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Copying Others and Failing vs. Forging Your Own Path

By

My friend Tad Hargrave recently shared the following video of skateboarder Jerry Gurney trying to land a trick, and failing. Each time Jerry fails, you can hear the cold slap of his body on the cement. Again and again, before he tries, he tells his friends that this is the time he will make it. Then with a cold slap, his body lands on the pavement again. And again:

When Tad shared this video, he included a message (I’m paraphrasing):

“Keep persisting. You’ll fail, but that’s how you get good at things no one else can imagine.”

I don’t know much about Jerry Gurney — why he tried this trick, why he doesn’t wear a helmet, or why this meant so much to him. But I do see this as an example of what successful creative people know, and onlookers don’t.

If you really want to succeed, it will be much more difficult than you think.

I don’t just mean the 17 times that Jerry tried the trick, and failed, before he landed it. But also the unseen thousands of hours of practice that aren’t represented in this video — the hours it took for him to even be at the level to get this creative.

Too often, when an author “makes it,” that is all we see. Them finding success. It’s tempting to boil the narrative down to “That author found a trick that worked.” Followed by the question, “What is that trick?”

When Marlon James recently won the Man Booker Prize, he shared his own version of the brutal road to success:

“His first novel, John Crow’s Devil, was rejected 78 times by publishers, before it was eventually published in 2005.” Asked if he had considered giving up writing, the 44-year-old writer said: “I did give it up. I actually destroyed the manuscript [to my first novel], I even went on my friend’s computer and erased it.” He said he retrieved the text by searching in the email outbox of an old iMac computer.”

Can you imagine that? I can’t, so I’m going to spell it out:

Me: “Hi, can you publish my book?”

The world:

  1. No.
  2. No.
  3. No.
  4. No.
  5. No.
  6. No.
  7. No.
  8. No.
  9. No.
  10. No.
  11. No.
  12. No.
  13. No.
  14. No.
  15. No.
  16. No.
  17. No.
  18. No.
  19. No.
  20. No.
  21. No.
  22. No.
  23. No.
  24. No.
  25. No.
  26. No.
  27. No.
  28. No.
  29. No.
  30. No.
  31. No.
  32. No.
  33. No.
  34. No.
  35. No.
  36. No.
  37. No.
  38. No.
  39. No.
  40. No.
  41. No.
  42. No.
  43. No.
  44. No.
  45. No.
  46. No.
  47. No.
  48. No.
  49. No.
  50. No.
  51. No.
  52. No.
  53. No.
  54. No.
  55. No.
  56. No.
  57. No.
  58. No.
  59. No.
  60. No.
  61. No.
  62. No.
  63. No.
  64. No.
  65. No.
  66. No.
  67. No.
  68. No.
  69. No.
  70. No.
  71. No.
  72. No.
  73. No.
  74. No.
  75. No.
  76. No.
  77. No.
  78. No.

And that’s just for his first novel. He wrote another a few years later. Then another, which is the one that won the Man Booker Prize.

I’m 42 now, and the older I get, the more I wonder why we weren’t taught certain things in college, like:

  1. Interpersonal communication
  2. Negotiation
  3. Emotional intelligence
  4. Gumption, or pretty much anything that Brené Brown talks about, such as how to rise again from a gutting failure
  5. Managing money not from a practical sense, but a psychological and emotional sense
  6. Relationship management
  7. Entrepreneurship
  8. Empathy (yes, seriously)

I’m not pretending that every single adult doesn’t have some skill level in each of these areas, but I wish we that when talking about success in college, we didn’t pretend that these aren’t core parts of it. They are. And certainly for writers they are.

Because without these things, well, we half-ass it. In the examples above:

  • If we are skateboarder Jerry Gurney, we stop trying after crash number 8. Less than halfway to success.
  • If we are author Marlon James, we stop submitting our novel at attempt number 38. Again, less than halfway to success.

If we had stopped at crash number 8 or query number 38, would we feel as though we half-assed it? Nope. There would indeed be a lot of skill and gumption to be proud of.

