- The Friendly Artist
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- Befriending Failure
Friends, it’s been a tough week in the self-published world.
I’m learning tons but struggling tons, too.
The cool thing about self-publishing is you get to decide everything about your book, the launch, and the marketing. The tricky thing about self-publishing is all of those are your responsibility and only YOUR responsibility. So when things go well, you can pat yourself on the back. When things go wrong, there’s no one to blame but yourself.
It’s a pretty intense ride.
I’ve had some cool wins recently:
Sold more books this week than any week since the pre-order started (join the club here).
I finally finished the Spotify playlist that goes with the book
I got the boxes with 152 copies of my book
I finished the main choreography for the book launch on September 23rd.
Delivered the first two books to friends who were about to leave the country
I got my book accepted into a bookstore for the first time - Antigua Books, in Antigua Guatemala.
These are all encouraging, exciting, and scary.
And then, my failures:
Overall, I’ve sold less books in the pre-order than I expected
Miscalculated the costs of food and wine for the launch in relation to the ticket price
I haven’t finished sending invites, and it feels like the event is tomorrow
My solo choreography for the launch isn’t done - and we’re less than two weeks away
Cried from stress many times
I realized a poem was missing and had to add it to the book late, with many complications implied in it.
I felt I had no clue what I was doing (about a million times)
I’ve felt my mistakes, miscalculations, and failures weigh on me day after day.
Self-compassionate ideas
But on Monday night, after a particularly stressful crisis-filled day, I reminded myself of a few essential things:
This is my first time doing this ever.
That being said, the point isn’t to be a massive success right now. That’s never been the goal.
The point IS to fail. To fall, crash, burn, and learn.
The purpose of trying hard and failing at some is to practice.
If I fail badly at this, I know what to avoid to fail less in the next book.
So basically, of course I have blind spots. I’ve never published a book. I’ve never made an event this big before. I’ve never done any of it!
And while I’m blessed to have good support and good advisors as I do it, it’s impossible to think I’ll do it perfectly. It would be rather unfair.
I can still fix some of the mistakes and failures listed above. And for some, it may be too late to fix them how I’d prefer. But I can always adjust.
Something I think about for consolation
I love the Serenity Prayer, the one taught to people recovering from addiction:
God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I can’t change, the courage to change the things I can’t, and the wisdom to know the difference.
I’m not religious, but I love how it’s phrased. That’s what I want to embody right now.
I had plans for the event I’ll inevitably have to change and adjust. There are ideas I had that are proving to be impossible with the time and resources I have. I need to accept that.
Some things feel challenging and stressful, but I can still do something about them. I need to do something about them.
And I need to learn to differentiate them to keep my sanity.
The attitude I want to face this with
And more importantly, I need to do the best I humanly can.
That’s one of the lessons in the book “The Four Agreements.”
The Author says if you always do your best, you’ll never regret it. You won’t blame yourself if things go wrong; you’ll be at peace with your efforts. You know you did your absolute best. There was nothing you could’ve done differently.
That’s also what I’m trying to be.
If I do my absolute best, and some things still don’t go as I’d like them to, I’m left with the certainty I did everything in my hands. I gave it my all.
And when you act from this place, failure is nothing but a teacher: it shows us how to try differently next time. But it doesn’t tell us to try harder because, in terms of effort, we didn’t fail.
A note for artists who want to share their work
Putting your art in front of others, trying hard, and being seen is terrifying.
But the fear and possible failure are worth bearing for the certainty that you’re doing what you want, trusting yourself to jump even though you don’t know where you’ll fall.
It’s hard to believe in your art: in its quality, viability, and likability. I would know. I’ve spent countless nights doubting myself in this process.
It’s scary to be seen, to show such vulnerability to others. To say, “Hey, I’ve bared my soul here, everyone come see!” Our art is such a personal thing. We want to keep our hearts and our creations safe.
Maybe we were shamed for them, taught to keep them secret.
But the best mindset to embody, in my experience, is that of a small child showing a drawing they just made with wax crayons, asking to be pinned to the refrigerator. Proud of what we made. Not even because it’s good, but because we made it.
Art connects us with ourselves and others. And sharing it is scarier than anything I’ve ever done but more rewarding, too.
Give it a chance. You might be surprised.
A note on preorders
I’m closing pre-orders on September 18th, so five days from now.
The preparation for the launch is very intense, and a part of that is preparing every preorder.
Preorders are all signed and personally dedicated to each reader. They include a bookmark (from the book, ofc) and a free print with a poem (aside from some really cool packaging, if I do say so myself.)
I do need to clarify I can only offer those extras in orders coming from Guatemala and the United States due to delivery issues.
If you have any other questions about preorders, feel free to hit reply, and I’ll gladly help you out.
I hope for the rest of your week, you can embrace failure like an old friend. I hope you find yourself amazed at how your plants have kept growing, even if slowly. I hope you feel like that kid who shamelessly shows what they’ve created.
Sending you the biggest hug,
-Vale, The Friendly Artist.