F.A.I.L.

Fall and Invite Loss. The best piece of advice I never got was to fail and to fail constantly. Lessons I could’ve learned in my adolescence evaded me because I wanted to stay in my shell. I didn’t go through the same experiences as my peers because I was so shy and preferred to stay out of things and be more of an observer. While my friends had jobs in high school and were able to buy the clothes they wanted to wear, which our parents couldn’t afford, I was constantly told I didn’t have to work. My parents just wanted me to focus on schoolwork and be a kid. I wasn’t an athlete either and never played sports, so I didn’t learn work ethic and the process of getting better at something through that avenue either. What I did see was my dad go to work every day and provide for us, even having to miss events because of his work schedule, so that’s where I learned what work ethic looked like.

However, without many experiences or examples to turn to, I had to learn the hard way that failing is part of the process; it’s a painful paradox, but if you don’t take some scrapes as you strive to perfect the thing you’re working on, you’ll never get good at it. I remember the day I first got the idea that I wanted to become a writer. I was in the 6th grade and we were assigned book reports that were to be completed in these blank books my teacher bought each of my classmates. I couldn’t wait to get my hands on my own copy. When that day finally arrived, I took the empty book to my room and held it carefully in my hands like a Bible. Out of nowhere, a tiny voice in the back of my head whispered, “I can’t wait for my own words to be written here.” And just like that, I was enthralled by the idea of becoming a creative writer. I fell in love with reading in the first grade and took chapter books with me everywhere I went, so it wasn’t a far-fetched idea that I wanted to become an author. It just took me a long time to learn about the structure of a novel in order to write one.     

I think because the only experience I’d had was being a student (and a hard-working one at that), I thought it would be so easy to write anything and get it published. Ha! Armed with the doctrine that all I needed to do to become successful was memorize facts, dates, and formulas, I assumed the road to becoming a published author would be as easy as catching a snowflake. That’s why in college I set a goal: I’d write a book and finish it in time for graduation. Because I was so determined on having a book to publish, I spared no time putting any actual practice into plotting, outlining, rewriting, editing, rewriting again, editing again…you get it. While I met my ambitious goal of having a “finished” manuscript the summer of 2011, it wasn’t exactly an accomplishment. In fact, it was a straight up failure. You could guess what happened after I submitted that shoddy draft of a manuscript. Day after day, rejection letters arrived in my mailbox thinly veiled as assurances that, unfortunately, at the time of my request there was simply no room for my book. It didn’t matter how polite the note was written, it didn’t change the fact that my book was being rejected. I was being rejected.  Dejected, I threw the nays from literary agents into the trash and decided I was no good. Just like that I quit on my goal. It would be years before I put pen to paper again.

When I decided to start a blog, I chose the topic of failure as the introductory post because it’s been one of the most important lessons I’ve learned. I know now that you’re not going to avoid getting it wrong in the beginning; you’re just not supposed to quit. I had no way of knowing that until I started writing my fiction pieces, having no real hobbies before that. I’ve experienced now that when you do want to quit because you’re not seeing the results you want, you really have to ask yourself why you’re doing something in the first place. I’ve had to have many of those conversations with myself when I’ve wanted to stop writing because I thought I was no good. When you’re doing something for yourself and it brings you joy and purpose, there’s really no reason to stop.

This is the best piece of advice I ever heard: Don’t think about the finished project, enjoy the process. I think this is very true. The pressure dissipates when you’re excitedly plotting that book you’re writing; composing that song with the melody that’s been stuck in your head; choreographing those dance moves you’ve been practicing in front of the mirror. As you learn to master whatever craft you’re attempting, invite those losses that are going to be the stepping stones in your journey towards self-actualization. When you focus simply on the process of creating and improving, you can never lose.