One of the questions I get asked most often is: how do I accept failure? We all understand, in theory, that failure is how we learn. But most of us are deeply programmed to avoid it, especially failing in public.
Last week, I was at a talk by Richard Dawkins. At one point, he mentioned how the word meme is now used in a much broader sense than he ever intended when he coined it. It made me think of another word whose meaning has drifted over time: error.
Today, we use error as a synonym for mistake: something to be ashamed of, something to fix and forget. But for scientists, an error is simply the gap between prediction and outcome. It carries no moral weight. It’s just information.
The etymology of the word actually traces it back to the Latin noun meaning “a wandering about” or “a straying,” from the verb errare – to roam or drift. So an error really is just a detour. And every detour is an opportunity to explore new territory.
Once you understand this, your relationship with failure starts to shift. You stop asking “how do I avoid errors?” and start asking “what is this error telling me?” The gap between what you expected and what actually happened becomes the most interesting part of any project – the place where learning lives.
Here’s how you can make friends with error:
Formulate a hypothesis before trying something new. This is how you create healthy room for error. When you make a prediction, you create the possibility of a gap between expectation and outcome, and it’s by examining that gap that you learn. No prediction means no gap means no lesson.
Ask yourself what margin for error you actually have. Some projects have small margins; others have generous ones. Sending a rocket to space is not the same as launching a newsletter. Knowing your margin should inform how boldly you experiment, and you’ll often find the margin is bigger than you assumed.
Create opportunities for error. Deliberately put yourself in situations where you don’t know what the outcome will be, where you can make an informed prediction but can’t be sure. This turns uncertainty from a threat into a playground, and gives you a more playful way to relate to the unknown.
A great way to do all three is to run tiny experiments: small, low-stakes trials with a clear hypothesis and a set duration. Try posting once a day for two weeks and see what happens. Test a new morning routine for ten days. The stakes are low, and the errors become data instead of disappointments.
Lastly, consider sharing this reframe with the people around you, whether that’s your children, your friends, or your colleagues. Most of us were trained to treat errors as things to hide. Imagine how differently we’d all work and learn if we treated them as things to examine together.
We have no idea what the future holds. That’s precisely why making friends with error matters: it frees you to make bolder predictions, take more interesting detours, and learn faster than the people still trying never to be wrong.