But in terms of doing what it takes to get the job done, it’s half-assed. Meaning, half of the effort required for success. And let’s face it, that trick is one of many that Jerry will land in a given year. And for Marlon, his “breakout success” came nearly 25 years after he graduated college, and on his third novel.

Which brings me back to Tad’s comment from above:

“Keep persisting. You’ll fail, but that’s how you get good at things no one else can imagine.”

The part that stuck with me was not just getting good at something through persistence, but this idea that you are mastering something that no one else even imagined. That it wasn’t you copying the “best practices” of others, trying to mimic their success, but where you tried something unique. Something that was purely in your voice.

For Jerry, it was a weird transfer over a pipe.

For Marlon, the best way I can frame this is how I was kind of taken aback by the way that the official Amazon.com review of the book focused on the reasons the reviewer expected to not like the book:

  • “The story is an oral history told in multiple voices.”
  • “Many of the characters speak in Jamaican patois: like many readers, I’m not a big fan of dialect on the page.”
  • “Violence: It starts early, and there’s a lot of it.”
  • “It’s about Jamaica: I hesitate to admit that I wasn’t initially interested in a book set in Jamaica”

All of these things were stacked against Marlon from a reader perspective even after his book was published.

Will we see a rash of books like these in the near future now that Marlon was rewarded for it? Perhaps. (My only hope is that someone adds a vampire twist.)

I talk to a lot of creative people who are frustrated. They feel overwhelmed and crushed by the long list of things they are told they “have” to do in order to succeed.

They spend too much time reacting to other people’s expectations instead of becoming great at something that no one else even thought of.

The result? They half-ass the same stuff that everyone else tries.

I would love to know: In the work that you do, has “success” (however you define it) been harder than you had anticipated? If so, in what ways?

Thanks.
– Dan

About Dan Blank

Dan Blank is the founder of WeGrowMedia, where he helps writers share their stories and connect with readers. He has helped hundreds of authors via online courses, events, consulting, and workshops, and worked with amazing publishing houses and organizations who support writers such as Random House, Workman Publishing, Abrams Books, Writers House, The Kenyon Review, Writer’s Digest, Library Journal, and many others.

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Comments

  1. Hi Dan. I took your course Find & Engage, and actually didn’t want it to end. Your voice (I mean the sound of it) and your message is so encouraging to me as a writer. This post about failures as stepping stones on the path of success is really encouraging, too. I wish I could just sit and chat with you someday!

  2. Hey Dan,

    You’re so right about what’s missing from college courses. Everything I learned about communication, negotiation, reading others, money, relationships, running a business, and having compassion is stuff I learned on the fly.

    I did learn something about business from my dad, who was an entrepreneur. It was pretty simple: don’t quit. He didn’t.

    I learned about negotiating by hammering out publishing contracts. As a young agent I was a terrier with a bone. Every clause was a battle. Then I realized that give and take was better. Still later it dawned on me that the way negotiating is conducted matters as much as what you give or get.

    And somewhere along the way I figured out that a contract is only a guide. It’s what both parties actually do in their working relationship that matters the most. I still enjoy finding solutions in legalistic language but mostly a book contract is quickly forgotten as real publishing unfolds.

    Reading others and relationships have also had their learning curves. I’m still at it. Empathy came to me in a simple piece of advice from a voice of long ago: Treat everyone the same. I stopped judging people and started seeing them. It’s a practice. I fail a lot. But I keep trying.

    So, my point here is that not quitting even after 78 rejections is important, but as important is what you do as those failures pile up: learn. Every fail is an instruction. It may be as simple as “keep going”, but there may be something more specific to take in and use.

    Novels are a highly complex art form. Teaching advanced fiction writing has taught me how much there is to master. But taking it one skill at a time will get you there. Never mind that a few others may get some of the art intuitively. It looks like talent but it’s really just luck. The rest of us don’t need that. Because we can learn.

    And if there’s a lot to learn, meh, who cares? It’s fun. Unlike falling on your butt on hard concrete. I’ll take sitting in a writing chair over that any day.

    Excellent post, Dan. I love your graphic examples. Really helps us get it. Great spending an hour with you the other day, too. I’m inspired.

