The Art of Failure.

I’ve been lurking a bit on The Daily Post for writing prompts to help with le block. I really liked the topic for today, which is the idea that if you were guaranteed to not fail at one thing what would it be?

In terms of writing I cannot imagine not failing. There is a necessity and beauty to failure. Necessity in that you can only know truly know success after failure. The beauty in it is that moment where choice comes into play; you either give up or you don’t.

I have no illusions about the kind of writer I’ll be. If I’m lucky I’ll get published. If not, I still get to do something really fucking cool. I can put my own stuff out. I can be more involved with the local artsy community. The reality is that so long as I keep writing I can’t fail. Simple and to the point.

In therapy I talked a lot about the fear of failure. That was a big one for me. That somehow if I didn’t heal in the right way that I had failed to transition from victim to survivor.  I have never seen myself a victim. Who would want to?

On the other hand I don’t feel like a survivor. Stuck in limbo more like. Somewhere in the abyss fumbling around searching for a source of light. A door to open. A path to walk down.

Deep down I knew that I wasn’t writing, because I can’t really write about that night. It’s the perfect Catch-22. In order to write again I have to write, in some way, about the trauma. About how it and he changed things for me. But, I can’t bring myself to write anything at all, because of the block brought on by the trauma.

Obviously, I’m still figuring things out. Right now it feels more important to work up the courage to write about it. A fictionalized version, of course. It has taken me a long time to even get this far. I had to fail a lot to get here. It’s important to fail. Failing forces you to pick and choose your battles. Right now. This is mine.

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Too Big To Fail.”