Experiments in Failure
A New Year's Resolution
This article is a few days late. Fail, says a little voice. You failed again. Shortly followed by a more insidious voice that says, You will always fail.
Because I have already failed big. Left a good job to be poorer and less significant. Spent a year being no use to anyone, contributing nothing to the world. And there’s been another recent failing to add to my tally. Just before Christmas I went for a role with a well-known writing school and when I told them my parameters, was told it wouldn’t work, they didn’t want me. It was more of a mutual decision, but it felt personal. I found myself wanting to shift my needs to fit theirs.
The urge to fit the shape of the world’s definition of success is strong in many of us. But when I look back at the last year, the best decisions I’ve made have often felt like failures at the time. Now I look back and think, if that had happened then none of this would have. This ever-shifting world of possibilities I now inhabit. So I didn’t move on my needs to the writing school, and this morning I found myself the recipient of eight new and deliciously varied manuscripts that need an editor to shape them, a prospect that fills me with excitement and purpose. Particularly because I am doing it the hard way: for myself. And I think the writing school will be better off too, with someone who can devote more time and energy. It’s been an excellent experiment in failure.
Let me explain. I have had all the therapies — seriously, every one, from psychoanalysis to EDMR to mindfulness-based group therapy. Each has taught me something. Today I want to talk a bit about CBT (cognitive behavioural therapy). This modality taught me to treat life and my thoughts and feelings about it like an experiment. So with each decision, I make a hypothesis. If I do x, I think x will happen. Then afterwards, I look back at what really happened, imaginary lab coat on. Often the result is very different to my hypothesis, which tells me something. Our minds make up stories all the time, often far more fabulous than the novels we read.
Prior to this morning, my hypothesis about the job I didn’t get was I would start January broke, that I’d spiral into depression again and lose my home. But instead I found myself with a couple of months' steady income, full of excitement. Catastrophising much, Past Katy? But – and now my learning about self-compassion steps in, in the form of a new, kinder voice – that’s OK, it’s understandable given what you’ve been through. You were scared and still you made that decision, so you are brave and resilient.
What have I learnt from my experiment in failure? That potential success lies out there when you fail at something. New, untapped potential you might not have seen because fear was clouding your eyes. That the only way to know what will happen if you make a scary decision is simply to make it.
So here for you, readers, is a new year’s list of failure resolutions to experiment with:
Be late for something. This one hurts, doesn’t it? Which is why it’s worth a try. Whether it’s a manuscript deadline or a meeting, try being late. Do it with kindness but not subservience. Explain why you’re late, apologise, but then notice the effect. Did anything really bad happen? Did it stop you from getting the work done in the end? Fear of disappointing someone runs deep though, doesn’t it? So these days I try to plan ahead and take early intervention. Am I running late on something due in a weeks’ time for reasons out of my control? Then I will tell the author, explain why, and ask for their compassion, reminding myself I would extend them the same compassion.
Do something at 80% effort. Are you doing so much work on your latest project that you’re getting palpitations? Have you stopped sleeping because of it? Then give yourself a break. Step back for an hour, and ask yourself: what does OK look like, rather than perfection? How can you achieve that? Perfection isn’t always needed. Books are a brilliant example: hundreds of thousands of words, all with the potential of being better, and so I used to agonise over every word I edited. But as I moved through my career I realised that most readers don’t read like authors do, or editors. They read quickly and fill in the gaps. And whatever you do there will always be pedants — you can’t stop them and their pesky Amazon reviews. My view is that good storytelling trumps literary perfection every time. This doesn’t just apply to books though. Write a report less well. Send an email with mistakes in it. Learn when to give 100%, and when 80% is good enough.
Leave work at 4pm. This is one for you, office workers. The temptation to stay is strong. But if you are running low and know that you’re not able to operate well enough to do good work, you can leave early. You have the right to make decisions about your own health and life. Again, kindness and compassion; explain why, if you need to. Explain how you’ll cover the work. Or if there’s so much that you can’t possibly leave early this once, the experiment has told you there’s an issue there that needs further exploration.
Ignore the voice that tells you to put someone else’s, particularly a company’s, needs over yours all the time. This mindset is entrenched in our culture. I can’t you tell how much I curse the expectation to go ‘above and beyond’ in order to succeed. Work for free, is what it really means. Recognise what is going on if you are prey to this temptation; hear the voice for what it is. And then with great strength, choose to ignore it, just this once. I find that this has one of two results, both of them useful: one result is that I find I am respected for my decision. This tells me I am working with good people. I want to do the same for them when they are going through times of need. The second result is that my decision isn’t understood or respected. This tells me that unless we can discuss this imbalance and address it, the relationship is not going to work, and I need to find a kind and compassionate way out of it. Sometimes the hardest results tell us the most.
Share your failures. It can be terrifying to tell others how we’ve failed, compounding the feeling of shame. But I remember one boss I had who often talked about her fuck-ups (her words), and I only felt inspired by her. She was human and she made mistakes. It didn’t mean she wasn’t also entirely brilliant. So share your fuck-ups with friends and colleagues, and share them with me and the community here. You can write in the comments below if you’re happy to share your experiences to inspire others.
In this new year, I urge you to experiment with failure. Fail with hope. Fail with compassion. Fail beautifully.
Thank you for your support of me and my little failures. I hope your 2024 is full of peace and joy.
Katy
I love this. I have been reflecting on 'experiments' recently. I used to write a humorous column for many years and it enabled me (a hyper vigilant introvert who would rather be at my laptop than anywhere else) to do loads of things I wouldn't have wanted ordinarily to do because the stakes were so much lower and in fact, I welcomed everything and anything - goes well? Fine. Goes spectacularly cringeably badly? Well that is observational column comedy gold! That sense of self-observation, plus having a sense of humour and self compassion for our human exploits, is such a nicer way to go through life. Trying to be right all the time and trying for everything to go well is just impossible and really hard on ourselves.
Loving your Substack, and loving your journey. A sane voice in the publishing and writing world can feel like a lonely path but it's so very much needed. x
Thank you. What you have written here applies mainly to women, if not damned-near exclusively. I don't intend to man-bash, but as women, we have been conditioned that our needs are a weakness. The more we talk about it, the better we shall all be. Thank you for your candor!