    • Thank you Don!!! The context you share is enormously helpful. I love this: “Every fail is an instruction. It may be as simple as “keep going”, but there may be something more specific to take in and use.” And especially that the reality of how things work in a collaboration is very different than what a contract says.

      Thank you for the generosity here, and yes, for the great conversation the other day!
      -Dan

  3. Intense sustained effort. That’s what I’m learning that it takes to write a publishable novel, to connect with potential readers and to not give up. I’ve learned to keep my head down, limit the noise around me as best I can, and show up every day ready to sweat. No one is applauding or patting me on the head, and some days its pretty lonely.But its what I do, so I’m doing it. Your examples in this post are inspiring. Our culture seems to encourage the fantasy that everything can come in an instant, but Tad and Marlon are saying something different, as are you! Thanks.

  4. What an important post, Dan! I especially like your visual listing of all the rejections–so effective. But what really resonates with me is your message about “becoming great at something that no one else even thought of.”

    I received rejection after rejection for my memoir, Innocent (not 78, though!). A couple of times the rejection came with a handwritten note that the editor or agent loved the story but didn’t think there was a market for a memoir about being on welfare. People around me suggested I rewrite it as a novel centered around a love story, but I was on a mission to show what lies behind the stereotype of a welfare mother, and I thought a true story was the most powerful way to accomplish that.

    It was finally published by a small, independent press in 2011. Innocent has won several awards and prompted a letter to me from Hillary Clinton. Since then other books by welfare recipients have made it into publication. However, the success that means the most to me is when readers tell me they stayed up all night reading it and how much the book meant to them, either by validating their experience or by making them think twice about someone on public assistance.

    What has been harder than I expected is discoverability, getting a larger audience to notice it. At least it’s still selling, however slowly.

  5. Dan, this post is a godsend. Really, I mean that. I’ve been going through a period of intense discouragement in my writing, feeling unsupported, that it’s impossible for me to grow an audience, that it’s impossible for me to learn this craft and write as well as my literary heroes. Now, thanks to your post, I’m determined to keep trying. I may fail. I may die before I succeed. But, dammit, I’m going to try. Thanks.

  6. “I would love to know: In the work that you do, has “success” (however you define it) been harder than you had anticipated? If so, in what ways?”

    Oh my gosh, Dan. Yes, all the time. So much so that on Wednesday I wrote a blog post about how it feels like writers get blamed when they don’t have the social approval other writers may get, and what do we do then? How do we persevere? Should we persevere at all?

    I saw this video earlier this week, and it probably spurred me to write my own post. I love how each try you see him get a little closer to the mark, to success. It was a fine example of why we write, even if it seems no one sees us.

    I hope you have an excellent Friday. :)

  7. I’m currently working on three projects: The Artist’s Way, Writing the Breakout Novel Workbook and crocheting. I’ve lost count on the number of revision I’ve written for the WIP. I know I am on year eight, but each revision puts me a sentence closer to success. This revelation surfaced on those damn moaning–I mean morning–pages. Assuming I finish this draft by the end of the year, I’ll submit and submit and submit and continue to write and write and write. As for that crocheting project….well, I’ve moved beyond squares and rectangles. I can actually make Christmas ornaments including a star tree topper. How’s that for success?

  8. This post is a wonderful gift this morning. I went on an ice cream binge last night instead of writing. I’m working on the second official draft (there have been roughly 5 or so unofficial drafts chucked in the trash), and was seized by a nagging self doubt fueled by the Must’nts. I woke up in a haze from a sugar coma, and found your post. It’s time to grab a cup of coffee, and start over. I know what I must do. Thank you. And I’m buying you a cup.

  9. Thank you for this post today, Dan.

    I stopped trying to write a novel in prose form when I realized something that had been in front of me all along- my weird pipe transfer is writing a story in verse form.

    “That it wasn’t you copying the “best practices” of others, trying to mimic their success, but where you tried something unique. Something that was purely in your voice.”

    I couldn’t find my voice in prose, not matter how deep I dug, or how much I tried to heed or mimic the call of others. When I wrote something real and true that spoke to others, it was in verse, or prose poem form. My ego took a walloping on this one.

