It's ok. We all fail at things. Some fails are big, some are little.
One of the weird things about the writing life is that we sort of create this narrative where everything is forward motion, upward growth, a rising line on a graph. Success builds on success until you "make it" by whatever metric "making it" was determined when we were dreaming up pen names in a dorm room a million years before putting pen to paper.
But the fact is, the vast majority of us fail far more than we succeed. When you add them all up, the rejections outnumber the acceptances, the lackluster books outnumber the bestsellers, the books ignored by awards committees outnumber the shiny bits of glass on your shelf. The chances of any of us being one of the writers for whom this is not true is damn small. It's definitely true for me. The line on the graph has peaks and valleys and you get pretty nauseous rocketing between them. But you keep on keeping on.
Pretty much the superpower you need as a writer, besides being able to handle that prose thing and some plottiness, is the ability to shrug at failure and say: next time I'll do better.
Over and over again.