The Fallacy of Failure

How to Thrive Beyond the Shadow of Your Doubt

Business magazines love to tout successful people’s failures. We love to read how the founders of Twitter had three startups that floundered or a hip CEO once worked at a Subway while living with his Mom. It sets the stage for the story to follow, the archetypal rise to glory of Greek fame we all want to emulate.

The thing is, these stories can bring as much anxiety as appreciation. They’re really not saying, “it’s okay to fail,” but “it’s okay to fail as long as you success on a wildly huge scale in the future.” The subtext is more about the cool factor of having a good story from your past to compare to your admirable present than it may be about the deep learnings that led you to where you are today. Or if the story does feature tips on your successful ascent to glory, the basic plot remains the same — “failure” is cool only when it results in success.

Fuck that story. Enough already. It’s an angle that’s wildly overused, and also needs to die as it hides a deeper truth about failure most of us live every single day — in the midst of trying times, you don’t know the outcome of your achievements. You don’t know if your work will result in a story fit for the glimmering pages of a hip mag featuring black and white stills of you and your posse laughing around a Foosball table. You just don’t.

Failure comes in a lot of shapes and sizes and should be embraced in its present form, however it’s manifested. For instance, disappointment is a typical standard-bearer of failure and it sucks. It’s a kick to the proverbial balls and may not involve any learning whatsoever. I was a professional actor for over 15 years, and I can think of any number of auditions I worked my ass off on only to be called back numerous times and lose a job based on the subjective criteria of the production team in the moment versus my skills. Yes, there were times I screwed up an audition, but there were just as many if not more times I rocked a callback only to learn (in one case with a Broadway show that could have greatly accelerated my career) that a part went to the friend of a Director. While this situation may not be deemed a “failure” versus a “shitty circumstance” anyone from the outside looking in wouldn’t care about the particulars and just dwell on a simple fact — you didn’t get the part. E.g, you must not have deserved it. Which of course, is bullshit.

I had a friend, a wonderful and talented actress who had a way of dealing with this type of devastating disappointment. When she lost a part to someone else, she would allow herself a day of mourning for the character she would have played. If you’ve ever been an actor, you know how important this is. Rehearsing to play someone else means you work to embody them, deeply empathizing with their lives. You may not like who they are, but you have to believe that their struggle in the context of the script is of life changing importance. You have to get inside their skin, stand in front of a mirror and believe you’re looking at that character. It’s a really intimate, exhausting, and liberating experience. But when you do all that work and then don’t get to fully realize them coming to life on a stage in front of an audience, where you don’t get to experience the catharsis that comes from that communion — it totally and completely sucks balls.

So she would mourn the character. She took the day and went out to eat, saw a movie, took care of herself. But she also said goodbye to that person. She recognized and celebrated the work she put into creating that character even though — and this is the crux of getting away from the traditional idea of “failure” — nobody outside of a small handful of people would ever witness the artistic beauty she had created within herself to portray that part. So while she didn’t get the part, she did let herself experience her “failure” as one would work through grief in a pragmatic way.

Part of my struggle with failure is it’s great to justify failing. But generally that involves complaining or whining which nobody wants to listen to. In that scenario, it also means the complaining is masking the pain of avoided grief. So let’s cut the bullshit idea that failure is a necessary stepping stone to our eventual, universally acclaimed brilliance and allow ourselves to simply live our lives and work our asses off on what we love, outside of how other people label our efforts, and despite the normal setbacks that happen in any industry.

That way we can see success every day of our lives, no Foosball table required.