost always a long game.

The wins you see are the result of thousands of tiny, unseen, decisons. The late nights tweaking a proposal. The failed product launches no one talks about. The conversations that went nowhere until, years later, they did'nt.

Here the thing: Momentum doesn't announce itself.

It builds in the background while you're too busy doubting yourself to notice. While you’re obsessing over someone else’s highlight reel. While you’re convincing yourself that maybe you’re not cut out for this after all.

I’ve learned that the most important work happens in seasons when no one is watching. When your social media is quiet. When your ideas aren’t quite polished. When the validation is scarce, and the temptation to quit is louder than anything else. Those stretches teach you discipline. They teach you how to work for yourself, not for applause. And ironically, they’re the times that end up mattering the most when the spotlight finally hits.

No one talks enough about the quiet seasons. The seasons of doubt, of doing the same thing repeatedly with no visible payoff. The stretch where you start wondering if it’s foolish to keep going. But those are the seasons that shape you. They teach you resilience. Patience. The kind of grit that isn’t loud or showy, but steady and unshakable.

The truth is, you don’t stumble into success. You build into it.

Slowly. Clumsily. Inconsistently. You do it by showing up on the days you don’t feel inspired. By following through on the things no one will give you credit for. By letting go of shortcuts and gimmicks and choosing the hard, honest work instead. You learn to measure progress by who you're becoming in the process, not just what you’ve achieved.

I’m not against big breaks. I just no longer believe they happen by accident.

When someone seems to come out of nowhere, it’s usually because they’ve been somewhere all along. Grinding in private. Failing in silence. Getting better when no one cared whether they did or not. And I think there’s something beautiful about that.

There’s dignity in the process. Power in the persistence.

Because when you stop chasing overnight success, you start chasing better. And better is sustainable. Better stays when the novelty wears off. Better is what keeps you afloat when everything else feels uncertain.

So if you’re in a season where it feels like nothing’s happening, like you’re falling behind, like everyone else is racing ahead, you’re probably exactly where you’re supposed to be.

Those quiet seasons don’t mean nothing’s working. They mean you’re laying the foundation for what comes next.

Keep building. Keep writing. Keep experimenting. Keep showing up.

The world doesn’t need another overnight success.

It needs people who know how to keep showing up.

And that might just be the most underrated superpower of all.