The Art of Discomfort (Inspiration is Overrated)

Every time I attend a writer’s conference, I do what every other writer secretly does: I study the keynote speaker like a lab specimen. What exactly makes them successful?

Talent and commitment to the craft, for sure. Good timing and a sprinkling of good luck, too. But the word that keeps surfacing—whether I’m listening to a debut novelist or a bestselling veteran—is tenacity. Basically, that unglamorous, muscle-twitching refusal to quit when your draft is making you nuts or the publishing industry is driving you up the wall.

Tenacity, Reframed

I’m working on a novel right now, which means I’m also working on my patience, humility, and caffeine tolerance. Since this isn't my first rodeo, I’ve learned to push through the bad days, knowing the good ones, when the inspiration actually shows up, are right around the corner. But it took years to learn that truth the hard way.

In the past, whenever I worked on a personal project like this, I would only write when I felt inspired or when it was fun. I thought creativity was supposed to feel good, that good work flowed from a good mood. Turns out, that’s not only inefficient; it’s a recipe for never finishing anything.

In all honesty, I don't usually look this sanguine while writing in the middle of the night...

Recently, best-selling author Leigh Bardugo put a name to what tenacity really feels like: discomfort. I recently came across her TED Talk, “The Art of Discomfort,” in which Bardugo opens with a familiar truth: a lot of people out there want to write a book, but few ever finish. Not because they lack imagination or skill, but because they can’t tolerate how messy the process feels.

In other words, discomfort is not the enemy. It’s actually the raw material that great ideas are made of, if you're willing to put in the hard work.

Our culture doesn’t help. We love the highlight reel: the movie montage where the artist gets inspired, types furiously, and suddenly produces a masterpiece. Or the social media post that shows a perfect finished product with no trace of the messy, awkward process behind it. We see the results, not the rewrites. We’ve been sold the myth that genius doesn’t sweat.

Spoiler: it does. A lot.

Discomfort: The Missing Skill in Our Education

Bardugo calls this missing trait “the ability to tolerate discomfort.” Schools rarely teach it. Workplaces don’t directly reward it. Yet it’s the very skill that separates those who dream from those who finish.

When we mistake discomfort for danger, we retreat too soon. In other words, discomfort isn’t a red flag; it’s a compass. The queasy moment before you tackle a blank page, pitch a new idea, or try a skill you’re not sure you can pull off—that’s the moment you're ready to grow.

Bardugo also reminds us that discomfort doesn’t always feel like a dramatic struggle. Sometimes it looks like quiet persistence: writing a paragraph that feels flat, reworking an idea that refuses to land, or staying curious when you’d rather quit. It’s that tension that keeps the creative muscle growing.

Frustration is not failure but progress in disguise. The moment things stop feeling easy is the moment the brain starts to build something new. Or, as Bardugo puts it, being truly creative “means getting to the top and realizing you’re at the smallest peak of a much larger mountain range.”

What This Means Beyond the Page

No matter your field or the project, it’s not necessarily the gifted ones who find success. It’s the ones who learn to make friends with discomfort. The ones who stop expecting it to feel easy. It’s not about falling in love with the idea; it’s about staying in love when the going gets hard.

We celebrate the “aha” moment but rarely the “ugh” phase that precedes it. Yet that’s where critical thinking, resilience, and original thought live. Creativity is essentially iteration.

So, the next time your project stalls or you hit a wall, try this: don’t run from the discomfort. Acknowledge it. Stay with it. Treat it like an uninvited guest who might actually have something interesting to say.

Because genius doesn’t glide. It grinds, questions, rewrites, and shows up again tomorrow. And that, in the end, is where the real art happens.

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About Jessica L. Walton: Jessica is a communications strategist and writer in the U.S. defense sector. She has written articles on a range of security and mental health topics and conducted interviews with military leadership, CIA officers, law enforcement, psychologists, filmmakers, and more. Read her full bio here.

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