Why Most Writers Fail (And How I Beat the Odds)

I would have quit without this advice

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Most writers have the staying power of a free gym membership in January.

You know the type—January 1st, they’re sprinting on the treadmill of ambition. By March? Ghosted by the gym and their Google Docs.

I started writing two years ago. Same time as a bunch of others. Today? I’m still here. Most of them? Not so much. Vanished like a motivational quote after a bad day.

Here’s what that taught me:

If you stick around, you’ll automatically land in the top 5%. The bad news? Sticking around is tougher than it sounds.

I’ve been there too. Feeling invisible. Wondering if I was just yelling into the void. But once I understood the 3 emotional stages of this journey, something clicked. I finally knew how to keep going.

Now? 26,000 follow my words. But trust me—it didn’t start that way.

Here’s what got me through.

1. The Start: you’re high on hope (and maybe caffeine)

You begin because you just know you’ve got something.

The creative juices are flowing, the endorphins are dancing, and you’re convinced you’re about to change the world—or at least blow a few minds on the internet.

It’s an exciting time. You’re full of optimism, blissfully unaware that this journey is less "overnight success" and more "slow-cooked stew."

In those early days, I didn’t care that barely anyone was reading my stuff:

• Month 1: 6 readers (3 of whom were probably me, double-checking for typos)

• Month 2: 10 readers

• Month 3: 90 readers

But honestly? I was loving it. I was knee-deep in the joy of creating. The numbers didn’t matter. I was fueled by blind belief—and that’s a beautiful thing. It gets you moving before the doubts have time to move in.

But then, inevitably… reality knocks.

And it doesn’t knock politely—it kicks the door down.

That’s when things get really, really tough.

2. The Dip: reality slaps you in the face (and doesn’t even say sorry)

After the honeymoon phase wears off, you hit The Wall.

Anyone who’s ever started a business, trained for a marathon, or braved the wilds of dating apps knows the feeling. That gut-punch moment when you think:

“Okay, I knew this would be hard… but I didn’t know it’d be like fighting a bear in a fog.”

Three months in, I was over the novelty of “Yay, I wrote something!” I didn’t want participation trophies. I wanted readers. Ideally ones who shared, commented, and maybe even paid me.

So I went all in. I hoovered up every writing tip, trick, and headline formula I could find. I fine-tuned my intros like I was prepping them for a TED Talk. My stats went up… a little. But not enough.

Cue: existential spiral.

I felt like I was pouring my soul into a black hole. And this is where most people quit.

But I noticed something: the writers I looked up to? They all talked about this stage. They described it as brutal, discouraging, and downright depressing. But they also shared what got them through.

Turns out, blind optimism doesn’t cut it here. You need strategy. You need tiny flashlights of hope to guide you through the dark.

Here are the 3 that helped me the most:

Do the math. Trust the process.

When motivation dipped, I turned to cold, hard numbers. (Weirdly comforting, like a spreadsheet with a hug.)

At 6 months, I had 461 followers and was gaining 136 per month—a 29% monthly increase. At that rate, I calculated I’d pass 2,000 in another 6 months.

That future-me vision? Total lifeline. Math became my motivational coach. And unlike some coaches, it didn’t yell at me.

Find a guru who tells the truth

Don’t follow the shiny “10K in 10 days” crowd. Follow the people who are real about how hard this is.

For me, Eve Arnold was that person. She writes part-time, makes solid money, and doesn’t sugarcoat the grind. One of her gems? “Write for 2.5 years before anything happens.”

Brutal honesty. But also, deeply motivating. Because if the struggle is normal, it means you’re normal too.

Master the craft, not the outcome

Chasing results you can’t control? Fast track to burnout city.

Instead, get better. Sharpen your skills. Work on the stuff you can influence.

I created a weekly system to track improvements—tiny tweaks, over time, that made a massive difference. I even built a guide for it (because yes, I’m that person now).

And for the love of sanity: stop bingeing advice content. Pick 3 tips. Use them. Absorb them. Then go get 3 more. Do that for 6 months and you’ll be the writer your past self dreamed of.

These 3 strategies won’t make the dip disappear. But they’ll help you hold the line until the sun comes up again.

3. The Hope: you finally see the light (and it’s not a train)

After about 8 months of grinding, doubting, and refreshing my stats like a nervous stockbroker—I got my first ghostwriting contract.

Cue internal fireworks, happy tears, and one very dramatic victory walk around the kitchen.

That moment changed everything. It was the first real proof that all those hours, all that effort, actually meant something. And once you get a taste of that, motivation doesn’t just return—it explodes.

I felt unstoppable. Not in a “quit your job and buy a yacht” kind of way—more like, “Hey, maybe I’m not terrible at this after all.”

By month 10? I landed a magazine contract.

Suddenly, the thing I was slogging away at in obscurity became something people wanted to pay me for. Wild, right?

This stage is like sunlight after a long winter. You feel it in your bones. The hope is real now—not blind or naïve, but earned. And with it comes a second wind, a deeper belief, and a whole lot more writing.

The best part? It’s not the end. It’s just the beginning… but now, you know you can make it.

It’s like pushing a boulder down a hill. At first, it feels like it weighs a thousand pounds and you’re shoving it solo, uphill, in the rain. But once it starts rolling? You’ll be shocked at how fast things pick up.

By Stage 3, even when discouragement taps you on the shoulder, you just shrug it off. You’ve been through too much to be rattled now. I’ve been making $5,000 a month this year. So when I hit a dip a couple of months ago? Meh. I barely blinked. I know what works—and more importantly, I know I work.

Every writer goes through these three stages. From blind optimism to soul-crushing despair to battle-tested, realistic hope. And if others can make it through?

You can too.

Derek

P.S. Overloaded with advice but still stuck? The Starter Kit gives you a clear plan to start writing—and keep going—without the overwhelm.

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