Writing and Failure

Yesterday, I failed. I'd been writing three pages everyday for 30 days. Mostly, I was trying to get things in order for the wedding I'm going to officiate on Saturday, but also, I was getting things out of my head, things I was holding onto that weren't really helpful. And, I completed 30 days. My next goal was 100. Then, I just forgot. I forgot to write. Maybe that doesn't seem like a big deal. Maybe you wouldn't call that failure, but it is. I'm not going to give myself a break and say it's all part of the process or that I can do it again. Yes, those things are true, but I think it's important for me to face failure.

I've failed a lot in my short life. People tend not to believe that when they talk to me about what I have done. I have written a lot. I have completed two degrees. I have worked and paid off loans (and gotten new ones, but no one focuses on that). I have worked through a lot of personal and emotional issues. I have faced my demons. But, sometimes, the demons have won.

I've ruined relationships and run out of money and lied to my parents and turned my back on my friends. I've been selfish and cruel and given up. I've simply forgotten that I had things to do. I've canceled on people and overslept and fallen down stairs and missed feeding my dog (only once). And, yesterday, I forgot to write. It's a simple task. I can usually finish my three pages in nine to twelve minutes. I even told Jason I needed to write at some point.

Instead, I watched television and made meals and caught up with an old friend. It was actually a really wonderful day, so I can't even say that I regret not writing. I also have no intention to punish myself. But, I do think I need to own up to that fact. I need to accept that I disappointed one person: me.

So, what's the lesson? What should I take away from my failure? What do I need to understand about why I failed? Let's see if I can't use all that book learning and critical thinking to draw some conclusions.

First, I think it's important for me to realize why I write. I write because it is my life blood. I write because I am a better person when I spend time putting words on the page, whether I'm writing a story or journaling or blogging or whatever. I write because it's who I am, but it's also a discipline. Something I have to craft into a practice.

Second, I need to accept what writing does to me. The peace of mind it brings is what writing does for me. What it does to me is a whole different thing. Like any attempt at self-improvement (I'm thinking here of meditation or therapy, weight loss or exercise), writing has an effect on me of dredging up my ugly stuff, reviving my demons and setting them loose on me. I fight more with the people I love. I draw away. I feel weak and lost. Like meditation, though, I find that if I stick with it, I can reach the other side. I can withstand the barrage of self-doubt and self-hatred. I can complete the task at hand and still be part of a loving community. Writing makes me sane, but it can also drive me crazy.

Third, I have to face the consequences of writing. It slows me down. I am less productive on a grand scale because writing takes a lot of energy when it is done well, and it takes time (more time than that actually spent facing the screen) to write. I've also found that writing as much as I do has actually made me less capable at speaking off the cuff. I'm not quite as quick-witted as I once was.

Finally, I need to remember to be grateful for this capacity. Talent is a gift. Art is a discipline. I owe it to myself to discipline my talent into something worthy of sharing with others if I want to continue to call myself a writer. And, this is why not writing one day is a failure. Because that's what I've decided it means to be disciplined. Maybe I'll never make it. Maybe I'll never be a daily writer for a long period of time, but that's the goal. And, you have a goal so that you have something to work toward.

So, maybe you think I'm being hard on myself. And, maybe I am, but I think failure provides the unique opportunity to look around and say, "Well, how exactly did I get here? And where would I like to be?"

Maybe this isn't my happiest post. I guess lately none of them have been. But, I feel comforted by my own shortcomings and I enjoy trying to make myself a better, a more complete, person. Now, off to finish what I've started. My novel needs editing.