We don’t talk enough about failure. Not the big, dramatic kind, but the quieter, everyday kind that shows up when a project you’ve poured your heart into fizzles out. It’s discouraging. It can feel like proof that maybe you weren’t meant to be creative after all.
But here’s the truth: failure isn’t the opposite of success. It’s part of the process. And sometimes, what looks like a dead end is really just a detour toward something richer.
Every Project Teaches Us Something
Not every project becomes the next great novel, business, or TV show. But every project teaches us something. Even the ones that don’t “go anywhere” leave behind skills, practice, and lessons we carry forward.
The creators of Ted Lasso know this well. They had other projects that didn’t take off, pilots that never aired, and scripts that never got past the pitch. But the work wasn’t wasted. Each effort sharpened their skills, deepened their creativity, and built the trust and relationships that eventually brought Ted Lasso to life.
The same is true for all of us.
My Own “Failed” Story
When my children were little—before they went to school, when I was home all day and starved for adult conversation—I wrote a story. It was fantasy, full of magic, romance, and all the things I loved escaping into. I wrote more than 100,000 words.
And then I stopped.
It was fanfiction, and I felt embarrassed by it. I told myself I’d write “real” stories instead. But I didn’t. Not despite all the NaNoWriMos I signed up for, the writing group I started, the books I read, or the endless ways I talked about wanting to be a writer.
Looking back, I see where I failed: I stopped having fun. I let shame steal the joy from my writing. And without joy, the work fell flat.
It took me years to find my way back. But lately, I’ve returned to that very story. I’ll never share it—it’s laughably terrible in so many ways—but I am having fun again. I rediscovered the spark that first made me love writing. And that’s worth everything.
Resilience Is Built Through the Hard Stuff
Failure hurts. But it also shapes us. Each unfinished project, each setback, teaches resilience—not as in “powering through” but in being gentle with ourselves when things don’t turn out as we hoped.
That gentleness is what Ted Lasso himself embodies. He loses games, he gets knocked down, he struggles. But he never stops showing up, and he never stops believing in the possibility of something better.
Connections Matter More Than Outcomes
Another gift of “failed” projects is the people we meet along the way. Collaborators, writing partners, critique groups—sometimes those connections last longer than the project itself. And sometimes, they become the very team we need for the next success.
Just like the Ted Lasso creators built something remarkable by talking, brainstorming, and trusting each other, our own creative paths are enriched when we share them with others.
Seeds for the Next Success
Unfinished stories, half-done paintings, abandoned drafts—they’re not wasted. They’re seeds. Pieces of them will show up in your next work, and the next, often in surprising ways.
That fantasy fanfiction I wrote years ago? Even if no one else reads it, it’s feeding my current writing. The characters, the energy, even the mistakes—it all matters. Nothing is wasted.
Keep Creating
Failure isn’t the end of the story. It’s just part of the journey. Every project—finished or not—teaches, shapes, and prepares us for what comes next.
So if you’ve set something aside, don’t feel ashamed. Don’t tell yourself it was wasted. And if joy feels far away, maybe it’s time to circle back to what first made you fall in love with creating.
Because sometimes, the measure of success isn’t the applause at the end. It’s the fun we have along the way.
As Ted might say: keep showing up. Keep trying. And above all, believe.
This blog post was created with assistance from ChatGPT, an AI developed by OpenAI. The ideas and perspectives are my own, but I used ChatGPT to support the writing, editing, and refinement process.
Rose Sparrowking 