The One About Failure

I did my biggest interview ever last week and then spiraled into a neurotic puddle of terror and self-loathing. Let's talk about failure.

Lately, I’ve been talking about what I call The Bigger Yes, and why we turn away from it. The first reason I identified is fear of pain; the second is fear of disapproval. Today, I’m talking about fear of failure.

I had a set plan of how I was going to write about this, but then I had an experience last week, and, well: change of plans! I want to tell you about this, even if it doesn’t speak to all the things I hoped to say about the fear of failure.

The big interview.

Last week, I had what was probably the biggest media opportunity of my career to date. Technically, there may have been bigger moments in terms of audience: a piece in the New York Times, national TV, but this felt bigger (and it may actually be; I don’t know). It was definitely the most emotionally invested I’ve ever been.

(Note: I’m not being coy or purposefully elusive by not saying which show it is. I’m not saying because I’m not sure I’m supposed to, but also because weird shit happens sometimes and episodes don’t get aired. If it comes out, you’ll be the first to know, and if I find out it’s not going to, I’ll tell you anyway.)

I was very excited to be on. Semi-nervous, but mostly excited. I prepped, but not too much, as I didn’t want to sound rehearsed. I knew some of the key messages I wanted to hit and had a prep call with my publisher. I’ve done hundreds of interviews at this point, and just a couple of weeks ago, I’d given a live talk to four hundred people and felt as confident and comfortable as ever. I got nine hours of sleep the night before the interview, worked out hard that morning, and even put a Post-it note on my monitor that said, I AM THE ADULTS IN THE ROOM, to remind myself that I really do know what I’m talking about when it comes to my work, and that I was coming on the show as an equal, not some impostor/fangirl/child. I meditated. I put on a whole outfit and did my hair and makeup. All in all, I put myself in as good a place as possible before we hit record. I felt ready.

As soon as we came on camera (it was on Zoom), adrenaline shot through my body. I could feel my neck and chest get hot. My voice went high and shaky. It took about thirty minutes before I felt like I was remotely in my body.

We talked for two hours, as planned. (P.S. Two hours is a very long time to bathe in adrenaline.)