When Failure is Actually Success

The Experiment moves into phase 2

“The first draft of anything is shit.”

―Ernest Hemingway

Almost a year ago, back in April 2023, I launched a new novel-writing project, The Experiment.

The reasons for doing this were simple. I am a writer first and foremost. Yet, mainly through Compendia, I am also someone who talks about writing, and tries to encourage and support other writers, published or not. The Experiment was a way to bridge that gap, to both write and teach, this time by example.

The way it would work, I thought, was simple. I would write a novel, in real time, and share my first, working draft, chapter by chapter, for free, right here on my Substack. Furthermore, right from the off I would be asking you, my readers, for input when it came to themes, settings, character and even plot. And I would talk about any struggles I was having or difficulties I was encountering in a series of behind-the-scenes posts.

The reasons for doing this were several. I have always believed that, in most cases at least, first drafts are rough. (An opinion I share with Ernest Hemingway, no less, as well as almost all of my writer friends and colleagues). I often tell people that the first draft of Before I Go to Sleep was a long way from the version that was eventually published — in fact I’d estimate anything up to 60 percent of it was actually written during the various stages of editing. Yet I’m not sure whether people truly believe me.

Why is this? I’ve long believed that the irony of writing is that, when it hits the spot, it feels so perfect, so right for whatever scene or emotion it’s trying to convey, that it’s hard to imagine it’s anything other than a first draft. When we look at a wonderful painting or listen to a virtuoso pianist or watch a dancer, we know we are in the presence of greatness, we can see the hours and hours of practice and learning that’s gone into creating the piece of art we’re fortunate enough to be experiencing. Not so with writing. When we open Nineteen Eighty-Four and read “It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen”, it feels like such a simple — if brilliant — opening sentence that it’s impossible to consider that Orwell ever started the book in another way.

Yet he almost certainly did. As did I with Before I Go to Sleep (and yeah, I’m not comparing myself to Orwell, okay?), and (almost) every other writer did with their books. So what better way, I figured, to demonstrate (and we’re all fans of showing not telling, right?) that first drafts are rough and ragged, than to share one of my own?

I knew it’d be tough. Another thing I truly believe is that first drafts are not meant for public consumption. A writer must feel free to write badly, if they are ever going to reach that place where they’re writing well. And knowing that someone is going to read it is a surefire way to stamp out that devil-may-care attitude we must have if we’re going to take risks.

But I had another, more selfish, motive, too. By asking my readers to come up with some of the ideas, or some of the starting points at least, then I suspected I’d end up writing something quite different. I felt it might be a way to push myself in a different direction, as long as I could just get over the reticence I’d inevitably feel on posting material in such a raw state.

And so, I began. The plan was that I would publish a new chapter every two weeks. I called it The Experiment because (as I say in this early behind-the-scenes post) “… I don’t know how it’s going to go. It might all just prove too much, and I might fail (which… can also be a kind of success, right?), fall either at the first hurdle or six weeks in. But on the other hand.. what if I succeed? Maybe a book will come out of this project, maybe not. That’s not really the point. My hope is that when this is done, at the very least, I’ll have learnt something, and hopefully you the people who are joining me on this project, will have done so too.”

Well. Almost a year later, I wrote just five chapters. And so, it’s time for me to look at why...

So… how did it go?

Well. Almost a year later, I wrote just five chapters. And the most recent of those was back in October. And, to be honest, I think that’s kind of it. I don’t think I have any more of that story in me.

The story has died, through neglect. So, I owe it to my readers, and to myself, to look at why that is.

I think, perhaps ironically, I overestimated how difficult I’d find it to share my first drafts, yet underestimated the impact of letting readers influence the story.

Taking the first part — once I’d actually opened the document and sat down to work, the writing was the easy part. And once I’d written, I found it weirdly easy to press ‘Upload’. I’d talked often enough about how bad the draft was going to be, after all, and I didn’t feel like I was going to be judged. This was something we were all in together, after all.

The problem was that I found it surprisingly hard to open the document in the first place.

So, why was that? My theory is that because the character and scenes had been suggested by other people, I didn’t feel invested in them. They didn’t feel real to me, and I’m not sure I really cared about what happened to them. So, every Friday (my self-designated ‘Experiment Day’), when faced with the choice of either opening that document, or the one containing the other novel I was working on (and have just finished), I would always, ALWAYS, want to go for the latter, and more often than not, that's exactly what I did.

(It occurs to me here that the issue may not have actually been to do with the fact that elements of the story had been suggested by other people, but instead down to the fact I was trying to work on two novels at once. I'm not sure that's possible, or at least I'm not sure it's possible to be writing two novels at one time. It may be possible to be writing one whilst planning another, or even writing one, planning another and editing a third. But I don't know whether it's possible to be writing two simultaneously.)

So, has The Experiment failed?

Well, as regular readers will know, I'm a big fan of defining success according to your own terms. Of course, I'd hoped to get a novel out of this project, and that hasn't happened. However, I've learnt some things. Not least of which is that sharing a first draft is easier than I thought, but writing one based on other people’s ideas is much more difficult. I've also learnt that it's harder than I anticipated to be writing two novels at the same time.

I would also hope that those who have been following The Experiment have gained something, at least. Hopefully witnessing someone who has written a bestselling novel struggling has at least made you realise that I wasn’t joking, when I said it was tough, and that some projects simply don't work. One of the most important lessons, we can learn —  as writers, as creative people — is to know when to cut our losses.

So, what’s next for The Experiment?

Going forward, I've decided to slightly shift the focus of the experiment, whilst hopefully keeping it true to my original intention of sharing the trials and tribulations of writing a book.

I am always writing something, after all. Or editing something. And so, my plan is that from now on, I will let you all bear witness as I write and publish my next project. I intend to keep the same mix of behind-the-scenes posts and uploads of the work itself. The plan is to give you a glimpse of what's going on in my head as I write, whilst also sharing some of whatever I'm writing, whether that be first drafts or material I'm in the middle of editing.

So, do I need to pay?

No. But also yes. Let me explain…

In The Experiment v1.0, the material itself was free, but the behind-the-scenes posts were for paying subscribers only.

Going forward, my plan is to mix this up a little bit more. Some of the material will be free, but some (the stuff I'm less sure about, perhaps?) will be behind the paywall. But the flipside is that not all of the behind-the-scenes posts will be locked.

Basically, my plan is to give some decent stuff away, but anyone who wants the full story will need to upgrade to being a paying subscriber.

A note on price

The cost of upgrading your subscription is now fixed. I've settled on the lowest price I can, a level below which I cannot justify the time it takes me to write Compendia and share my work this way. For that reason, I will not be offering any further special offers, for the foreseeable future at least.

That said, I have made it significantly cheaper for those choosing to subscribe for a year in advance.

I do hope you’ll join me

I'm actually tremendously excited about this development. The nature of my work means that I discard a lot of material. "Kill your darlings,” they say. I guess my plan is to not kill them, but share them. It feels just as scary, though in a different way. I do hope you'll join me!

Steve