Celebrating Failure

This last week I found out I was not shortlisted for a prize. Looking at who the competition were I can see why I was passed over, not because I was less worthy, just because I don't look as good on paper. There were almost a thousand entries. I know no one read my manuscript. It wasn't the book they rejected it was me. And that was because I was not yet a safe bet. I'm okay with that.

I have come to embrace failure as an integral part of this process. As I told my writing students when I taught, "let them reject you. Don't do it for them." And I have no intention of letting anyone off. If you don't want me fine but I will put my hand up.

I think maybe this "can do" or really "don't care, just having a go" attitude was instilled in me as a child. My parents had enjoyed a very bright child before me, my sister Kate. She was reading at age 4 and was , by all accounts, a delight. I on the other hand would get frustrated and cry easily. At seven I still could not read.

My parents took me to be tested. Not dyslexia. Not ADD. Not anything with a name. But yes, something was wrong. and it was very wrong. My parents ignored all the evidence and told me that one day I would read and write as well as my sister. I had no evidence and so I believed them.

By age ten I could read a little. But my report cards were still blank for literacy. I was too bad to be graded. I was below a fail.

In the second term of year five, at eleven years old, I came home with a report card. my parents burst into tears of joy when they read it. I had gained a D- for English. I had officially failed. They were so thrilled that they called my Aunt and Uncle and both sets of Grandparents and we all went out to dinner to celebrate my wonderful fail.

Year later, in the same restaurant we were celebrating a 2A (83%) for my Honours. When I commented that I felt my parents were less impressed with this than my D- they laughed and agreed. Nothing I do will ever be as impressive to them as that fail. It was the start of my writing journey. It was the start of me finding my voice and my purpose. And I will always be grateful to them for showing me that the result doesn't matter anywhere near as much as the journey. It is really the showing up that counts.