The cold cometh and goeth, the acceptances cometh, the rejections cometh
Okay, that was pretty lame, I know, but I wanted to give you an update, as I am going away to Florida for six days (thank God) on Wednesday, and will have no time to write this coming week. I have been very sick (by which I mean in bed or feeling like I should be in bed) since last Sunday. It came on very quickly, after watching Mrs. Henderson Presents at a friend's house (disappoining movie, but fun to spend time with Elizabeth), and before I knew it, I was down and out yet again. This makes FOUR colds or the flu in six months, which is just ridiculous. I plan to see the doctor when I get back from Florida, but I'm not sure what she can do, if I'm taking vitamins and vitamin C and sleeping enough and exercising. Several people in my office are sick, and unfortunately I gave the cold to my mother, but I just seem to get sick EVERY TIME something goes around, and I can't figure out why. I was so damn uncomfortable on Thursday (totally out of Wednesday and Friday at work), but today it seems to have broken, and most of the stuffiness is gone, though I have a slight headache and am still tired. I will take it, however, and it means I should (please, please, please) be well by Wednesday. I just rented Transamerica with Felicity Huffman, and I cannot recommend it enough. She is brilliant, her co-star (a young guy I had never hear of but who is immensely cute) is terrific, as are the others in the movie, and it's a very funny and yet poignant tale. Rent it if you haven't seen it yet.
No acceptances this week, one rejection on Friday (but most people got one, too), and then an odd rejection today from a place that will remain nameless, but that I am lobbying for The Satchel to get into, b/c I still feel it fits the theatre's criteria (I don't usually do that--I mean, how can I?--but in this case, it's different, and if I SHOULD get in, I'll explain more, and if not, I'll continue to feel sad and disappointed, but will know I did all I could). So, when does rejection stop hurting so much? Hm? You'd think three acceptances would be enough in one month, but NO. Not at all. I could say I'm greedy, but that's really not it. I've decided it's like a drug, and the more of it you take, the more of it you crave. My friend Michael got back into the submission game after some time off, and he is very optimistic again. His plays are certainly worthy of being produced, but that doesn't mean they will be, and I hope he doesn't get too disappointed (the way I do) if he is rejected.
Another reason I get so personally upset is that I feel my identity is getting more and more wrapped up with this writer/writing thing. Before, it was sort of a hobby, and of course it's still a side project, not my full-time job, but when the President of your college starts talking about your writing (okay, I brought it up at the staff meeting, b/c I want people to come to the Five Festival, but still), well, you feel an obligation to perform, to be successful, to not disappoint, so the pressure grows greater. Silly but true. And again, the happiness I feel when I am acctped into a festival, the joy it brings me (and again, I know this is somewhat ridiculous, but there it is) is so great that I crave it ALL THE TIME. I keep bookmarking the festivals I get into and staring at those pages for minutes at a time (odd, I know), and also bookmarking festivals I have a SHOT of getting into and also staring at those (even more detrimental to my well being). So the pressure builds and grows, and of course the rejection will only be that much harder.
Thankfully, I will get away from this when I'm in Florida, followed by the Five and TCAN Festivals, and then my one-week writing sabbatical in July. I have to sit down and write seriously, and there is my chance; perhaps I'll have some time to do this in Florida as well.
I started to read a book on directing (after catching up on several New Yorkers during my day in bed with cold), but it pissed me off too much, so I stopped (I need to think as a writer, not as a playwright or director, and the p.o.v. was frustrating, especially given the insecurity I've had regarding my play and my director's comments on it, no matter how astute they were). I am going to return to reading books on playwrighting, and that should help to motivate me. I cannot for the life of me figure out why one play will get into a festival and another will not (luck and sometimes politics figure largely into the equation), so why bother, eh? However, there are two upcoming festivals I DESPERATELY want to get into, one local, one not, and if I don't get into them, I fear I will be inconsolable (which won't help ANYONE, but I know mywelf). I hope that will not be case (both not getting in and being inconsolable). At least I'm not acting anymore, so there is no rejection on that front (and thank GOD I decided to stop all auditioning). I hate that you have to submit to get accepted and that you have to find out you were rejected after you submit (better to live in limbo, I sometimes think). Well, onto another Red Sox game (it's keeping me very occupied this spring into summer, which is not a bad thing), with vacation on the horizon, and the end of this nasty cold, I hope. Oh, if anyone has a guitar they don't need, let me know. After watching Transamerica, where one of the characters plays a mournful acoustic guitar, I was reminded again of how much I crave a guitar, so I can write songs and strum to my heart's content. I could write as many unhappy ballads as I wanted, and no one would ever have to know.
