Why patience is the alchemy of the creative practice

Patience = Confidence in 2026

Note: This will be my last post of the year. Thank you for being part of The Resilient Creative community.

As we close out the year, we are often asked to reflect on accomplishments, but this is not always what feeds us. Whether you are celebrating this season or finding yourself in a space of change and transition, I wanted to invite you to think instead about something sacred to creativity: patience.

Often, especially if you live in the world of creativity, the accomplishments are not the thing to celebrate. The intention-based action is. The activity is.

We can’t force the flower to bloom. We can’t make water boil. We can’t [insert your cliche]. We can, however, get good at the art of patience.

Let’s focus on the exhilaration of the practice itself.

Photo by Zachary-Chaz McMurdie

Over the years, I’ve realized how most of my questionable decisions in my creative life resulted from a lack of patience. I had yet to cultivate it (some days I still struggle), and it’s not impulsivity so much as it that I didn’t trust tomorrow.

Those of us who know the pain of limitation want to avoid it in the future. I knew limitation better than anyone, I believed, and I envisioned it everywhere. I thought the best way forward was to move quickly and get all I could today, because tomorrow wasn’t guaranteed.

If you think this way creatively, you might be selling yourself short.

My experience with this type of thinking in daily life is humbling to admit. I remember a time that I didn’t trust myself or the world enough to believe in a better option than whatever was in front of me: the Newport King, the bottle of wine, the unfortunate relationship, the immediate gratification of sending a work out before it was ready, the impulse to avoid confrontation or not ask the potentially silly questions … the belief that this, right here, is the best I can do.

We can do more with your life and creative work than we can imagine.

And what I think often gets confused is that we can both trust and live in the moment at the same time. There is no way to only focus on the exhale, if we don’t trust the inhale is coming.

As artists and writers, investing in our craft doesn’t just mean going to a million workshops, it means implementing the learnings we’ve amassed over our lifetimes. It doesn’t just mean writing a draft, it means writing six or sixteen drafts.

“Two things define you: Your patience when you have nothing and your attitude when you have everything.” —George Bernard Shaw

We can trust that the hard work is worth it, even if there is no tomorrow … because we’re doing the best we can.

I am practicing patience now because I am more confident than I’ve ever been, not so much in my talent or ability but in my willingness to grow. But, like anything, it is a practice.

Prompt: This one’s personal. Even if you’re generally a patient person, where are you impatient with your writing or art?

If you find patience to be a superpower, give yourself gratitude as we move into the new year. Carry that forward. But, if, like me, you still detect any impatience (perhaps in revision; perhaps being quick to post, then wishing you didn’t; perhaps not thinking the concept all the way through; perhaps avoiding writing because you’re thinking too much about all the things), set out to trust yourself a little more in the new year. I promise it will be worth it.

So again, as we close out the year, let’s nod toward our accomplishments, but let’s also explore what we’re in the middle of and how we can trust and invest a little more in the process itself.

Wishing you all good things as we close out the year!

(Psst: If you enjoyed this post, please like, share, and comment. It helps immensely. In gratitude for all who support my writing, paid subscribers are invited to join me for a little creative gift exchange here. I’ll be back here to welcome in the new year with a meditation offering and a new year-long creative challenge.)

xo Jen

Get messy with it, writers