When You Fail at Writing

September 22, 2015

Earlier this year, I tried to write a book. It was going to be an e-book, not a printed and bound book, but it was a book nonetheless. I had a word count goal in mind, and it was significantly larger than anything I’ve ever published before.

Earlier this year, I failed at writing that book. Every day, I would wake up and think “I should work on my book.” Every night, I would go to sleep thinking, “I should have worked on my book. Tomorrow, I will work on my book.” And the cycle repeated. I had no excitement, no joy, no eagerness to write that thing.

The book had been my idea. It was my content, my subject matter, my own story driving the whole thing…but I just couldn’t write it. Was it a matter of discipline? Lord knows I struggle with creating daily and consistent habits, so maybe that’s it. Maybe I just need to force myself to type, coerce myself into putting words down.

Or maybe I just need to let it go.

I sat and thought about the whole thing recently and wondered why it didn’t work. I think part of it was a lack of discipline. I think part of it was a busier work season and a failure to carve out time and space for my own writing. I also think part of it was this overwhelming feeling that I’m too young and too inexperienced in life to have anything worth saying to the world through a book.

For some reason, in my head, writing blogs feels like the max of what I’m qualified to do. Blogs are short and they’re short-lived. People skim them, maybe get through the whole thing if you’re lucky, and they move on and the whole thing is lost in a matter of days, rarely to be read again. It’s fleeting and temporary. I don’t feel like I have to have everything figured out and wrapped up with a bow when I write a blog. But a book? That feels really big. That feels scary. That feels like I need to have gotten to the bottom of the things and come to conclusions and passed all the tests first.

I haven’t gotten to the bottom of things. I’m realizing I never will. I’ll never have life figured out. I’ll never be able to explain pain or define joy or trace the paths my feet and my heart have traveled over the years.

Am I going to let that steal my words?

Am I going to freeze up and stop talking just because I’m young? Am I going to quit projects because they’re hard and I don’t feel qualified?

A friend in college always used to say “Fake it til you make it.” I never really liked that idea, but I’m realizing now that it may have some legitimacy. I don’t feel qualified to be a published author of a book at all. But I’ll never become a published author of a book unless I believe that I can do it, until I quiet the doubting voice in my own head and sit down and do the hard work of it.

I failed at writing that book. And that’s okay. I don’t think it was the right idea or the best book to try to write.

But I’m faking it until I make it. I’m believing I can be a published author. I let my failure go. I learned from it, but now I’m choosing to look forward to what’s next. I’ve found an idea I’m excited about that brings me joy. I’m eager to work on it every day. I’m learning the discipline it takes to do hard things because they’re worth it.

When you fail at writing, I guess the best thing to do is write about it…