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Hey, all. This is Robin Taylor from the SmallStack Team. Today’s post is extremely personal, and so you might notice that no other Team members are bylining with me. That’s because this post, in some ways, is for them, too. And it’s for you. It’s even just a little bit for me. With our Library and all the activities around Launch Week just two weeks away, this is an important moment to sit together and talk about the scariest thing each of us might face at one point or another in our lives—failure.
When I set out to create SmallStack, I didn’t have any idea what it would look like several months—let alone weeks—later, and it was really just a whim that made me pick an arbitrary month to say that I’d be opening the Library for everyone to use. I did not know how long it would really take to put it together. I didn’t know what it would look like or how it would function. I hadn’t even picked an application or platform to host it. Maybe you think when you hear me say, “I started this thing on a whim, and it was just an idea in my head,” that I’m blowing smoke. Rest assured, that is exactly how things went.
I had no plan.
But what I lacked in concrete, actionable steps I more than made up for with passion and idealism. And you were part of that. You still are. You all gathered alongside me to help form the edges and definitions of this project (whether you know you did that work or not). You showed up in those early days with words and acts of encouragement. You have demonstrated just how supportive this community can be.
So what happens when I fail you?
Maybe we should define what that failure looks like, you and I. It could come in many different shapes.
Perhaps during Launch Week you click on this new Library, and you search through it to find yourself (no shame, we all want to find ourselves, right?), and your listing isn’t there.
Maybe the site crashes (I have bad dreams about this one for sure).
And if you do actually find your listing, what happens if some aspect of it isn’t quite right or needs to change?
It would be irresponsible for me not to have thought about each of those scenarios and more. And they all might happen. Because these kinds of failures are part of the process of learning, growing, designing, and building. In all honesty, I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I know that something will break, something will go wrong, something will fail.
Responsibility can exist in a lot of places. It’s part of the social contract that ties us together in communities, and it exists here, too. But it’s here because we built it together. I’m responsible for showing up, for being honest, for expressing my limitations, and for caring about this community of amazing people.
I’m also responsible for caring very deeply about the ten wonderful volunteers who have become such good friends over the last few months. One of my lessons in creating SmallStack was to ask for help from others, and they’ve given so much more to me than I could ever reciprocate. They’ve immersed themselves in challenges and shown up to support each other even when it was hard. They’ve learned new skills and mentored one another (and me). They have apologized for their shortcomings and consistently failed to see just how much they’ve given freely of themselves, vastly overshadowing any perceived lack of time or skill or dedication. They have spoken up for you, our community, every single day. And I would be remiss if I didn’t tell you that they have built beautiful things!
In the midst of considering what failure looks like, I have begun to understand that the kind of failure I worried about at first simply doesn’t exist anymore.
You see, we have already succeeded.
We have taken in 1,878 listings for our Library, and even if they are not all ready by Launch Week, we’ll have them incorporated soon. I have walked (virtually) through these listings many times, and I know what an amazing structure
has built there. I am in awe of their skill and talent and their giving heart. We’ve published eight Guest Posts with outstanding creators, and their words and voices come through clear and bright from the diligent editorial labor of , , , , , and . We’re still learning about what it takes to provide great accessibility to our audience and to build welcoming, kind spaces for ourselves through the open-hearted work of , , , and . And has moved mountains, in data form, to create a workspace for everyone where we can laugh and keep things tidy, and occasionally “fuck around” as we learn.And you? Well you’ve shown up, consistently, commenting with encouraging words, collaborating with new friends you’ve found here. You’ve shared our posts and our notes and our SmallTalk threads with others, and you’ve waved a friendly hand to show folx that they are welcome here, too. You have asked hard questions. You have shared your struggles. You have shown up with joy.
I have become friends with so many of you, and my heart is full. Is that not success?
At the heart of this project, there was a need to build a community where you could show up as you are, where you could celebrate being small, and where you could find others who would uplift you as we all grow together. And we’ve done it. You’ve done it. I’ve even done it.
With two weeks left before we launch our Library and share our first week of Featured Posts, there is only so much time to ensure that everything works as planned. And when something breaks, when something fails, I hope you’ll give us the same grace that we have cultivated in this space together. We’ll be providing plenty of information during Launch Week about how we’ll correct mistakes and update Library listings, and we’ll even host an open house for you to bring your questions.
In order to talk about failure, you need to define success. Many of us have stories about the failures that ultimately lead us to something better, to something worth celebrating. We’ll be hosting a SmallTalk tomorrow about failure, about how we measure success, about how we all stumble as we learn new things, and about what we do when that happens. This is your formal invitation to dig deep and think about what failure means to you. We would love to hear your stories.
As always, I owe a tremendous debt of gratitude to this community for becoming the space I needed when I started here as a fledgling writer. You have given me so much, and I hope I can return that kindness to each of you.
SmallStack’s Very First Fan,
Robin Taylor
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Seeing the comments on this post supporting you — supporting SmallStack, supporting us! — is a warm ray of sunshine on a stressful travel day. It’s going to be okay. More than okay. It’s going to be amazing in ways we haven’t even dared yet to dream!
💜💜💜