Every author has a manuscript they will never publish. Every main character grapples with challenges as they travel through their story. Both in fiction and in the real world, mistakes are unavoidable. But they’re also one of the best ways for us to grow. Mistakes help our characters discover who they need to become by the end of the book, and they help us find our voices, shape our businesses, and perfect the stories we put into the world. In this installment of her guest series, book coach Rona Gofstein reminds authors that success won’t always happen the first time—but even failure can be a good thing, if you look at it the right way.
Most of us have been trained to think of mistakes we make as writers as a bad thing, from starting the book in the wrong spot to not giving our characters enough agency. But the truth is mistakes aren’t only necessary; they can be helpful—both for us and for our characters.
As a book coach, I often hear questions like:
- “What if I choose the wrong point of view?”
- “What if I waste months on a project that doesn’t work?”
- “What if I’m not clear on what is driving my character and what they need?”
These questions come from a vulnerable place every writer has felt, whether they are working on their first book or their tenth. We want to do well. We want to avoid pain, skip the mistakes, and get straight to success.
Unfortunately, that’s not how writing works. In fact, I’d argue that mistakes are not only inevitable; they’re essential. But mistakes are also fixable with time, further writing, or an outside perspective, be it a fellow author, an editor, a beta reader, or yes, a book coach.
As writers, we often view mistakes as evidence that we’re failing. But most of the time, they’re evidence that we’re learning, growing, and improving.
Maybe you started writing a book and realized halfway through that your story isn’t actually about the character you thought it was. Maybe you spent weeks outlining only to lose your inspiration and realize you’re a discovery writer at heart. Maybe you wrote an entire draft, then decided it would never see the light of day. Every writer I know has!
Were these mistakes? Perhaps. But they were also information.
Every writing choice teaches us something. Every wrong turn reveals a new path. Every abandoned draft helps us better understand our voice, our process, our strengths, and the stories we most want to tell.
And mistakes aren’t just important for us. Our characters need to make them too. There needs to be friction in the fiction, or your characters won’t grow, learn, or change.
Think about your favorite novels. Chances are the protagonist doesn’t make perfect decisions from page 1. They stumble. They trust the wrong person. They run away when they should stay. They stay when they should leave. At the midpoint, they still haven’t learned what they needed, and they face a setback on their journey. In the dark moment of Act 3, they must trust what they’ve learned and believe in their goal, despite the mistakes they’ve made along the way, or there will be no victory. And that’s exactly why you kept turning the pages.
Characters who always make the right choice are not only difficult to relate to or root for; they’re also boring. Growth happens when actions have consequences, when a character discovers that their old beliefs no longer serve them, and when they fail, regroup, and try again.
Readers don’t connect with perfection. They connect with humanity. The mistakes your characters make are often the engine that drives the story forward.
Your mistakes can do the same—on and off the page. The course you signed up for that didn’t meet your expectations may help you clarify what kind of learning works best for you. The book you wrote that will never get published may contain lessons that make your next book stronger. And when you take the time to figure out what’s not working in your draft, you’ll learn more about what your story needs. Maybe it just needs your character to make a mistake.
When we stop treating mistakes as proof that we’re doing something wrong and start viewing them as part of the creative process, we become more willing to experiment, take risks, and, hopefully, keep going. So if you’re staring at a writing mistake today, consider a different possibility. Maybe it isn’t a dead end. Maybe it’s a doorway. And maybe the thing you’re learning right now is something you couldn’t have discovered any other way.
