Category: Choose Your Own Adventure

Los Angeles – 2003. My teenage self is an expert level chess player, competing in one of my favorite annual tournaments, the U.S. Open Chess Championship. This particular tournament is special because it’s the first one where I start to gain the confidence and ability to defeat master level players, which is the rank above expert. 

Entering the final round, I have 6 wins out of 8 games, three of which were victories against masters. A win in the last round would net me the expert prize in the tournament (3 grand) and an invitation to the U.S. Closed Championship. But if I lose the game, I’ll go home empty-handed after 9 days of intense effort. 

I’m paired against the reigning U.S. Women’s Champion, a strong master, but this tournament I’ve learned not to be intimidated by this caliber of player. I’m confident. The opening moves of the game go into what my coach and I expected, and I enter the middlegame with a very good position. 

I can feel victory present all over the position, so many opportunities. In fact, I run low on time, trying to decide between different good moves and routes to victory. With less time to think, I make a minor error. The position is still winning for me, but one mistake leads to another. The position becomes complicated and unclear. The clock is ticking down. I try to find my way through, but gradually and then suddenly, I watch it all slip away. A winning position and what would’ve been the strongest tournament performance of my life at the time turns into quickly shuffling the pieces around, trying to salvage the game into me shaking my opponent’s hand in resignation.  

My coach walks up to the board after the game is finished and shows me multiple ways I could’ve won. There is nothing quite like being that close and failing. 

After this tournament, my confidence in my chess ability takes a dip. My newfound ability to defeat masters is shaken. It takes me quite a while to rediscover it. 

I wish I understood back then that, as heartbreaking as that failure was, it was just the middle of the story. I’ve since learned that life is loaded with second chances. Success has a lot more to do with not giving up than it does with magically getting it right the first time. 

Stephen King is one of the most prolific and successful writers of all time. Yet, here’s his initial attempts to get his writing published were loaded with years of rejection letters:

Yet, I love the simple way he describes his reaction in the face of failure:

He just kept writing. It’s so easy to misunderstand what a failure really means. When I lost that last round of the U.S. Open, I let it sink into my overall confidence in my abilities—when all it really meant was that I lost one game. 

Stephen King could see what each rejection letter really meant: At that time, that one publication has not accepted that one story. One rejection letter has no bearing on the next publication he submits to or the next story he writes. Our failures are important to see realistically and learn from, but they do not define our future or our overall level of ability and potential. 

It can be so easy to get lost in our own fears of rejection and failures. It’s so easy to second guess what you’re creating before it’s had a chance to reach its potential and find its audience. 

It helps me to remind myself of fellow writers and others with great ideas and aspirations who grappled with many setbacks before seeing concrete progress:

After receiving 27 rejections for his first book, Theodor Geisel, better known as Dr. Seuss, was on the verge of giving up on writing completely. Serendipitously, he ran into a friend who had just become an editor for the children’s section of a publishing house. When he mentioned his plans to give up and destroy the book, the editor asked to take a look, leading to its publication. Today, Geisel’s books have sold over 600 million copies.

Steven Spielberg was rejected by USC’s Film School three times. Despite this major setback, he continued working at his craft, obtained an internship in the editing department at Universal Studios, and made a short film that led to his first directing contract.

Michael Jordan cites his willingness to risk failure as a key aspect of his success:

Robert Pirsig‘s book, Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, which went on to sell millions of copies, received 121 rejections before being accepted for publication.

The first book of the now best-selling series, Chicken Soup for the Soul, by Jack Canfield received 144 rejections. He believed in his book and kept searching until he found a yes:

Jack London, one of the first widely successful American authors, received over six hundred rejection slips before he sold his first story. 

Thomas Edison famously tried 1000 ideas before successfully inventing the light bulb. Yet, he maintained his motivation by reframing how he viewed these attempts:

Finally, I find Peter Dinklage’s story of failure to success in his 2012 commencement speech particular inspiring:

What I love about these stories is how so many of these individuals created their own second, third, fourth, fifth, etc. chances by continuing to improve at their craft, test out new ideas, and/or get their work out to new audiences―no matter what.

In 2010, I find myself with a renewed energy and confidence to attempt to reach master level in chess. I also experience a bit of luck: the U.S. Open Chess Championship, which is played in different cities across the country each year, returns to Southern California.

As a college student at the time, I only prepare for the tournament for a few weeks beforehand. But it’s enough to refresh my decade of chess knowledge, combined with a stronger level of confidence and life experience.

Mid-tournament, it’s like my chess abilities are on fire. I can see clearly the usually hidden weaknesses in the play of strong masters. Again, I reach the last round with 6 points of 8 with ― 3 victories against masters. I’m in contention for the same 3 grand expert prize, and I’m paired against another strong master. 

It’s a new version of the same event. Again, I’ve been playing at an unusually high level for myself. There is one last high caliber player that stands in my way. Only now I have the chance to change the ending.

That final round is a chaotic battle of minds. Each time I try to get the upper hand, my opponent counters. Each time he tries to get the upper hand, I find a resource to keep the position unclear. But there is a focus I have. My mind is not focused on the result, but the game itself, willing to put in whatever it takes. 

My opponent makes a significant mistake. This is my chance: a few more critical moves with everything is on the line. I calculate ahead carefully. With one subtle move, the position turns in my favor. This time, I don’t give my opponent any chance to get back into the game.

As he resigns, my opponent remarks: “You deserved the win. You wanted it more.”

With my confidence in my abilities restored, I go on to earn the master title myself within a few more tournaments. 

Have you ever created your own second chance? Are you in the process of creating one? Feel free to share your own experiences in the comments below.