Fail. Fail Better.

This weekend I had the privilege of attending Daniel David Wallace's Find Your Next Reader Summit. My head went mushy with the massive onslaught of ideas and facts. But after two days of reflection, a few things remain at the forefront of that mushy mind.

Throughout the entire weekend, I got brilliant reviews on different platforms. Instagram, Tiktok, Substack, X, Bluesky, websites... Each speaker gave their perfect schedule: do it daily, weekly, bi-weekly, monthly, create monthly, but send out on schedule, don't bother with schedules, only do it sporadically to keep your audience guessing... And brilliant seminars on branding, and connection and collaboration.

All of them were fascinating, but, as I said, I was going mushy-brained.

Which brings me to my first forefront thought from a specific class, "Recipe for Marketing" by Kim Poovey. 

Though she, too, spoke of each of the above, she brought in a rather insightful metaphor. She placed the specific platforms as "ingredients." Placed the schedules as "measurements." And branding, collaboration, etc. as "techniques." Then declared each author as having their own personal recipe. No two people like the same toppings on their pizza, and nothing works the same for every author. There is no "one" right way.

This was such a simple yet profound metaphor I'm seeing its similarities throughout other aspects of my life.

My mother is a devout Christian. My husband is a rather agnostic pragmatist. I love them both dearly, and can see their points. And simplifying it down, I can see that she likes everything pizza, and he likes meatlovers.

I think sometimes we need to remember that there isn't a right way to live. That we all get to personalize our own pizza.

The second follows a theme that I have clung to continually for the past two years, but seem to always need reminding of. It's the title of this blog.

"Fail. Fail better." Margaret Atwood said in her masterclass, which I've learned was from:

"Ever tried. Ever failed. No Matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better." - Samuel Beckett, from Worstward Ho.

I've been writing short stories as giveaways and incentives for my readers to sign up for my newsletter. They highlight moments in small character's lives. (If you haven't, be sure to sign up on my website for these they're fun!)

Because I'm me, I wanted to put some sort of little cover with them, even though they're freebies.

The first cover I created, I loved. Talaina turned out beautifully, and while my graphic design was a little... outdated, it worked. This second one from Changes: Braedon's Story, is another matter.

I don't love the art, though it's I pictured in my head. It also looks a little ::blushes:: inappropriate to me. It doesn't reflect the way water should; I'd like it to look more real. Fail.

Though the title is clear, it looks more like a soft romance. Fail.

The fonts are fine... but don't pop the way I'd like them to, and I couldn't figure out what to do with it to make it better. Fail.

It has sat on my digital shelf waiting for nearly two months to be uploaded in my Mailerlite freebies alongside the rather good story it goes with because of my fear.

Because I am afraid to fail.

I've long been a believer that you hear things when you are meant to hear them. During this summit, one speaker (forgive me for not remembering which of the classes or speakers it was) said something like, "If you're afraid of putting it out there for failure, so what if it does? How many have you failed in front of? Two hundred? Three? Two thousand? Three? Ten thousand? Twenty? What if in two years you can look back at this failure and see how much you've grown, instead?"

Right now, my blog has had one whole reader (Thank you, whomever you are. My heartbeat flutters just thinking about you!) and my mailing list has four names on it - friends and family who are striving to be supportive. My Instagram reaches a few dozen. I've been too afraid to sign up for others.

So today I'm uploading Changes: Braedon's Story, to my mailer. In a few weeks time, my readers can get this freebie in their inbox. Maybe they'll roll their eyes at the dastardly cover, or maybe they'll go, "that's a pretty blue." Maybe it won't be opened by anyone. Or maybe it will, and they'll have fun seeing this "prequel" moment to the novels.