Writing Is Made of Failure (And That’s Okay)

You can fail on a sen­tence, para­graph, page, scene, and story level.  You can fail a mil­lion ways in writ­ing, and most likely, you’ll fail in 999,999 of them of the course of your attempts.   So it is with many things in which we seek improve­ment.  We fail, fail, fail, and get incre­men­tally bet­ter with time and effort.

I strug­gle with accept­ing the fail­ure.  I have worked in cor­po­rate envi­ron­ments where fail­ure was not an option.  You could eas­ily be fired for  fail­ure.  Once, I was threat­ened with imme­di­ate fir­ing for allow­ing a typo to appear on a web page. (Later I was laid off).   

In my small busi­ness, I can­not afford to fail right now, and nor can my clients afford to have me fail.   I was just lis­ten­ing to the radio about how a major soft­ware upgrade for the state went mil­lions over bud­get and was delayed an entire year.   I might never work again if that hap­pened on one of my projects.  No room for that.  One bad project, and I’m des­ti­tute.  This year more than last, I’m in a tight spot.  This means I tend to turn down projects that I am not 100% cer­tain about (not sure about tech­ni­cal require­ments, the bud­get, etc). Sometimes, this means turn­ing down thou­sands of dol­lars.  But what’s worse, to turn down the money and tighten belts, or to take the money and utterly fail the client by miss­ing dead­lines, or deliv­er­ing com­pletely buggy soft­ware?  I’d rather keep the pain of that lim­ited to myself, and not ruin some­one else’s dream in the process.

It’s this issue of fail­ure in my jobs that pay and have paid that bills that makes me so hard on myself when I fail at writ­ing.  Because I sac­ri­fice busi­ness time to do the writ­ing, and the fact that I can­not pro­duce pro­fes­sional, sal­able mate­r­ial with any­thing resem­bling con­sis­tency or reg­u­lar­ity makes that time essen­tially a waste from an income stand­point.  I love doing it, but writ­ing is very costly to me.  It costs time and lost income.   So it’s dou­bly hard to real­ize that I’ve pro­duced a failed story, or novel.  Efficiency is key when time is money.  And I’m try­ing to be effi­cient enough to jus­tify the time.

It’s all vaguely ridicu­lous, to attempt to man­age your cre­ative writ­ing work the same way you try to man­age your web devel­op­ment work. But for now, I just don’t have any other option.   Hence back­ing off of writ­ing again, at least until I know where I will be liv­ing in August.  Hopefully not in a parent’s basement.

If you can afford it, give your­self the gift of fail­ure.   You’re going to do it any­way, so you might as well learn to for­give it.  I’m try­ing to do that myself.

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    1. Sherry says:

      I know what you’re say­ing when it comes to putting food on the table and the roof over­head, but I wanted to share this, which has been on my writ­ing desk since day one: “Always try. The defeat from fail­ure is never as dis­heart­en­ing as the fail­ure to attempt.” You’ll go back to the writ­ing when you can because it’s what makes you happy, even if you feel you “fail” occa­sion­ally. And if you’re writ­ing, even a lit­tle, you’re prob­a­bly doing every­thing else bet­ter, too. Good luck. :)

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