Writing to Failure
The topic of failure rears up from time to time. Something we all face, yet can often try to hide, often I think due to that insidious demon: a sense of shame. Yet, without being willing to fail, we won’t get very far. Every writer has to deal with many kinds of rejection, whether from colleagues giving hard critiques, disappointing course grades, slush readers and editors continually rebuffing our stories, or even negative reader reviews after publication.
I hear people talk about taking risks with writing. I’m often not sure exactly what they mean. For some of us, the risk is simply that our attempt at a story will be horrible. That we won’t finish, or that those we show it to will hate it; that we’ll be laughed at.
Shortly after one of my stories was published – one I was very proud of – I dreamed I became a famous writer–famous for the worst story ever. Everywhere I went, I overheard my name and people talking about my story. But they were laughing at it, saying how very, very terrible it was. Pretty funny, when I woke up, but still!
A friend of mine was told by an instructor that her writing was too ambitious. This made me mad. How could anyone trying to learn to write be “too ambitious”? Aren’t learning institutions places to explore? Maybe she didn’t succeed in what she tried to do, but the point is she tried, and learned from that. Which brings me to the idea of writing to failure.
When I lift weights, I can’t improve unless I lift them to failure – that point where my muscles can’t take any more. If I just lift little weights, the benefit isn’t there. I have to lift heavy weights that get harder as I get more experienced – it never gets easy.
I think writing is the same. We will never learn to write an ambitious story unless we stuff up attempts along the way. We may never even learn the basics. But every story is a chance to learn, whether it works out or not.
Play with plot, play with language, make many, many mistakes. If you love beautiful, lush, evocative prose and attempt it, you may first begin producing very purple writing. But you won’t arrive at those exquisite, crisp images that you love unless you start somewhere. Or, say you’re inspired to want to write like Salman Rushdie, your early attempts may be unintelligible. But you have to feel and learn your way there somehow. And you’ll end up finding your own voice along the way.
If we have fun, wrestle with our words, hear feedback from others without feeling the need to be ashamed, then we can take on board what we need and grow. Not easy sometimes, because of that shame that’s programmed into many of us through the education system from a young age – always being scored, getting good grades being something to be proud of. Attempts that don’t score being covered in red ink, becoming something to hide, rather than celebrated.
Perseverance is working through the pain of failure to get to a goal we have may no guarantee of attaining. So that ‘failure’ is nothing to be ashamed of – it’s just part of the process. Getting up and continuing on, is something to be admired. And, if you decide it’s not for you, that it’s not worth it–there’s no shame in that, either. You’ve tried and learned something about yourself, and are likely richer for it. That’s part of being human.