No acceptances this week, one rejection on Friday (but most people got one, too), and then an odd rejection today from a place that will remain nameless, but that I am lobbying for The Satchel to get into, b/c I still feel it fits the theatre's criteria (I don't usually do that--I mean, how can I?--but in this case, it's different, and if I SHOULD get in, I'll explain more, and if not, I'll continue to feel sad and disappointed, but will know I did all I could). So, when does rejection stop hurting so much? Hm? You'd think three acceptances would be enough in one month, but NO. Not at all. I could say I'm greedy, but that's really not it. I've decided it's like a drug, and the more of it you take, the more of it you crave. My friend Michael got back into the submission game after some time off, and he is very optimistic again. His plays are certainly worthy of being produced, but that doesn't mean they will be, and I hope he doesn't get too disappointed (the way I do) if he is rejected.
Another reason I get so personally upset is that I feel my identity is getting more and more wrapped up with this writer/writing thing. Before, it was sort of a hobby, and of course it's still a side project, not my full-time job, but when the President of your college starts talking about your writing (okay, I brought it up at the staff meeting, b/c I want people to come to the Five Festival, but still), well, you feel an obligation to perform, to be successful, to not disappoint, so the pressure grows greater. Silly but true. And again, the happiness I feel when I am acctped into a festival, the joy it brings me (and again, I know this is somewhat ridiculous, but there it is) is so great that I crave it ALL THE TIME. I keep bookmarking the festivals I get into and staring at those pages for minutes at a time (odd, I know), and also bookmarking festivals I have a SHOT of getting into and also staring at those (even more detrimental to my well being). So the pressure builds and grows, and of course the rejection will only be that much harder.
Thankfully, I will get away from this when I'm in Florida, followed by the Five and TCAN Festivals, and then my one-week writing sabbatical in July. I have to sit down and write seriously, and there is my chance; perhaps I'll have some time to do this in Florida as well.
I started to read a book on directing (after catching up on several New Yorkers during my day in bed with cold), but it pissed me off too much, so I stopped (I need to think as a writer, not as a playwright or director, and the p.o.v. was frustrating, especially given the insecurity I've had regarding my play and my director's comments on it, no matter how astute they were). I am going to return to reading books on playwrighting, and that should help to motivate me. I cannot for the life of me figure out why one play will get into a festival and another will not (luck and sometimes politics figure largely into the equation), so why bother, eh? However, there are two upcoming festivals I DESPERATELY want to get into, one local, one not, and if I don't get into them, I fear I will be inconsolable (which won't help ANYONE, but I know mywelf). I hope that will not be case (both not getting in and being inconsolable). At least I'm not acting anymore, so there is no rejection on that front (and thank GOD I decided to stop all auditioning). I hate that you have to submit to get accepted and that you have to find out you were rejected after you submit (better to live in limbo, I sometimes think). Well, onto another Red Sox game (it's keeping me very occupied this spring into summer, which is not a bad thing), with vacation on the horizon, and the end of this nasty cold, I hope. Oh, if anyone has a guitar they don't need, let me know. After watching Transamerica, where one of the characters plays a mournful acoustic guitar, I was reminded again of how much I crave a guitar, so I can write songs and strum to my heart's content. I could write as many unhappy ballads as I wanted, and no one would ever have to know.
posted by Sue B at 10:43 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home