Do you know why I'm standing here in front of you all?
Neediness.
It's true.
Every writer is needy because every writer is lonely.
He sits in front of a blank page, trying to come up with a sentence.
Deep down, there is a void.
He enters a crowded auditorium like this and sees people applaud him,
he wants to keep standing hoping they'll continue to clap.
No one applauds a book. Have you ever seen that?
You get a book, you like it, love it, put it on the table and start to clap.
No one does that.
When I was in high school, I had a friend named João.
He had to take a vocational test
and the psychologist asked him, "What do you want to be?"
He asked, "Which career gets the most applause?"
She replied, "Clown." He said, "I want to do that."
And today he's a great clown. He's found his success.
But I don't know if they told you that our topic is the opposite.
Our topic is "failure."
Do you know the difference between failure and defeat?
Let's not confuse them, OK?
Defeat is when you go out at night to a party
and a girl rejects you. It's a huge blow.
You go back home, frustrated.
Failure is much worse. Failure depends on a project.
You spend time on it,
and afterward you try to achieve it and you can't.
Failure is very lonely.
Failure shows you a blank screen when you expect it to show something more.
"Failure has no friends." This quote is from former president JFK.
When he said "failure has no friends," he wanted to say exactly what I just said,
that failure is full of loneliness, which is the opposite of success.
Let's observe this.
When one of our projects is successful,
the success belongs to everyone who took part in it,
but when you fail, the failure is only yours.
Failure has no friends. Failure is also lonely.
Success should be shared with everyone.
We should accept failure because failure is only ours.
I've had many during my life. I have them every day.
I failed in almost all my projects.
But I go from one failure to another with great enthusiasm.
I fail willingly, I fail with strength.
I go back and fail again, I'm very stubborn.
Then I return to the blank screen.
This guy changes our concept of failure, don't you think?
Because it would be really easy if I could ask you,
"What have I learned from failure?"
That's the question of this lecture. What did you learn from failure?
Is it possible to learn something from failure?
This man... where is he?
Behind here? There? I don't see him.
This man changes our notion of failure.
Have you ever seen someone fail on Facebook?
There's no way.
Everyone is successful on Facebook. It's amazing.
Everyone seems like the King of England.
Everyone is partying, everyone has yachts, cars...
although some of those cars have been stolen by politicians.
Everyone is always happy on Facebook, no one has failures on social media.
I've never seen anyone post a photo at the dentist.
"A 'selfie' of my 4th cavity." Have you ever seen that?
No one posts a selfie at the dentist on Facebook.
There is no standing ovation.
There is no applause because everyone is being applauded.
Facebook changed that notion and gives us the illusion
that everyone is successful.
No one posts their failures. No one shares them on social media.
That's what we need to start doing.
Life is not how our beloved Mark Zuckerberg presents it to us,
because, unfortunately, failures are a real part of life.
It's a neurological matter. "Sadness has no end. Happiness does."
You've heard this saying.
This saying means that failures are far more important to us than success.
Can we learn from our failures?
I don't know. Self-help gurus think so. Paulo Coelho would get excited over this.
He'd say: "No, the universe conspires in your favor.
You will learn and be successful,
and from failure to failure, you will find success."
I don't know, I really don't know, and I won't mislead you.
Do you see that person marked with red?
That's me.
It doesn't look like me, but that's me in high school.
Do you know who that guy is, in the middle, holding champagne?
My friend João who became a clown.
The end-of-year party, end of high school, and he's holding champagne.
I look at this photo and wonder:
I think the first step towards failure is to have many expectations,
to think like João, although he made it,
that, ultimately, people will applaud you and give you a standing ovation.
João had another dream.
He said: "My goal is not only to be applauded,
they have to clap for at least 30 seconds,
because if it's less than that it's not applause, it's just clapping.
So I want to be a clown who will be applauded."
That's a huge problem.
The beginning of failure is anxiety, and failure is full of anxiety.
We always project what we want as a reward
and if you start a project wanting the reward,
you're starting wrong.