    I don’t know how it will play into the market or where my book will go once I’m done, but I know one thing with confidence now that I didn’t know before- I won’t quit on it. And there’s a form of success there. I’m ready and willing to learn.

    For me, the hardest part of reaching that success, or being anywhere close to it, was figuring out just what my calling is, what I have to say after studying, learning, failing, and writing draft after draft.

    Happy weekend. You’ve inspired a lot of great writers today.

  10. What a visual those 78 nos present! Great idea!

    As others have been, I am struck by the concept of finding my own unique path, as opposed to being “herded” toward the rest of the pack of the so-called publishing successes. I’ve been thinking about this a lot over the years. I am actually quite confident about many aspects of my work (things like world-building and characterization). At times I’ve felt like rebelling against being herded. But there’s a fine line. I know my work is sort of fringe, even for my fringe genre. But I also know there are things I’ve gained through patience. The things I’ve learned—through rejection, and being read, and being “sort of read” then set aside—have been about making what is unique about my work more adept at drawing in and holding readers. Readers who are a fit, but with whom I wouldn’t have connected without undergoing this lengthy process.

    I well understand that I won’t connect with every reader. And I’m still not sure where the line is. But I’m fairly confident that my gut will tell me when I’ve reached it. I feel more confident about that with each passing draft.

    Well done, Dan! I’m very glad our community gets a regular dose of your easy-going wisdom.

  11. Good on you trying nearly 80 times despite the things other people think. I have to ask myself, am I writing this for the agent, or am I writing it for the guy who snaps it up in the airport concourse books store, who wants to be entertained while he sips his liquid of choice?

    The agents say, “Do NOT start with a prologue.” I started with a prologue.There are two stories in the prologue.

    The agents say, “Do NOT go to a flashback within the first 50 pages. My first flashback came in paragraph four.”

    The agents say, “Do NOT deviate from the story.” I told the story, but I told other stories that probably aren’t at all about what the premise of my story is.

    The agents say, “Do NOT try to market your book without an agent.” I called the publisher on the telephone.

    HE said, “We’ll publish it.”

    Will I EVER learn? I seriously doubt it.

  12. Thank you for this pep talk, Dan. Spelling out what it takes–the 77 nos–was especially effective.
    Has “success” been harder than anticipated?
    Oh, yeah. Last year, I sent over 68 submissions. This year, I sent 73–so far. I currently have 14 manuscripts in 28 slush piles. At times, it feels like walking up hill in a blizzard. But I know I’ll get there. All I have to do is keep walking.

  15. Great article and that visual of the 78 nos really struck me. Never give up. Keep learning. Actually, I’ve been primed for the writing life by my work as a scientist. Lots of failures but they were all opportunities to learn.

    I also found striving for small goals a big boost. Shooting for a poem or article in a children’s magazine instead of writing the great American novel. It’s about taking baby steps and learning the craft along the way. I say celebrate every little milestone — from writing itself (giving yourself the time to do what you love), to finishing a draft (persevering), the rejection slips (it means you took the time to submit), and publication (yay, now onto the next book). We are so blessed to have this writing life.

  16. Loved this post. If I read it every day it would encourage me to keep on. I know I am learning and I believe in my work. I am glad I chose writing. My moves to get to the computer have been perfected. Beth

  17. Hey Dan,

    I feel like success has been hard for me, not because I started early, but because so many people have listed reasons (all of which are currently invalid) of why it wouldn’t work ever since I started. I intend to become an author (of what caliber, I’m not entirely certain), but my entire life, people have told me that my visual impairment and coordination deficiency would make that impossible.

    When I told my family that I wanted to self-publish my books, they told me two things. The first thing they said to me was that I was too young (nineteen). The second thing they told me was that a job in a psychology field would pay higher than a job in any communications and social media degree field (quite wrong, in all honesty, because federal debt exists). So, because of this flawed reasoning, they are pushing me toward a degree I have no interest in.

