Balls of Steel™: The Decision to Fail

Everyone craves success. It’s part of our genetic makeup. But with success, we also must define failure.

Many different standards exist for the term “failure,” especially in such a subjective industry prone to self-loathing. For me, failure isn’t hearing a “no.” Failure is when you choose to do nothing when you have a chance to do something. Once you stop trying, then it’s over. You’re done. You’ve lost.

But does one failure have to mean a permanent end? That’s up to you. Are you willing to let your dreams go? I ask that in all seriousness.

What would it take to make you walk away from your dreams forever?

Pause on that. Really think about it. Could you … would you … stop writing?

Let’s face it. It’s not an easy gig. We craft a story for years, then finally get that big pitch meeting. The exec requests the script, and you ride that high for days.

Until … the rejection email hits your inbox. Oh, what a heartbreaking plummet that ride is from the clouds of hope to the pits of your stomach.

What are you going to do? Quit? Or analyze why they passed on your project? Maybe your baby isn’t as pretty as you thought. Maybe your idea is too cliché. Maybe you haven’t created a character complex enough to attach talent. Maybe your budget would set a roof on fire.

Maybe, just maybe, you submitted pages that weren’t ready. Maybe you not only didn’t push your character to their limits, but you also didn’t push your writing abilities enough.

It’s easy to blame the industry but the problem might be you.

Yes. I said it. Because I have lived it. Most new writers have. We pitch too soon. We think we’re great when we’re only mediocre. We simply don’t have the chops yet. I maintain it takes about eight years to really understand how to write a great script.

However, whether you submitted stellar pages or not, the sting still exists. What are you going to do about it? After all, life is a series of decisions.

My first step to recovery always involves a good hard look at my own actions. In fact, last year, I vowed to change my mindset. When a challenge presented itself, one that would cause intense stress or disappointment, I’d ask two things:

Let’s say it’s something I can control. Time for choices …

Losing isn’t failing as long as you keep trying. Think about athletes. When they lose, they might smash a tennis racket or scream as they punch a locker, but the next day, they come back to the courts and train harder. They watch tapes of games to see what went wrong. They keep training. They keep working. But above all, they strive to learn.

Learning new ways to tackle a problem is how we grow. And how we ultimately find success.

Before change happens, whether we like it or not, we often have to face a crisis … or else there’s no reason to change our behavior.

So, let’s go back to my earlier question: What would it take to make you give up your writing dreams?

The people I know who have found writing success would simply answer, “No amount of rejection or disappointment would stop me from writing. Not a single thing.”

That sounds pretty obvious, but there’s an undeniable power in making that commitment. Write it down … or create your own version. Tape it to your laptop. Read it out loud every single day.

However much it hurts, no one ever died from hearing the word “no.” Furthermore, that “no” can be the gift that pushes you in a direction you never, ever would have gone, if not for that disappointment.

Pivot when you hit a wall. Sadie Dean and I say it all the time on Reckless Creatives. If one way doesn’t work, try another.

I made the decision to pause screenwriting and to write novels instead of scripts … is that failure? No, it’s survival. Besides, I always wanted to write a novel. Maybe some see it as quitting, but I don’t. I’m just pivoting. I ache to tell stories. That will never stop, no matter what medium I’m writing. I also am a learning junkie. I love a good challenge and a new perspective on the craft.

So, if breaking into Hollywood is frustrating you, consider writing a novel or a short story. The craft of screenwriting will help you immensely when writing a book. I cannot stress that enough. You also don’t have to totally leave screenwriting behind—adapt that novel later. Or try poetry. Perhaps writes some articles.

Just don’t stop writing. Stop putting limits on yourself—multi-hyphenates are all the rage.

Above all, don’t let this industry contraction keep you from putting words on the page. For when you are finally embraced by the creative community and find that champion for your story, success will be that much sweeter because of the hurdles you overcame.

You can’t control the industry, but you can control your actions, your choices, and your mindset.

As for the question of what I will ponder as I take my last breath, I can tell you, it won’t be Hollywood or the publishing industry. It will be my children.

Did I teach them well? Did I give them the lessons they need to thrive? Did I lead by example? Did I resist cushioning their fall while encouraging them to rise to the challenge, despite their tears … and mine? Because you won’t learn anything unless you’re willing to crawl from the filthy trenches of despair to fight another day.

It’s sounds like torture, but it’s actually called living. And we won’t have anything worth writing about if we haven’t felt pain.

Never underestimate the decision to embrace failure as a gift. Both to you and your writing.