To paraphrase a famous
quote (I think about light bulb invention), “Every failure teaches you a little
more about what doesn’t work, and gets you a little closer to discovering what
does.” In other words, you probably have to fail a few times to work out what
success is or how to succeed.
How does this work
with writing? It’s not quite so simple, I suspect. It’s why teaching creative
writing is a lot different from teaching, say, plumbing. In plumbing a teacher
can tell a student to join two pipes together, and if the join leaks, it can
easily be pointed out why it failed. Then the student tries again (and maybe
again) until they know how to do it successfully.
In teaching a student
about writing a short story, there are a number of skills that can be learned.
How a story works, structure, characterization, good dialogue, setting and
description etc. The student can write a competent (or not so competent) story.
But if the story isn’t really good, if readers don’t enjoy it or engage with
it, that’s where the real work begins. You could say the story “failed”. Or you
could say the story didn’t “fail” in some ways, but overall it didn’t “work”.
Then other people, like family, might read it and love it, simply because they
love the person who wrote it.
See how “failing” at
writing starts to get really muddy?
I think the issue is
in relying only on the audience or reader/s to determine failure. In a class, the
teacher should be experienced enough to be able to tell the student where the
story fails, why, and – most importantly – give suggestions on how to improve
it. To get it closer to “not failing”, closer to publication perhaps.
But really failure
begins with the writer. Acknowledging that we begin from a place of failure. As
long as the story is just in our heads, we avoid failing. As soon as we put it
on the page, we have to understand that we have very likely “failed” to write
it as we imagined it. That’s where a lot of other writing skills have to come
into play.
The first is reading
as a writer. If you read critically, you learn how and why other writers’
stories succeed or fail (or partially fail). It might be plot holes, shallow
characters, poor dialogue. The more you can pinpoint these through your
analysis, the more you learn. I can’t tell you how many writing students either
don’t read enough or don’t read widely and critically. We see examples of
critical analysis in other areas, such as coaches who analyse how other players
and teams work, and writing is the same, if not more so.
Then you have to learn
to read your own work critically, and work out what is wrong and how to fix it.
This is incredibly hard. Being in a good workshop group can help. But mostly it
is about understanding that your first draft will have “failed” in some way, if
not many ways, and then tackling revision from that starting point. It requires
faith that you can do it, faith that despite the time it will take, you’ll
eventually succeed, or at least get closer to success. And belief that every
revision will teach you to see what wasn’t working.
That’s why writing is a
craft, more than a special gift or talent. I’ve seen many talented writers in
my classes over the years. I can count on one hand those who have persevered,
learned from their failures and reached a level of major success. And many more
who have succeeded and been published because they kept going, kept learning
and kept moving forward.
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