The overnight success that took years: comics, musicians and creators on the long road
Jo Koy describes a long road of false starts, Benny Blanco a long road to his breakthrough song, Joey Diaz comedy's long road, Rick Springfield the long road to Jessie's Girl, Josh Richards four years of grinding that looked like an overnight blow-up, Jesse Cole a decade of experiments and debt before Banana Ball worked, and Ali Siddiq a career built organically. Seeing how long the unseen stretch usually lasts helps people judge their own progress by a realistic clock and not by the moment the public noticed.
An overnight success usually took years that nobody saw, and often decades. In these conversations, the people who lasted kept showing up, took small and unglamorous chances, studied the craft, and judged themselves by the work and not by the moment the public noticed.
Jo Koy started stand-up in 1989 and thought he had made it several times before he had. About five years in he was booked for a week of shows, called his father to say it was happening, and then nothing happened. He says he never said no to a gig, and when Netflix passed on him he shot the special himself.
Benny Blanco, a songwriter and producer, insists he has no special talent, only the habit of turning up. His first hit as an artist took almost two years of near-misses, and his summary is "you can't fail if you don't quit". Rick Springfield had his first American hit in 1972, and by 1980 had made four albums that went nowhere, before Jessie's Girl. Josh Richards, at 19, corrects anyone who says he blew up overnight: "I put in four years of work". Jesse Cole spent ten years testing ideas with a college summer team, then went over a million dollars in debt, before Banana Ball existed.
Joe Rogan and Joey Diaz remember how slowly stand-up paid, and Rogan says too many people stop too soon. Ali Siddiq was given his specials when he had about 500 Instagram followers. Fighter Israel Adesanya shows the same road in a different trade: he chose to wait before joining the UFC and says he is glad he took his time.
They disagree in places. On talent, Koy does not believe comedy can really be taught, while Blanco says showing up is the whole trick. On luck, Springfield credits it openly and says the job is to work hard enough to be ready when it arrives, while the others describe their rise in terms of what they did. On numbers, Richards calls himself analytical, while Siddiq refuses to chase or inflate his. On saying yes, Koy never said no to a gig, while Cole says his biggest potential downfall would be taking an opportunity for the wrong reasons.
There are limits. It is not a promise: Rogan admits that most people who announce a 200-mile run are wrong. The cost is real, too. Koy missed his son's birthday, and Cole sold his house. And it does not end at the breakthrough. Adesanya felt unexplainably sad for a month after his UFC debut and started therapy. If a low like that does not lift, a professional's help is worth seeking, as it was for him.
What to do with it: reset your clock by setting your progress beside these numbers, and ask what year of that you are in. When a first big win arrives, keep working as if nothing has changed. Say yes to the small, awkward opening while you have little to lose. Pick one thing you want and move it forward a little today, without waiting to feel ready. Test many small ideas and watch when people lose interest. Befriend the people at the door, as Blanco did with interns and the people answering the phones. Measure the process, and if you track numbers, track real ones. And be glad when someone near you breaks through: Diaz's reading is that the line is moving.