You have been disciplined about practising your craft for ages, but you feel like you may be regressing. How do you know if you are actually progressing and improving along the way?

Improvement in writing often feels like increased difficulty. The more time you spend reading and studying, the more your own standards rise and your tolerance for weak sentences drops. As your awareness broadens, your drafts feel more flawed. Instead of feeling like you are improving, at times, you dislike everything you manage to put down simply because your knowledge has expanded and you can see more.

The challenge is learning to tell the difference between writing that is genuinely stagnating and writing that’s maturing, because the two can feel surprisingly similar. This article is about how to know which one you are experiencing and how to recognise your growth even when it is not as apparent.

Why growth often feels uncomfortable

Most skills become easier as you improve them, but writing doesn’t behave that neatly. In the early stages, you write what feels natural. You’re not yet aware of pacing issues, structural problems, gaping potholes, overused phrasing, or unclear arguments. As an amateur, you do not notice those layers, and as a result, you do not feel burdened by them.

Over time, as you read from a writer’s perspective and practice your craft, you learn and grow.

You begin to recognise when an opening lacks tension, and you notice when a paragraph starts to lag. Ironically, that is also when your own writing starts to feel heavier. You are not just writing words down anymore. With each word, it seems like you are making critical choices. You are trying to avoid repetition and catch clichés before they land. You are then aware of the rhythm, clarity and flow.

Awareness actually slows you down. The mistake many writers make at this point is assuming that ease equals competence. So, when writing stops feeling easy, they conclude they must be stagnating or maybe even regressing. When it comes to writing, ease is often a sign of unawareness. Struggle, especially thoughtful struggle, is frequently a sign that you’ve started seeing what stronger writing requires.

The difference between “harder” and “better”

Writing can feel harder for two very different reasons. First, it can feel harder because you may be overthinking every sentence, chasing perfection, or paralysed by comparison. Or it can feel harder because you’re working at a much higher level than before. You may be making deliberate decisions while writing every word, cutting weak sections, restructuring arguments, and paying closer attention to nuances.

If writing is harder because you are doubting every word before it lands, your draft just stalls. When you write without clarity, you can edit and revise the same paragraph ten times without making any progress at all. If writing is harder because you’re improving, the effort produces visible change. You might cut entire paragraphs, or even whole chapters. You might rewrite the opening to your story from scratch. You might move large sections around instead of just polishing sentences. In other words, in this instance, the work evolves.

When you look at a piece after revision, ask yourself: Did I simply worry about it… or did I actually improve it? The changes will.

Signs your writing is improving

If you want to know whether you’re getting better, stop measuring how it feels and start measuring what changes you are making. Here are signs that usually indicate real growth:

You cut more than you add

New writers tend to protect every sentence. As you improve, you become more ruthless as you now value clarity over attachment.

Your revisions are structural

At first, editing often means swapping adjectives or smoothing sentences. As you grow in your craft, you rethink whole sections. You rebuild the whole structure if need be.

You can name what isn’t working

Instead of random, this feels off; you can now pinpoint specific issues. For example, this transition is abrupt. You can make a specific diagnosis.

You tolerate unfinished drafts

Improvement often comes with patience. You no longer panic when a first draft is messy. In fact, you expect it to be rough and messy. You trust that it will get better in subsequent drafts.

You think about the reader more consciously.

You consider how someone else will experience the pacing and the flow. Writing becomes less about expressing yourself and more about communicating with prospective readers.

False signs of improvement

It is important to watch out for the traps. There are things that look like progress but don’t necessarily mean your writing is better.

Writing faster

Speed can improve with practice, but fast writing by itself does not mean improved craft. You can produce more words without producing better ones.

Writing more frequently

Consistency builds habit, which is extremely valuable for aspiring writers. Like speed, frequency also doesn’t guarantee quality.

Using more complex language

A larger vocabulary or longer sentences is not a sign of improved skill. Strong writing is usually clearer and not necessarily heavier.

Publishing more

Getting published is exciting. But getting published depends on various factors like timing, trends, and networks. 

Receiving praise

Compliments feel reassuring, but they aren’t reliable metrics. Some pieces get applause because they resonate emotionally, while some excellent pieces get quiet responses.

Simple self-assessment framework

After finishing and revising a piece, ask yourself:

1. Is this clearer than something I wrote six months ago?

2. Did I fix real problems — or just adjust wording?

3. Can I explain what I improved?

4. Do I recognise my recurring weaknesses more quickly?

5. Does the work feel more intentional?

Notice what’s missing from this list: confidence. Satisfaction. Ease. Those feelings fluctuate wildly. Skill, on the other hand, leaves observable traces.

The Plateau Myth

There’s one last psychological trap to address. Early improvement feels dramatic where you fix obvious grammar mistakes or learn structuring. The gains are obviously visible to you. Slowly, improvement becomes more and more subtle. Your grammar improves, you start writing better sentences and avoid plot holes. You make fewer obvious mistakes, and so you raise standards for yourself. It can feel like you’ve stopped progressing when you’ve moved into refinement mode.

The better you get, the harder it is to notice your own progress since improvements live in nuance.

Beginners often feel confident because they don’t yet see the layers. Intermediate writers feel uncertain because they see them everywhere. Advanced writers are much more deliberate because, with experience, they understand the process better.