Let’s talk about failing.
Remember Adam Baker, producer of the documentary I’m Fine, Thanks? (The movie, incidentally, has now reached its funding goals, hooray!) He had this to say about how people overcome falling into complacency:
“They started to become comfortable being able to fail. I don’t mean they LIKED failing. Or even tried to fail. But they were o.k. with that being part of the process. Often, the desire NOT to fail was what kept people trapped for decades!”
How often do we hold ourselves back because we’re afraid to fail? Maybe people won’t like our final product (or us, heaven forbid). Maybe people will say no to us. Maybe people won’t buy our book, or listen to our songs, or even know we exist, even when we’ve given it our best shot. Maybe we’ll sound stupid. Maybe we’ll realize a major flaw only after our idea/plan/creative work has already been made public. Maybe maybe maybe.
So in order to protect ourselves from all those maybes, those things that might happen in the future, we fail before we even start, by not allowing ourselves to start (or finish). In this way we can preserve some illusion of perfection, of possibility, of “I could have done this if I’d really wanted to.” Some of us have been taught that failure is an unacceptable and unendurable sort of experience, and thus, we protect ourselves from the imagined agony it will cause.
Except. Failure only has the power over us that we grant it. Failure only causes us agonies if we allow it to do so. When we reframe failure to be okay, to be a learning experience, perhaps even a way of being able to tell that we’re saying yes to our own potential, then it loses its power to wound so deeply.
Even in the hero’s journey, the hero fails before succeeding.
“Boldness is genius.” I read this post by Sarah Peck recently, and it suits my current frame of mind (I even gave a spirited live reading of it, which I wish I had video of so we could laugh about it together). I’ve been trying to be more bold lately. And you know what has mostly happened?
I’ve failed. A lot more than usual. Things have fallen through. People have told me no. Vast quantities of uncertainty have wrapped their tendrils throughout my life. I’ve miscalculated the risks involved. I’ve been disappointed and frustrated. Sometimes I have a sensation not unlike banging my head repeatedly against a hard object.
But you know what? Failure? It’s not so bad. I haven’t disintegrated into a pile of green goo. My sense of self worth still exists. Sure, I don’t particularly enjoy being disappointed or frustrated, but I’m pretty sure I’d feel those emotions no matter what, and this way I’m not giving them power over me in the same way. I feel frustrated? Let’s try something new, take a break from whatever is getting under my skin. I feel disappointed? I’ll only dwell on it until I try the next thing. And if I’m being bold, that means I’m trying the next new thing a lot sooner.
The idea that failure always equals disaster is just plain wrong. Boldness IS genius. Comfort with failure unlocks many doors. And allowing ourselves to separate from all those crippling maybes is freedom.
How are you going to be bold this week?
The Practical Free Spirit 
how do you grow if you don’t fall?
Exactly. 🙂
I find that the ability to accept and allow failure depends on what is at stake. It’s easy to fail at writing a particular story, for instance. Nobody has to read the results. If, however, you’re building a website for a Fortune 500 company, failure could mean the complete destruction of your career. Not exactly an option. So boldness is tempered with the stakes. And I think that’s okay. Most of us can afford to be bold as hell when it comes to our personal creative pursuits.
That is really interesting. I agree that it’s easier to think about this in terms of artistic work and entrepreneurial projects. But on the flip side, I’ve noticed that sometimes being too cautious can lead to failure even more than being bold, even in big corporations. For example, if an executive refuses to develop an exciting enough vision, if a company refuses to innovate and loses market share to companies who will, etc. And often projects within big corporations have some in-between sort of mode–not complete success but also not total failure.
But there is also failure that reads like incompetence, and I imagine that is much harder to recover from.
True enough, all said above. I expect the value of failing and taking risks is something game theory addresses, but I’ve never been able to find the topic very interesting.
And I certainly don’t advocate taking huge risks that could mean complete loss of livelihood, loss of life, someone else coming to physical harm,etc. I was thinking more about the failures that don’t set up complete disaster mode in terms of basic needs.
Interestingly, I’ve seen research that suggests that on the whole, humans are pretty bad at making decisions. Which has all kinds of ramifications.
As unlikeable as it might be, the status quo is often a pain that one is used to. Failure is usually a fresh pain and thus hurts far more.
I don’t think you can separate failure from pain. For success to matter emotionally, you have to be emotionally invested. And if you’re emotionally invested enough to care about succeeding then failing will hurt. Too much failure comes as a cost, usually emotional and/or financial. If you fail too much, even if you manage to persevere and eventually succeed, will you merely drag yourself over the finish line simply glad it’s over and too battered to enjoy the fruits of victory?
Which is not to say you shouldn’t try. Failure can be a learning experience, if you can discern a lesson from your failure (sometimes difficult) and learn from your mistakes (many people are bad at this). Take calculated risks and put yourself into a position to succeed.
I would argue, though, that you can be emotionally invested in a project/outcome/what-have-you but not put as much weight on the pain that comes if you fail. I am not talking about failure modes that include death, loss of livelihood with no prospects, serious injury etc. A lot of potential failures in my life don’t cause anything that dire. (The ones that do, I agree that more calculation is important and maybe bold isn’t the way to go.)
I suspect each of us has a different threshold of “failing too much.” But I would think at that point, perhaps it’s a sign that a change of direction is needed. There’s a difference between mindlessly battering yourself against life and repositioning yourself as needed, and no obligation to continue the same failure over and over. But I do notice that in my life, at least (small sample set there, to be sure), fear of failure tends to hold me back more than I need to be held and I tend to overestimate the amount of pain failure will cause me.
I entirely agree. I think a lot of the best art comes from riding the mistakes, and we woundn’t make those mistakes if we didn’t try to do things–particularly things that stretch us.
I wonder if this is particularly true when you’re still on a steep learning curve as an artist. Guess I’ll find out in a decade or two! 🙂
I love this!! Saw this pop up and I’m a HUGE FAN of being bold and trying things. 🙂 Keep it up!
Thanks! Your blog post inspired me. 🙂
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