Think about your favorite song, book, or movie. Why do you love it so much? Because the ending, the crescendo, the payoff is satisfying. It’s earned.

I’m reading a series right now that’s become one of my all-time favorites, called Throne of Glass. I’m on the seventh of eight books, where each one has been better than the last.

Some people that I’ve told about the series have said that they couldn’t get past the first or second book. I get it. They were a touch slow. But that’s the point.

We live in a world where we want everything to happen now.

The goal is to go viral or become an overnight success instead of doing the work and building something with nobody watching, something that actually has integrity, something that actually matters.

What happens if you go viral? Great, you’re at the top. Now what? You fall—into depression and self-doubt. The success wasn’t earned, and it feels hollow.

Instead of hoping to be an overnight success, the goal should be to actually get good at something—to one day become a master. That takes time. I’m talking decades.

We have to have patience. Patience is trust. Trust that everything doesn’t have to happen now. In fact, it’s better that things unfurl slowly.

When you’re climbing, it’s the incremental steps towards that goal, the wins, the disappointments—the times you think you’re done but you get up in the morning and go just one more time—that make you.

You want to be working hard for many years, as long as you have the courage to continue, so that one day when people discover you, there’s a treasure trove for them to go back and explore, everything you’ve built until this point.

Do the work for a long time with nobody watching so that when they finally are, there’s a world—your world—waiting for them to explore.

I’ve done it with podcasts, with authors, with music; when I find somebody I like, I go back and listen, read, or watch all their stuff, and I’m so happy when there’s a lot of it.

Keep going in the shadows—it’s better that nobody cares. Keep pushing against your inner walls and earn the skill, the recognition, the success.

When you finally get there, none of the external validation will matter anymore because with wisdom, you see it was never the point.

The point was getting better in ways that only you could understand.

Maybe you shave a second off your 1,500 meter swim, a second that took years of grueling work. You execute a sauce flawlessly in the kitchen, or finally understand the nuances of shooting in black and white, or write a character with subtely, something that took decades of living life and being around people to pull off.

And let me tell you, that’s satisfying.

The only thing that matters is to feel yourself rising. Because to get better at something, to go from a novice to a veteran in years, decades—that’s the gift. That’s the reward. That’s happiness.

Just keep your eye on the prize. Play the long game. Keep watering those seeds day after day, taking pleasure in each stage of your garden blooming, and life will be fruitful beyond measure.