Find the Fruit in Failure
Amanda Rooker
Internationally Bestselling Book Collaborator • Story Coach • Turn Your Idea Into Industry-Transforming Books and Talks • Learn How to Write, Publish, and Expand Impact
Can you think of a time when you experienced failure—in your career, a relationship, or any other area?
If so, do you view it as a positive learning experience—or a source of shame?
On my birthday this year, I posted my advice to my 10-year-younger self, as many do these days. The first draft of that post ended up being 2500 words which told me something more needed to be shared.
Here's one piece from the cutting room floor: facing failure, and finding the fruit.
Context recap: Ten years ago, my business was on fire. I had just gotten a literary agent, we were sponsoring book conferences in Los Angeles and flew out there twice a year, and my husband Ben had just quit his job to join me in solidifying all this growth and opportunity into a business that could support the family. At that point we had hired 10 contract editors, including a managing editor, to meet demand, and I was still feverishly working all hours to keep up with the client load.
Our two boys were 8 and 10, and were also at the height of activity, with soccer and football and homework and school projects and assemblies and celebrations.
Then, after I had presented on an alumni panel, my alma mater offered me an adjunct position and an opportunity to develop a professional writing course at William and Mary that would become part of the English department’s permanent offerings.
As you can probably guess, at the time I believed saying yes to every opportunity was always right. Not only did I have to say yes to everything everyone wanted, I needed to do it perfectly. After all, I had figured out how to do seemingly impossible things before; surely I could do it again. And again. And again.
So when a top-tier university asks you to create and teach a writing course on top of being a more-than-full-time company principal, life partner, and mother, you don’t consider your bandwidth. You say yes.
I used my one yearly week of vacation with my family to write the syllabus. I drove home and back one of those days to attend orientation and get my parking pass. And I hoped for the best.
Even Chocolate Didn't Help
As for teaching the course itself, I cannot think of any other word to describe it except failure. I simply did not have the bandwidth to prepare and show up well. I did my best, but the poor reviews received at the end of the semester were spot on.
In my end-of semester debrief, the department head (whom, by the way, I had known from my days as a student) and I talked about next steps.
“There is some positive feedback here,” he said, scrolling through the students’ reviews, brightening a bit. Then he sighed again. “But most of them are complaints.”
I tried to explain. “I didn't expect to have this hard of a time balancing everything,” I said. “I know I didn't show up well.”
He asked me if I wanted to teach the course again. I said no, I didn't think so.
“Well,” he said, “we would like to continue it. There's another professor who has a journalism background who can probably take it over.”
He offered his hand. “Just let me know if you'd ever like to try again.”
“I will,” I said.
There must have been something in my expression that revealed how I felt, because he looked at me intently with empathy, or maybe pity. Then he saw a Godiva chocolate bar sitting on his desk.
“Here,” he said. “Have some chocolate.”
I took the chocolate bar and finished it before I got to my car. But it didn't touch the black hole of scalding emptiness consuming me from the inside out.
The Bigger Story
I kept completing project after project and attending activity after activity. I was everywhere and yet nowhere.
Friendships disappeared. My sister passed away suddenly. I kept overscheduling myself.
Ben was endlessly loyal, but my overwork was taking its toll.
“I know you love me,” he said, “but I just don't feel it.”
Still my behavior didn't change. Work always took priority over everything else.
It wasn't as if work was miserable. In fact, it was highly meaningful: I had the privilege of working with incredibly gifted people on what mattered most to them, and helping them figure out how to share it in a way that made a positive impact on others at scale. My client relationships were incredibly fulfilling. In fact, I considered them my friends - my only friends.
Our kids got their driver’s licenses, and then moved into college.
In the eerie calm of the empty nest, I finally saw it—a 20-year blur of workaholism. When I could see the larger story that had been writing my work life, my teaching experience fell into place.
Even though from the outside, that earlier time of growth and activity might have looked like one of the best times in my life, I could now admit it was one of the worst.
Teaching the course was my rock bottom. Why? Because I was at the height of my addiction to work. I couldn't see it. I'm sure those around me could see it, but if they tried to tell me, I couldn't hear it.
Only now am I able to see that this rock-bottom moment was also incredibly fruitful, because it was providing undeniable evidence that the way I was living was not working. It just took me a while to realize it.
How to Find the Fruit in Failure
You've likely heard that our greatest gifts are found in our greatest challenges. But when those challenges include outright failure, how do we find the strength to even face the failure, much less dig deep enough to unearth the gifts?
If you're still feeling the black hole of failure in your life, here are some ways I've learned to empower yourself to find the fruit.
1. Don’t jump to the lessons too quickly.
One chapter of your life is not the whole story. Immediately after my teaching experience, I knew what my lesson was. It was multiple variations of the same theme, all with the same conclusion: I am never teaching again. But that was pain talking, not wisdom. And that leads us to #2.
2. Allow yourself time, space, and kindness to face the pain.
This is easier said than done. For me, it wasn't pretty. Shame was my primary emotion, and hiding was my primary tactic. I simply wanted to pretend it never happened. But the fact that it happened at my alma mater 30 minutes from my town meant that every alumni event invitation and every road sign leading to campus were daggers in the heart. There was nothing to do but simply experience it.
3. Recognize humility as the fruit.
Looking back, I think the most valuable lesson I learned was humility. I'm not sure I had ever failed quite so visibly before, and it wasn't that I wasn't capable of failing. It was that I had not put myself in situations that allowed me to fail. Interesting. That's also when I began to notice others sharing their stories of failure and what they had learned from it, which taught me that failure isn't something to be ashamed of; it's simply human.
4. When looking for lessons, take the long view.
Putting your failures in the context of their proper story is so important. It took ten years for me to see the story in which this experience played a pivotal role. It wasn't teaching per se that was the issue; it was the way I was making decisions in my life. I'm deep in the process of tracing the threads of that story as we speak, and weaving it into a new story of balance, joy, relationships, creativity, healing, and service. Now that I've learned to recognize my own yes and my own no, who knows? Teaching may be part of this future story.
Fortunately, failure doesn’t have to last forever. If you give it space, kindness, and the right care, fruit comes in its own time. And when it does, you’ll have a valuable gift to offer others—and transform your failure into gold.
I help leaders and experts write books at the intersection of their deepest purpose and their readers' deepest needs. If you're thinking about writing a book, I'd love to connect.
I offer two programs to empower entrepreneurs, coaches, consultants, and expert practitioners to share their message with those who need it most.
Business Financing Expert & Profit Coach | Financial Forecasting, Budgeting, Cash Flow, & Debt Management | Helping Entrepreneurs Become Numbers Confident | Owner, 3P Consulting | Board Member | Speaker
3moThis is so good Amanda Rooker. Thanks for sharing your story and these valuable insights. I like the saying, "Your mess is your message."
freelance writer and editor
3moYou offer some great advice here! Thanks!