    However, it wasn’t until I was reading this post that I realized that what they had told me was sitting in the back of my mind, nagging at me and holding me back, making me doubt myself whenever I wrote because I thought I had to meet their expectations of what a good book would look like and be. When I read your article, I realized that I could have the worst book in creation, but the only way to know for certain would be to actually follow through and do it the way I want to.

    Therefore, I may be an irrelevant college student with two manuscripts, tons of notes and only eight chapters of progress, but thanks to you, I’ve realized–even if only partially–that as a self-publisher, I should do things the way I want to rather than the way others expect me to if I ever want to be truly happy with my work.

    – Makayla

    • Makayla,
      Thank you for sharing this, and for the kind words. MANY writers don’t begin their books until later in life. They start out at age 47, with 3 kids, a full-time job, debt, a mortgage, and just begin what you have started at 19. That is an AMAZING thing for you. Looking back, I know many people wish they would have done exactly what you are: starting young and sticking with it. PLEASE stick with it.
      -Dan

  18. Don’t think of problems as failures; think of them as setbacks. If you call them failures, then you – as an individual – will start to feel like a failure. And that’s definitely a toxic impediment to your creative energy. I finally convinced myself of that, after years of beating myself into the ground over insignificant crap. I was one of those hapless, introverted souls who aspired to other people’s ideals of how I should live my life. It drove me crazy and pushed me to the brink of suicide (sometimes homicide) on a few occasions. Then I got a grip – a firm grip – on my thoughts and realized I wouldn’t last long going down that path.

    As of now, I’m much more confident in both myself and my writing. Writing is my therapy and is one of my attributes in which I am 100% confident. I’m not writing just to get published and become that rarest of all creatures: a literary millionaire. I write simply because it’s my passion. It’s who I am, and I no longer fret over whether it meets the approval of people around me.

    As for high school and college, I have some animosity towards the concept of math. They need to teach people how to balance a checkbook and figure out how much to tip the wait-staff, instead of what a right triangle is. Seriously! Unless you work in chemistry or engineering, when was the last time a geometry proof came in handy?!

    And finally, consider this: Hemingway was rejected almost a hundred times before he got his first story published. Now, he’s lauded as one of the 20th century’s greatest writers. Someone somewhere will like what you write. It may not be anytime soon; it may even be after you’re dead. But, at some point in time, your work will be appreciated.

  19. Do you accept hugs? Because I so want to give you one now. Sorry I missed this yesterday when it posted, but life intervened (as it sometimes does). You’ve shared such an important message, one that can never be said enough. And you’ve expressed it so well, with both wit and earnestness in good measure. Thank you for that.

    Writing is tough, and the deeper you go into yourself for your stories, the harder it can be. There are no tricks, as far as I can tell. In the end there is only the faith you have that your stories matter, that your voice matters. And forging ahead is the only practice. Success to me is facing down the silent fears and moving ahead when doubts cloud the horizon. Some days I’m more successful than others.

    • Thank you John! That means a lot to me. And I appreciate your sharing your own experience. here. And let’s face it, the Writer Unboxed community is pretty much a big group hug!
      -Dan

  20. Hi Dan. Your post is helpful, in that it calls on writers to ask serious questions of themselves. And I agree with Vaughn Roycroft that your graphic is very telling. What I think needs to be added is this: the graphic must be understood in terms of the process by which books get commercially published. Marlon James did NOT submit his first novel 78 times to editors before it was published. An agent who believed in him did the submitting.
    Both James and your skateboarder illustrate something else about writing and seeking publication. It requires a kind of personality that is prepared to defy what reason dictates. That’s because one of the clinical definitions of an insane person is someone who keeps repeating actions that fail. By this definition, James and the skateboarder are both nuts. But writers must believe in themselves beyond the limits of reason. With this caveat: if they don’t learn from their failures, then, yes, they are (to be polite about it) not well.

  21. Writers must believe in themselves so much that plugging away each day is the reward in itself – just knowing that one is too stubborn rather than too crazy to quit.

  22. I love this post, Dan. And the quote from your friend: “Keep persisting. You’ll fail, but that’s how you get good at things no one else can imagine.” So inspiring. Thanks.