You’re Not a Failure…Yet

Clare Rushing
5 min readJan 15, 2024
Photo by Brett Jordan on Unsplash

In 2021, I published my first novel. It’s the first book in a high fantasy series and a project I’d been working on since 2017. Like so many writers who are wary of the practices of traditional publishers, I chose the indie route. I chose a publishing imprint, bought ISBNs through Bowker, commissioned a cover, did all the formatting on Atticus, and started building a small following on Instagram.

The early results were exciting. I sold 50+ books within the first few days and secured the #1 spot for newly published books in one of the Amazon categories. I was excited, nervous, accomplished. Most of those initial purchases were via word of mouth, friends and family and followers, as well as a modest number of organic purchases (sales that come directly from the website rather than your promotional efforts.

I knew I was in the long haul and that it takes at least 4 books to begin seeing a moderate return on your hard work in self-publishing. It didn’t phase me in the beginning. I was receiving good feedback and enough interest to drive me forward in writing book two.

I published the second book in my series exactly a year later. The turnout was smaller for a few reasons. 1) I didn’t promote as much, 2) Some of my readers still haven’t finished book one, and 3) …who knows? The publishing world is always changing, whether you’re going through traditional or independent channels. Sometimes people go viral and sometimes there are just crickets. The second launch was underwhelming despite the standard friends and family support (“congratulations!” “when is the signing?” “are you famous yet?”). Well meaning accolades and compliments without any real traction behind it.

Now my second book has been out for a few months and the sales are down to a trickle. Even as I’ve lamented over the discouraging results, I’m aware of what I did wrong —

  • I published book two without having three and four ready to publish and keep momentum going.
  • Again, not as much promotion. I got the ARC into readers’ hands only a month before the release and posted a few times to Instagram.
  • My following on social media is primarily authors who are supportive but also going through the same struggle and have very little time or energy to do read my work (which is fine!)
  • Readers who liked book one didn’t post reviews. I heard through word of mouth that they loved it, but getting reviews was like pulling teeth.
  • No paid promotions with sites like BookBub and Freebooksy.

There are a variety of other things I could have done, from partnering up with other authors to do giveaways to putting more effort into my newsletter, a chore I adamantly dislike.

After a couple months of lackluster response, I felt like a failure. I knew logically this isn’t the case, that my experience is similar to plenty of other new authors out there. Still, I was tired and burnt out and hating social media and wishing I had done things differently.

The thing is, I was still writing. The ideas kept coming and the words were there, even if it took some coaxing and planning and problem solving. I know where I want the series to go and what my characters will do — it’s just the publishing, the marketing, the review solicitation, the engagement with readers that is intimidating.

So I made a decision. Take a step back, stop promoting and crossing my fingers and cursing Amazon and focus on the writing instead. It’s not easy — my word count goal is going to take a very, very long time and that doesn’t include editing and all the eventual marketing I’ll have to do. But as soon as I decided to “give up”, I felt better. I felt relieved.

Sometimes we really truly fail. We pick up a trade or project and put energy into it and the results are so bad, we’re too disheartened to continue. This has happened to me plenty of times over the years as I attempted everything from crochet to becoming a freelance artist to learning German…I’ve picked up projects and hobbies and jobs only to abandon them after what was meant to be enriching became frustrating.

Failures like this can be difficult, especially if you excel in another trade or talent. After multiple failures, it begins to feel we’re inherently incapable of becoming skilled at something. You may do the research and read the instructions and put in your hours, but when the result is a chaotic mess or worse — you have nothing at all to show for your efforts — the idea of beginning a new project becomes that much more overwhelming.

For me, stepping away from social media and self-promotion has actually mitigated the feelings of failure. I’ve gotten struck with existential crisis a few times, but because I genuinely enjoy writing and my interest in completing the series hasn’t gone away, giving up for now has helped me to remember why I started writing in the first place — the joy of creating something out of nothing, no matter how rough the draft may be.

You may fail at a task or project, but that does not make you a failure. All that failing indicates is that you are a student, that you have more to learn and so much room for growth. When the idea of working 10,000 hours to master your craft feels like the worst thing in the world, it’s not because you’re incapable. It just means that maybe this particular skill isn’t actually something you want to do.

As trite as it sounds, the only way you can truly fail is to give up. And giving up isn’t inherently bad. Maybe I’m a failure at crochet…but it was never something I was particularly passionate about learning. Maybe I stink at learning languages, but the words and phrases I did learn gave me a better appreciation for language and culture in general. Failing in those things was part of the process of exploration — just as the mistakes I’ve made as an indie writer have given me a better idea of what not to do in the future.

Fear of failure can be paralyzing. But as they say: if you don’t try, how will you know whether you’re good at it? If you love the thing, keep doing the thing. Fail with confidence and enthusiasm. Fail and try again anyways.

It’s better to be a failure than to never have tried at all.

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Clare Rushing

Author of Magic and Goldfire, among other things. Full-time cryptid, part-time adult.