Lately, I've seen a lot of blog
posts and articles about failure. No
matter what we do, everyone is aware of it.
It’s a constant risk, but one that we live with every day—in every
aspect of our lives. Should writing and
publishing be any different? The thing
is, some people seem to be taking it to an extreme lately, including a blogger
who expounded on the idea that “failure is our muse.”
Wait—What?
I hope you had the same reaction to
this as I did. It’s defeatist and makes
no sense. Talk about pessimism. Have I ever experienced failure? Oh God, yes.
Every time I try to run a mile, eat at Chili’s, or try to get a tan. But calling failure my muse? No.
I’m sorry, but if failure is your muse, then you are in the wrong
fucking profession.
If that seems a bit harsh, think of
it this way: Does failure serve as
inspiration for a surgeon whose patients die under his knife? What about the mechanic whose newly-repaired cars
blow up? The architect who designs a house
that collapses?
The concept just doesn't fly with
me. It doesn't work.
Now, in the author’s defense, I
understand what he was trying—but failing—to say. Not muse, but motivation. Dictionary.com (used since I can’t seem to
find a copy of the OED without driving five hours) defines muse as verb meaning
“to meditate on.” There are other
definitions as well, including “to comment thoughtfully or ruminate on” as well
as the noun form of the word in reference to classical Greek mythology. But not one of them means inspiration.
I can’t think of a single instance
when it is a good thing for anyone to meditate on failure. Reflection?
That’s good. We all need time to
stop and look back on what we’ve done.
Time to see our path and correct our course. But meditation implies a focus to the
exclusion of everything else. And where
would hope and success be but with the all inclusive everything else?
Ask a scientist what makes us human. Depending on the field, the answer
differs. Opposable thumbs. A developed brain. The ability to create tools and adapt the
environment to our needs rather than we to it.
Ask an artist, the answer differs just as much. Ask yourself.
What makes us human? For me, it’s
a one-word answer:
Hope.
Sure, we’re the culmination of so
many adaptations that it’s impossible to narrow down humanity—and what it means
to be human—to just a single concept.
And I would agree with that. I
agree with the opposable thumbs and the concept of self. But for me, hope is the single theme running
through the lives of untold trillions who have walked this earth. That’s why it’s such a terrible thing when
someone loses hope. And what is the
antithesis of hope but failure? Or at
least musing on failure.
Honestly, I am no better than
anyone else. I muse over failure much
more than I should—much more than is healthy.
It’s part of my psyche, embedded there like a rusted nail. But I can’t let it rule my life. None of us can.
Using failure as a motivator? Sure, I can understand that—saving that
patient, building the perfect house, creating a better vehicle. Writing the perfect sentence. It won’t ever happen, but it’s a goal. My goal.
But hope isn't my muse. That would prohibit my understanding of the
darker sides of life. I wrote a murder
mystery, for crying out loud. I need those aspects in my writing. If I focused solely on hope, then the story
might look something more like this:
“Who killed Andrea?”
“I don’t know.”
“Man, I hope she’s all right.”
Andrea sits up. “I’m good.
It’s ok, (REDACTED), you
didn’t have to shoot me.”
And everyone lives happily ever
after.
That would sell a lot of books,
wouldn’t it? To be a writer (or anything
beyond an automaton), you need to understand the many different facets of
humanity. We can’t just focus on hope,
or failure, or charisma. It simply
doesn’t work. Imagine a rainbow of just
one color or a forest that’s slate grey in the fall. The bark, the leaves, the plants and
animals—all just grey. Boring, right?
Instead, we must take everything as
a whole and notice the subtle differences.
Like when each of us looks at a picture and sees a slightly different
image.
So sure. Use failure.
To avoid doing so would only
make you
a failure. Failure is how we learn. But don’t let it rule your life. Motivation I can get, but a muse? Hell no.
Rather, I would argue to avoid muses; focus instead on the wide world of
color around you. Notice how it shifts
and changes within each person at different times. None of us are red all the time, but can flow
into yellow or blue at a moment’s notice.
And don’t forget the subtle shading.
Is that sports car the same color as the apple you ate for lunch?
No. And we are the same way.
Unless you’re two years old. Then your apples and sports cars can be the
same color.
Gloriously so.
