On rejection and moving on

Well, the inevitable post (but it's short, b/c I'm tired). After several successful weeks of acceptances (Lakeshore, Studio 400), an honorable mention (Kingwood College), and an amazing weekend in NYC (for WEDNESDAYS), I got the dreaded rejection. And not just a rejection, mind you: the one from the Boston Theatre Marathon. I was told I was in the "final mix," and I probably was, though a whole lot of other playwrights seem to have heard the same thing. It doesn't matter now, anyway, b/c PEANUT BUTTER SANDWICHES did not get into the festival. Now, I know this is a strong play; it's had four productions to date. It must have been beaten out by equally strong plays that worked better for the final panel. Nonetheless, I checked my cellphone for weeks, just to see if Kate from the Marathon had called with the good news. She never did, and I got my rejection letter on Friday. I am sure she had encouraging words regarding one or maybe both of the plays I submitted, and someday I will open the envelope and read her comments, but not today, and not tomorrow, and not until I feel ready to do so. It's only one 10-minute play over a 10-hour day, and I wouldn't have gotten paid, and it costs $40 to go (for charitable reasons), but it's also prestigious (locally, anyway), and it meant a lot to me. But in the greater scheme of writing (and of course in life) it only means so much, and so I carry on.

In fact, the rejection inspired me to write (something good came out of something not so good), and I finished a new play today under the theme of "dreams" for the Lebanon Community Players Festival (though if it doesn't get in there, at least I will have yet another 10-minute play, and I will get to send it to other theatres). I have a lot of plays out there in the playwrighting hemisphere right now, and I am hopeful that at least a few will get picked up and presented to great fanfare (or to small fanfare, but either is just fine with me). I can't say rejection is getting easier for me, but I *can* say that I am not letting it paralyze me, as it might have done at one time. If you don't write, then you aren't a writer. I want to be a writer, hence I write, and the feeling I get when I finish a piece is a total high. Natural highs, achieved from yoga or other physical activities and from creative pursuits, cannot be overestimated. They are what keeps us alive and in the moment.