I have failed at so many things. I’m basically failing all the time. Just this week, for example, I’ve failed at:
Exercising every day
Writing a query letter for my manuscript
Writing a new post for my non-sleazy marketing Substack (if you’re subscribed, it’s coming, I promise!)
Abstaining from alcohol until this weekend (in my defense, I applied for $1200/mo health insurance yesterday, and it was very stressful)
Abstaining from sugary treats until Christmas (silver lining: I succeeded at baking delicious gluten-free blondies)
Going back a few decades, I’ve failed at even bigger things, like:
Turning my lifelong chubby body into a thin body
Becoming a popular kid
Landing a major publishing deal
Persuading various employers that they should keep paying my salary
Supporting myself as a freelancer (to be fair, I did succeed on my second try. The jury’s still out on my third.)
Getting on a 30 under 30 list
Getting on a 40 under 40 list
And so 👏🏻 much 👏🏻 more! 👏🏻
Is it normal to feel like a constant failure all the time?
I’ve come to believe that feeling like a constant failure is part and parcel of modern life. Unless and until we’re ready to throw away our phones, we’re always one tap away from stories of people — usually much younger, richer, and sexier than we are — claiming they’ve succeeded at whatever we’re currently failing at. We humans have always been prone to self-comparison, but throw *waves hands* all this into the mix? Gasoline, meet fire.
Not only do we feel like we’re failing all the time; we feel immense pressure not to talk about it. Like at all, to anyone except maybe our therapist (if you’re lucky enough to have decent health insurance and an in-network therapist, that is). So we pretend we’re doing great to everyone else, while falsely thinking we’re the only ones struggling, convinced that everyone around us is doing great.
And so the snake eats its own tail.
Announcing FailStack, the new interview series that’s all about failure
I want to talk about this. I want to talk about how not great we’re doing. I want to talk about, nay, I want to celebrate failure.
Instead of demonizing failure, diminishing it, fearing it, sweeping it under the rug, or only celebrating it after the fact like some tech bro who moved fast and broke things, I want to have real, honest conversations about our relationship to failure and how failure shapes our lives.
I want to talk with writers who been rejected hundreds of times. Artists who’ve never sold a piece. Athletes who lost the big race. People who’ve been fired. People who can’t get hired. Students. Single parents. Business owners and Uber drivers and journalists. Anyone who’s ever reached for the stars and fallen flat on their face instead.
I want to talk with you, maybe?
I’m still thinking through the questions and format for this series, which is of course called FailStack.
In the meantime, fill out this super-short interest form to let me know if you’d like to be interviewed:
We launch in January.
lol. Filling in the form made me actually do the thing I’d failed to do for 6 months.
It's Brave to Admit 'Failure' 🙌🏽
Let's acknowledge how we've fallen short of our (often impossibly high and needlessly performative) expectations of ourselves!
Let's open that door to self-acceptance, compassion, and loving-kindness.
I'm IN. 🙏🏼 Thank you, Robin.