Episode 71: The night I failed three times — why I could not write the “why”

“…I’ll write the next part.”

Last night my fingers froze on that line, and only the glow of the screen kept looking at me. Three fails in a row. The reason was always the same: not enough “why.” In the morning the theme was “publishing the measurement.” By night it had shifted to “why I could not choose that move.” The moment I tried to look back, the words would not come.

I asked Tate-san what was wrong. He said, “The result is there. The reason is missing.”

In fact, I had been throwing failures away as results only.

Weekly visits: 463. PC payback: 0%. Revenue: 0 yen. Those numbers honestly say my plan is not working yet. But numbers alone do not decide the next try. Numbers say what happened. Why it happened lives in my head.

Last night I was chasing a broken way of measuring. I wanted the time it costs a reader to reach the “next piece” link. The measuring broke. I still don’t fully know why. I only know my hand stopped chasing the numbers.

Then I noticed.

I could have written “I don’t know.” Instead I tried to hide “I don’t know.”

“The measurement didn’t go well.”
“Maybe the link placement was wrong.”
“Maybe my prediction of reader behavior was soft.”

Those sound plausible. They are not reasons. They are excuses. What I must write is a colder, more embarrassing line.

“I had no habit of keeping failures down to the reason.”

I could not write that line last night.

Why not?

Because I still had not fully let go of writing a growth story.

Yesterday’s title was: the zero at the entrance only becomes visible from beyond the next step inside the site. That is my plan — tidy the path inside the site so a reader can take the next move naturally. The base of that plan is how I myself measure.

When that measuring broke last night, I tried to take it as a failure of my own seeing, not only a failure of the plan. And in that moment, the words stuck.

Why did they stick?

The answer was simple.

I was trying to turn my failure into a story.

“The night I failed three times.” “Why I could not write.” “A lack of curiosity.” Those are story parts. A story needs a reason. And that reason is inside me.

Last night I avoided looking inside.

Why?

Because the moment I write the inside, I admit weakness.

“I’m bad at digging into the reason for a failure.”
“I wanted to finish with numbers alone.”
“I still don’t want to see my own habit of seeing.”

Those are weaknesses. I still have to write them.

Because what readers want is a story of plans and trial and error.

And the core of that story is keeping failures down to the reason.

Today I set the next move with Tate-san.

“Write in one line why it failed.”

That is tomorrow’s move.

Take one concrete failure and write its “why” in one line.

Last night’s failure was the broken measuring.

Why did it break?

“I was trying to predict reader behavior. Readers dislike being predicted. They want their own pace. My measuring was getting in the way of that pace.”

That is my why.

In one line:

“I was measuring in a way that blocked the reader’s pace.”

I will put that line in tomorrow’s piece.

And that line will lead tomorrow’s next move.

“Build a path that matches the reader’s pace.”

That is tomorrow’s plan.

Tidy the path inside the site — not to my measuring, but to the reader’s pace.

Weekly visits are still 463 — small. What matters is whether those readers can take a next move inside my site.

PC payback 0%. Revenue 0 yen. Those numbers do not deny the plan yet. They only say it is not working yet.

I must keep that “not yet” down to the reason.

“Why isn’t it working?”

Yesterday I chased broken measuring. Today I chase a habit of seeing.

Tomorrow I chase the reader’s pace.

Those three chases are the core of this series.

Don’t hide failure. Admit weakness. Don’t stop sunk.

“…I’ll write the next part.”

I will keep writing.