015: When ‘failure’ doesn’t mean you’ve failed
Ways to make failure more 'frictionless'
Each month this newsletter takes a theme that explores creativity in artistry and life, with each weekly edition offering a different perspective on that theme.
The theme for May is: friction.
We might think of friction as negative, or something to eradicate. But friction often provides a way into insight and positive change. Rachel Campbell, art director and designer, puts it beautifully in this post:
Friction is the teacher. It tells us where we’re stuck, and where we’re unclear. It’s how we build an actual perspective. And when we remove it, we lose the pause that allows deeper noticing. We lose the opportunity to make meaning through the act of making.
Whether we’re creating art or consciously creating our life, friction can be a useful tension that draws our attention to what needs to emerge. Last week, we explored friction in the shape of constructive constraint.
This week’s focus is failure: how, when reframed, it can provide a gateway to change and greater wholeness.
There's a moment when words seem to press against the underside of your skin, longing to emerge.
You feel the urgency like a physical pull. But when you try to reach for the words, they scatter like startled birds. There’s only a trace of what might have been.
Or perhaps you began that project with fervour: your canvas is stretched tight and ready, the Word document is open and waiting, the clay is damp and responsive between your fingers. Days pass. Weeks. The initial spark dims and the half-formed creation sits abandoned.
You feel it as silent accusation, another unfinished testament to your inability to create what’s alive inside you.
The territory of shadows
I don’t know about you but when I’ve been in these situations, what emerges is an all-encompassing sense of shame. In the glare of that shame, I feel unworthy, inadequate and exposed. The world narrows to a single, searing truth:
I’ve failed.
Failure is the territory of the underworld, the terrain of crisis. We feel dragged into the darkness, as though crossing the threshold into a different realm altogether. It feels like a death of sorts. We become isolated, disconnected, unwitnessed, raw—like skin under a bandage when it’s removed too soon.
I felt this when I hit a wall with my second novel. Working on it alone, with no support network, was too much. The silence around my effort became deafening. Words that once felt easy became stagnant stretches of water that felt impossible to navigate. Every day the lack of progress was like sinking deeper into quicksand.
If something similar has happened to you, what sensations arose in your body? Did your throat constrict? Did you feel the heat of shame on your face? Did you experience expectation pressing down on your shoulders?
The necessary friction
We know—both from science and the arena of creativity—that what first looks like a failed attempt creates friction that results in learning and new directions.
Thomas Edison's thousands of unsuccessful lightbulb prototypes show how the friction produced by so-called ‘failure’ drives eventual breakthrough. The rough edges of our disappointments sand away our illusions, revealing something truer underneath.
I’ve written before about how Edwin Land, inventor of the Polaroid camera, underwent years of ‘failed’ experiments with polarisers, lenses and filters before succeeding. For me, Land’s words say it all: ‘an essential aspect of creativity is not being afraid to fail.’
And still, we are afraid of failure. And of the vulnerability, the rawness, the shame it brings up for us.
It doesn’t have to be this way.
The fertile dark
When we feel we’re failing, there’s always something deeper happening under the surface.
You’re being called to a new depth of being. The courage it takes to face the shame, to willingly descend to the underworld, is enormous. But it's a sign that something bigger is being asked of you: a different direction, the capacity for expansion; something far greater than you could have imagined.
In this sense, failure is productive—not in the sense of productivity metrics and output measurements, but in the sense of being generative and plentiful. It has another side to it: like the dark aspect of the moon that remains unseen but is no less essential to its wholeness.
On the other side of shame is openness, growth, possibility. When we allow ourselves to be broken open by disappointment, what floods in is pain and the light that pain makes visible. New pathways emerge from between the cracks.
But here's the truth that took me years to learn: it’s virtually impossible to do it alone.
The journey through creative failure requires witnesses. It demands that we reach out when every instinct screams to withdraw. It asks us to show ourselves fully in our fragility precisely when we feel most unworthy of connection.
When I finally shared my struggles about my novel with fellow writers, something shifted. The shame lost its stranglehold. The project that had died in isolation began to breathe again under the positive regard of others who understood.
An invitation
What creative failure are you carrying alone right now? What vision feels impossible to manifest? What shame do you hold close to your chest, afraid to let anyone see?
I invite you to reach out. Share the struggle. Name the failure. Let others witness your journey through the underworld. Because it's only by allowing ourselves to be seen in our creative disappointments that we can discover what waits on the other side.
The project that feels like failure today might simply be teaching you how to listen more deeply to what wants to emerge through you. The shame you carry might be the cocoon from which something more authentic is struggling to break free.
What would it look like to ask for help today?
Love, Rachel
Community inspiration
Last week, I had the pleasure of sharing time on a Substack Live with
that focused on coaching and creativity. If you didn’t catch our conversation live, you can watch the replay here.
One of the things I really value about Hanna (a creative, visual artist and coach) is the way she embodies curiosity. At the moment, she’s offering free 45-minute ‘Time to Think’ slots for anyone looking for a space to untangle their thoughts, connect with a creative thinking partner or pluck up courage to explore an area of discomfort or fear.
Go here to find out more about Time to Think or if you want to jump in and book a slot (which I recommend!) you’ll find the scheduling link here.
Creative inspiration
Books on the topic:
If you're ready to journey through the territory of creative failure towards transformation, these two books offer powerful maps for the terrain. Rising Strong by Brené Brown traces the path of reckoning with disappointment and writing a new ending to your creative story. Mindset: The New Psychology of Success by Carol S. Dweck reveals how reframing failure as growth rewires your creative resilience, allowing you to see the fertile darkness not as an ending, but as the soil from which new possibilities emerge.
Online resources:
The Failure Factor podcast with Megan Bruneau. Although aimed predominantly at entrepreneurs, there’s something for every creative thinker in the archives. I particularly enjoyed the episode on ‘Having difficult conversations and getting comfortable with rejection’ with guest Amanda Bradford.
Memorable quote of the week
Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better.
— Samuel Beckett
What’s next?
If there’s something you’re longing to create (a writing project, an artistic creation or even a new venture) I’m here to support you to develop your courage and expand the power of your self-expression.
Here’s how I can help:
Make an appointment for a virtual coffee (free). I hold 3-4 slots every month for a 20 minute chat so we can get to know each other. Perfect if you’re curious about meeting people and making new connections.
Book a 30-minute connection call (free). This is for anyone—whether you have an idea you want to brainstorm, an issue that’s holding you back, or just want to know about me and/or my work. Think of it as a micro-dose of powerful connection that will help point you in the right direction!
Read my manifesto for creative courage (free). Learn about the core principles of my creativity and follow in serial form the story of how I came to found Wordplay Coaching.
Inquiry of Writing, an intimate group coaching experience. We meet twice a month in sessions where we use writing as a tool for curiosity, exploration and transformation. Respond to powerful questions, in discussion and in writing; share your experience; get feedback on what you’ve written. Get the support and connection you need to gain clarity about your life and creativity, and develop your confidence. This is currently full but talk to me about joining the waiting list.
Creative Essence 1:1 coaching. Personal guidance to work with you on recognising your survival mechanisms and the fears that hold you back from your full expression. Twice-monthly deep dives on Zoom plus unlimited individualised support between sessions. This is ideal for you if you’re looking for deep transformation and powerful support to make changes in your life or with a creative project.