Wednesday, January 2, 2013

Frozen by the Fear of Failure

I came across this question last week when Tricia and I were visiting studios in Asheville's River Arts District:

"What would you attempt to do if you knew you could not fail?"

I really like this. This question challenges you to consider what you'd like to do or to learn and then evaluate why exactly you're not already doing it. Going back to school.  Asking someone out on a date. Changing jobs. Speaking out against the crowd.

Who's willing to admit they're afraid of failure? Well, probably a lot of people.

When kids are really, really young they think they're good at everything. They're never afraid of failure because they see success in all they do. We, as adults, encourage this with our constant praise. Yet at some point children learn they are not so good as they thought. They receive their first few doses of criticism and then begin comparing themselves to others. Slowly they adopt the belief that things are fixed - they're either this or they're that. Of course, for many feeling as though they are good at something comes from being able to do it easily with little struggle. This is why Muluken has so much confidence in himself as a baseball player. He was good almost right away. The same is true with Ty and gymnastics, and Ainsley and Harper with reading On the flip side, there are things that each of them feel they are terrible at only because success doesn't come as quickly or as easily. But should that even be an expectation?

As we were walking through the studios I came across a small card one of the artists had put out on a table. It explained that when you pay for one piece of art you are really paying for the many, many others that did not come out so well. The failures. The notion that artists churn out piece after piece without failure is a misconception. A few years ago my class had a singer songwriter come in and speak with us about the process of writing a song. She explained that she had written well more than a hundred songs and from those only eleven or twelve actually made it onto her CD. Missteps and failures are to be expected. At least by those who are not crippled by them.

So, what would I attempt if I knew I could not fail? If I were assured of succeeding?

* I'd practice a lot more with my guitar. I long ago hit what I felt was a plateau and stopped trying to get any better. Over time I've actually grown worse.

* I'd sing more. There's a small range of notes I can sing. It's the many others that befuddle me.

* I'd write a book. Not a teacher one (I think I could already accomplish that if I had the time). No, I'd write one that tells a story. A dark story where the character you love most dies at the end.

* I'd build a detached garage outside our house all by myself.

* Maybe I'd start a summer foundation that takes kids into the woods to hike, swim, look at plants and animals. Oh, and throw rocks at distant trees.

* Be more willing to offer my opinion in certain situations.

I assume the point of the question is that anything you list is something you should, therefore, do. But, no pressure.


2 comments:

  1. No pressure indeed. Many of my own wishes are close to yours. Play more music, sing more, write more (although with my satisfying ending I might sell more), give more. This sounds like a News Year's Resolution list - and I know you didn't mean that...

    I want to write and sell a song that someone else will record. I'd like to hear it on the radio.

    I want to write a novel that is bought, printed, sold, read and enjoyed. Hey, I'm only 55. Wasn't Granma Moses a hundred or something when she sold her first painting?

    I'd like to play an original song. For David Wilcox. And have him hold my music for me while I sing. And have him laugh that loon laugh when I hit a punch line. And nod his head when I pull off a cool riff.


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  2. I think I'd need a support group of people who were also ignoring the threat of failure so we could fumble around together...maybe there's a book in telling the story of that group. It probably wouldn't be as dark as you'd like, Chris. I think this fear of failure thing is why I like yoga so much. My mat is a place I can go where falling over or not getting into a pose is often a major part of the gig.

    Right now my list has stuff on it that is less of a big step and more like moving time around to actually line up to what I think I want life to look like... spending less time "working", climbing more mountains, playing more music, listening to more music, reading more, writing more (this is the one that is the scariest...and I'm really not sure why).

    Tim, your David Wilcox fantasy makes me smile inside.

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