The only right way to start
is to know that true applause, standing ovation,
is in the journey, not at the end of it.
There is no paved road; walking creates the road, my friends.
It's not the goal you must pursue, it's the journey towards the goal
where my friend João finds applause.
Here you see almost all the books I wrote in my life.
All of them were huge failures.
I never won the Jabuti Prize. I was a finalist twice, but I never won.
I never deserved critical acclaim.
That red book in the corner is a book about breakups,
about my love failures.
It's called, "A kiss on the forehead is worse than a breakup."
Isn't that right? Can you imagine it?
Your husband kisses you on the forehead, "Bye, love,"...
Forget it, he's seeing someone else.
(Laughter)
No one leaves and gives a kiss on the forehead, right?
I wrote books about journalism, I wrote three novels,
I wrote a biography.
None of them were successful.
You probably didn't even know I was a writer.
I guess none of you here have read any of my books.
Who reads in Brazil?
Being a writer is a lonely job,
which brings us back to our beloved John Kennedy.
"Failure has no friends." We live in solitude.
Although I think Kennedy had many friends, did he not?
That's OK... but then maybe not. It was a tragic death.
A tragic death of a man who served his country.
But do you know what I remember most about Kennedy?
Not me, my clown friend João.
Do you know what he'd tell me?
"Look, Felipe,
what I remember most about John Kennedy is Marilyn Monroe."
Do you remember that scene, "Happy birthday, Mr. President?"
Do you remember that scene?
It's a scene where she sings "Happy birthday to you" to the president.
Do you know why João liked that scene?
He would say: "Think about it, Felipe.
Happy birthday to you! People are already clapping.
No one needs to get up because everyone is already standing.
That's what I want in life.
I want to be a clown so Marilyn Monroe can sing 'Happy Birthday' to me."
Again, the same mistake.
We want the reward before the journey, but the journey brings the reward.
Here you can see a photo of me, somewhat happy, I think you can tell,
with children from the Alemão favela in Rio de Janeiro.
Those children were at the launch of a book I wrote for them in 2012.
The launch was at the National Library.
Those children had never visited a palace as big as the National Library.
I wrote a book whose proceeds
went to a mobile library in the Alemão favela,
so that the kids could read.
But the book was a big flop,
and we couldn't raise the money to build it.
But that photo is there.
There is a lesson from the failure:
even in the worst of failures, there are moments of success.
That was my moment of success.
That photo with the children, that happiness,
is something I'll take with me forever and never forget.
And every time I go up the Alemão favela and read to the children,
I see those same smiles, and it's gratifying,
despite my failure and the failure of our project,
of the book that couldn't build the mobile library for them.
There are moments of success in the worst of failures.
What you see here is a documentary I released last year.
It's called "If this town weren't mine."
It's a documentary about a community, Vila Autódromo,
located next to an Olympic Park in Rio de Janeiro.
We all celebrate the Olympics in Rio, but forget about the thousands of people
who are being evacuated from their homes in the city
because of the Olympics.
This community, located right next to the park, had 583 families.
They were evicted so the Olympics could take place.
Is that success?
Does the failure of the people who are leaving the place
where they've lived for 40 years,
since they're being evicted by the mayor,
cause success in the games for millions of people,
billions of people who'll be watching around the world?
Is there no other alternative?
Couldn't there be a social legacy to leave all those people there?
I made this film, directed it, funded it, summoned three friends to help me
- director of photography, sound, editing.
We showed the film in China, the film was in festivals in Europe,
it won a festival in Beijing, but it wasn't shown anywhere in Brazil.
It was a huge failure.
We couldn't mobilize the society, and those people are about to be evicted.
Of the 583 families, 530 have already left.
The government and the mayor destroy part of Rio's poor population,
while the country and the world celebrate the Olympics.
Is that success or failure?
These are the people, and I failed them. They are the residents of Vila Autódromo.
They are the people in the film "If this town weren't mine."
I look at each one of them, I look at their families,
and I look in the mirror and think, "Felipe Pena, you're a failure.
You couldn't help those people with your film."
