To paraphrase a famous quote (I think about light bulb invention), “Every failure teaches you a little more about what doesn’t work, and gets you a little closer to discovering what does.” In other words, you probably have to fail a few times to work out what success is or how to succeed.
How does this work with writing? It’s not quite so simple, I suspect. It’s why teaching creative writing is a lot different from teaching, say, plumbing. In plumbing a teacher can tell a student to join two pipes together, and if the join leaks, it can easily be pointed out why it failed. Then the student tries again (and maybe again) until they know how to do it successfully.
In teaching a student about writing a short story, there are a number of skills that can be learned. How a story works, structure, characterization, good dialogue, setting and description etc. The student can write a competent (or not so competent) story. But if the story isn’t really good, if readers don’t enjoy it or engage with it, that’s where the real work begins. You could say the story “failed”. Or you could say the story didn’t “fail” in some ways, but overall it didn’t “work”. Then other people, like family, might read it and love it, simply because they love the person who wrote it.
See how “failing” at writing starts to get really muddy?
I think the issue is in relying only on the audience or reader/s to determine failure. In a class, the teacher should be experienced enough to be able to tell the student where the story fails, why, and – most importantly – give suggestions on how to improve it. To get it closer to “not failing”, closer to publication perhaps.
But really failure begins with the writer. Acknowledging that we begin from a place of failure. As long as the story is just in our heads, we avoid failing. As soon as we put it on the page, we have to understand that we have very likely “failed” to write it as we imagined it. That’s where a lot of other writing skills have to come into play.
The first is reading as a writer. If you read critically, you learn how and why other writers’ stories succeed or fail (or partially fail). It might be plot holes, shallow characters, poor dialogue. The more you can pinpoint these through your analysis, the more you learn. I can’t tell you how many writing students either don’t read enough or don’t read widely and critically. We see examples of critical analysis in other areas, such as coaches who analyse how other players and teams work, and writing is the same, if not more so.
Then you have to learn to read your own work critically, and work out what is wrong and how to fix it. This is incredibly hard. Being in a good workshop group can help. But mostly it is about understanding that your first draft will have “failed” in some way, if not many ways, and then tackling revision from that starting point. It requires faith that you can do it, faith that despite the time it will take, you’ll eventually succeed, or at least get closer to success. And belief that every revision will teach you to see what wasn’t working.
That’s why writing is a craft, more than a special gift or talent. I’ve seen many talented writers in my classes over the years. I can count on one hand those who have persevered, learned from their failures and reached a level of major success. And many more who have succeeded and been published because they kept going, kept learning and kept moving forward.