Exposing yourself to failure improves your ideas

How much pain are you willing to endure to make your ideas better?

When I did my PhD, there was no efficient way to exchange mathematical models. Because of that, collaborating with someone was so slow and costly that the most sensible decision was not to collaborate at all.

This problem was burning inside me. Inevitably, I started looking for a solution and, since I couldn’t find one, I created my own: a domain-specific language (DSL) to define mathematical models. This became one of my favorite contributions to my thesis. I even published a “compiler” for the DSL as a Python package and went on to run two workshops at conferences to teach people how to use it.

Everything seemed to be going well.

After defending my thesis, I was selected for a “best dissertation of the year” competition. I accepted. The process was that a jury would evaluate the merits (publications, impact, relevance, etc.) of all candidates to decide the winner. After the evaluation, there were two finalists. The winner was already decided, but to make the event more exciting and visible, they would announce it only after both of us presented our work.

In my presentation, I went over all the contributions of my thesis, but I especially highlighted the problem of model exchange and my solution.

During the Q&A, someone in the audience pointed out that using a DSL wasn’t the right approach. The worst part was: he was right. And to top it all off, I came in second.

It hurt.

Realizing you’re wrong hurts. But that piece of criticism was key — it made me let go of the DSL idea and turn toward the solution I’m working on now: a standard for defining mathematical models. A much simpler and more powerful solution.

Exposing yourself to failure hurts, but it’s necessary to improve.

I could have developed the DSL just for myself. I could have refused to give workshops. Even in the competition, I could have downplayed that part of my work. But I chose the opposite.

I chose to expose my ideas to the possibility of failure.

Is the standard the right solution? I believe so. But honestly, I don’t know. What I do know is that now I am less wrong than before. And that I’m willing to endure whatever pain and failure it takes to offer a good solution to this problem.

Because real failure is not being wrong, but living disconnected from reality.

Best,
Fernando Nóbel

P.S.: What failure hurt you, but made you better? Share it in the comments so I’m not the only one pouring my heart out here :^)