Even though it was shown throughout the whole world,
those people continue to suffer the same problem.
Those people continue to live under the same dictatorship
of the government of Rio de Janeiro that evicted them for the Olympics.
If you were an Olympic athlete, do you think it would be worth it?
Is having a medal on your chest
worth the cost of the suffering of others, like you're seeing here?
I always ask myself the same question.
That person you see there
was a director of the 4th largest TV station in the country.
That's me, although it doesn't look it.
Of course, I failed as a director at TV Globo.
Do you know how long I worked there? Five months.
Five months, just like the Minister of Education, I remember,
"a country of education."
Minister Janine was only five months in office.
Where did we go wrong, Minister? Tell me.
I know: I think we went wrong in politics,
because now that we have a government tainted by corruption,
we believe that politics is worthless, but it isn't!
If you can't find someone worth your vote, you should run for office yourself.
Politics isn't just about voting. Politics isn't just about Brasília.
Politics means talking to people.
In my role as director of content analysis
I should have talked to the screenwriters at TV Globo about their mistakes.
But I did that in highly technical reports.
I did my post-doctorate at Sorbonne.
I thought I had the technical knowledge to do this,
but I had to do more, I had to talk and I didn't,
and because of that I left after five months.
We were easily overthrown, the Minister and I.
It's easy to be overthrown when you can't do politics.
Doing politics is necessary. Success and failure depend on it.
I was also a screenwriter for TV Globo for three years.
I submitted scripts for evening dramas.
I submitted 10 proposals for TV series. Do you know how many of them were aired?
Zero.
None of them were aired.
But here's another lesson in failure. Every failure serves a purpose.
Mine served to write this book that you see here.
It includes scripts, the script for an evening drama,
a horror series, and a police series.
My students can learn from this and understand where I went wrong,
because in the margin of each script are comments from people who criticized me
and why the scripts didn't go on air.
Students can learn from my mistakes.
My failures in TV are open to anyone who wants to be a screenwriter,
or wants to work for a TV station.
Finally, there's this photo here.
This is a photo of the residents of Vila Autódromo
watching the film in the community church,
along with international reporters who I had invited,
so they could see the hardships in the community.
Today, a few international media outlets have spoken about the community.
And now, one last thought for you.
I don't know if you've heard of the "story of the elbows",
but I believe it explains the difference between success and failure.
This is the story of the elbows:
There was a journalist who wanted to know heaven and hell.
So first, he went to hell.
He asked the devil's press officer, "Can I see what hell is like?"
He said, "Come, my child. You can enter."
He entered through a gate of fire, turned right,
and looked at the people in the middle of hell.
He noticed that everyone was happy, everyone just laughing, no one working.
It was wonderful in hell.
But he looked more closely at those happy people,
laughing, having fun, and noticed they had inverted elbows.
Because of this, they ended up starving since they couldn't feed themselves.
So, he ran away from there.
"I don't want to stay here! I don't want to starve!"
He called Saint Peter and said: "Can I come? I want to see heaven."
He left, went up, entered a gate of clouds to the right,
and entered heaven.
When he arrived at heaven, he noticed the same type of people.
Everyone was also happy,
no one working, everyone just having fun, laughing and telling jokes.
What is he going to do? Look at their elbows, right?
He looked at their elbows and noticed that they were also inverted.
The only difference is that, in heaven, the people weren't starving
because each person feeds the other.
This is what the residents of Vila Autódromo have learned,
that together they are strong, and that solidarity is the only solution.
Today 57 families persevere with inverted elbows,
placing food in the mouths of one another,
and myself along with them, emulating that example of solidarity.
I failed with the movie, failed with books,
failed in the cinema, failed at TV Globo.
I can fail with them, but we will fail together.
There is only failure in division; in solidarity, failure becomes success,
even if you fail.
So, I want you all to work together,
to join your inverted elbows and get a standing ovation
for 10 minutes, for 10 seconds, for as long as you live,
as long as your lives are dedicated to moments of solidarity.
Thank you very much.
(Applause)
Thirty seconds. You made my day.
(Laughter)