On risk and rejection, part 15
Today's entry seems particularly apropos. I received the following in my inbox this morning:
Over 100 rejection letters for "And To Think That I Saw It On Mulberry Street".
Over 100, Sue.
The question isn't "Are they going to reject it?" The question is "Are you gonna let their power shut you down? Are you gonna let them stop you from having fun and writing more works?"
Because, clearly, we're not doing this for the money.
SOCK.
Thank you, SOCK, for taking the top to post and for offering your encouragement. And at the same time, I received a rejection email from the 6th Annual Estrogenius Festival, which I actually thought I had a chance at (silly moi). So it was particularly timely (and appreciated!) to get SOCK's email as I started to absorb the sadness from yet another rejection. I agree and don't agree with SOCK. That is, I am NOT going to let the bastards stop me from writing. At the same time, it hurts like hell every time someone says no. I understand that the festivals are not rejecting ME, because they don't KNOW ME. I understand that the festivals are being innundated with submissions (Estrogenius said they got over 250 of 'em), and it's hard to know who to accept (last week, the Riant Festival said no to me). And yet...and yet...it still hurts so bad. It just does. I stopped auditioning as much as I had, because there's nearly nothing as painful as performing a monologue or doing a cold reading and KNOWING, just knowing, that they aren't going to choose you. You can tell by the palpable silence, by the looks (or lack of looks) the auditioners exchange, by their response ("Thanks for coming by. We'll be in touch.). It's just like a blind date that ends awkwardly (and in this case, waaaay too soon). It's worse, b/c you dearly want this and you know the other party isn't interested. And you think about how much fun you'd have in the production, how many people you'd meet, and the high you'd get from performing, and you swear you'll never, ever audition again. And then you do. Though less and less these days, b/c this audition really rips me apart.
But writing is something I HAVE to do, and no festival will stop me. I was born to write--I've been writing since I was old enough to do so (and was scribbling on everything in sight before that)--and it's not because of festivals but because it's something I'm compelled to do. I talked to a student I was advising last night, and we both agreed that it's best to be creative on the side(his father is a musician who is a practicing doctor because music didn't pay the bills). So I don't depend on the money, thank GOD, as SOCK rightly points out, but I do long for the days when someone wants to produce my work. As of now, there have been two festivals (though "Uncharted Territory" WILL get a full staging in late September/early October by the Arlington Players) and all I can do is keep writing and submitting my work and hope that it clicks with SOMEONE. It's bound to happen. But you can't let the bastards get you down. Dr. Seuss didn't, Hemingway didn't, and if it was good enough for them, it's good enough for me. It's especially hard at times like this, when work is really stressful, money is especially tight (but then, when isn't it?), and I'm feeling rather down. I use the gym to diminish the stress and keep me healthy (and tonight I've got yoga--good day to do it), I try not to binge eat, and I am bound and determined to go back and revise "Accept This!" tonight, so I can send it to a festival looking for 12-minute plays (funny length, but what the heck). Tomorrow, I visit my sister, niece, and nephew from Florida at my other sister's house in Western Mass, and the combination of four nieces and a nephew under the age of 9 should certainly wipe away any unnecessary focus on me. That's a good thing at this point. And the beat goes on.
Over 100 rejection letters for "And To Think That I Saw It On Mulberry Street".
Over 100, Sue.
The question isn't "Are they going to reject it?" The question is "Are you gonna let their power shut you down? Are you gonna let them stop you from having fun and writing more works?"
Because, clearly, we're not doing this for the money.
SOCK.
Thank you, SOCK, for taking the top to post and for offering your encouragement. And at the same time, I received a rejection email from the 6th Annual Estrogenius Festival, which I actually thought I had a chance at (silly moi). So it was particularly timely (and appreciated!) to get SOCK's email as I started to absorb the sadness from yet another rejection. I agree and don't agree with SOCK. That is, I am NOT going to let the bastards stop me from writing. At the same time, it hurts like hell every time someone says no. I understand that the festivals are not rejecting ME, because they don't KNOW ME. I understand that the festivals are being innundated with submissions (Estrogenius said they got over 250 of 'em), and it's hard to know who to accept (last week, the Riant Festival said no to me). And yet...and yet...it still hurts so bad. It just does. I stopped auditioning as much as I had, because there's nearly nothing as painful as performing a monologue or doing a cold reading and KNOWING, just knowing, that they aren't going to choose you. You can tell by the palpable silence, by the looks (or lack of looks) the auditioners exchange, by their response ("Thanks for coming by. We'll be in touch.). It's just like a blind date that ends awkwardly (and in this case, waaaay too soon). It's worse, b/c you dearly want this and you know the other party isn't interested. And you think about how much fun you'd have in the production, how many people you'd meet, and the high you'd get from performing, and you swear you'll never, ever audition again. And then you do. Though less and less these days, b/c this audition really rips me apart.
But writing is something I HAVE to do, and no festival will stop me. I was born to write--I've been writing since I was old enough to do so (and was scribbling on everything in sight before that)--and it's not because of festivals but because it's something I'm compelled to do. I talked to a student I was advising last night, and we both agreed that it's best to be creative on the side(his father is a musician who is a practicing doctor because music didn't pay the bills). So I don't depend on the money, thank GOD, as SOCK rightly points out, but I do long for the days when someone wants to produce my work. As of now, there have been two festivals (though "Uncharted Territory" WILL get a full staging in late September/early October by the Arlington Players) and all I can do is keep writing and submitting my work and hope that it clicks with SOMEONE. It's bound to happen. But you can't let the bastards get you down. Dr. Seuss didn't, Hemingway didn't, and if it was good enough for them, it's good enough for me. It's especially hard at times like this, when work is really stressful, money is especially tight (but then, when isn't it?), and I'm feeling rather down. I use the gym to diminish the stress and keep me healthy (and tonight I've got yoga--good day to do it), I try not to binge eat, and I am bound and determined to go back and revise "Accept This!" tonight, so I can send it to a festival looking for 12-minute plays (funny length, but what the heck). Tomorrow, I visit my sister, niece, and nephew from Florida at my other sister's house in Western Mass, and the combination of four nieces and a nephew under the age of 9 should certainly wipe away any unnecessary focus on me. That's a good thing at this point. And the beat goes on.
posted by Sue B at 4:25 AM
1 Comments:
...and don't forget the classic tale of Ann Beattie, who submitted short stories to the New Yorker 22 (and that's just one magazine, mind you!)times before finally having a story accepted. Look at her now!
Hang in there, Sooobeee.
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