Ready for Rejection

Does that sound dramatic? For once I don't mean it to be.

Rejection, unfortunately, is just a fact of life. Rejections from the star quarterback or head cheerleader, prom-posals gone awry, rejections from jobs you know you were perfect for, rejection from a cast list, friend group, you name it, I've felt it.

I used to hate getting notes after a tiring evening of rehearsals. Pouring your teenage heart out onstage, then sitting amongst the cast and crew, so hungry to prove to everyone you belong, and hearing all the things you messed up. The things you could do better. The places you'd let people down. Was it ever that big of a deal? No. But did it feel like it? You betcha.

Then I went to art school. Critiques were the days most of my peers dreaded. But I didn't. It felt a lot like the judges meeting with us after we advanced (and the one time we didn't) during the UIL One Act Play Festivals. It felt a lot like the panel during the many rounds of the International Thespian Society competitions at state and then at nationals. It felt a lot like every director I've ever had the pleasure to work with.

One thing I learned to love about critiques was noticing how many more notes the stronger projects got. Someone would display something they clearly mismanaged their time on and their critique would be very short, very vague, and honestly, had their few strong points really drawn out. Then a truly stellar project would come up and suddenly everyone had something to say. The artist would get tons of discussion time, so many specific suggestions, and go away with a clear directive for how to proceed. I used to scratch my head and go, "What? How come mine got ripped apart when I know it was better than that one!" (Hey, I wasn't always the most humble.) I'd notice the first artist skip out, head held high, and go out for a celebratory drink. Meanwhile I'd be pouring over the next version of my piece, tearing my hair out.

But what happened every time? You can probably guess; it's not the most well-crafted cliffhanger. Those projects that benefitted from personalized, thoughtful critiques flourished. And so did the artists who were able to take those critiques and apply them. We were given those suggestions and notes because our peers and professors believed we could do better, be better.

So thank goodness for those seemingly endless sessions of notes in a high school auditorium. Because I got used to it. Got used to distinguishing insults from constructive criticism. Got used to hearing that I'm never going to be perfect; things will never fully be done to my satisfaction. Got used to realizing that people were doing me the greatest service they possibly could: giving me their knowledge and expertise to make me better.

Don't we all want to be the best? Sure we do! But ever noticed how many names scroll past after a movie? How many names are listed in a program or a Playbill? How fast Oscar/Tony/Emmy/Grammy winners have to talk to squeeze in all the people they want to thank? How long an author's acknowledgements are? Because people can't be their best on their own. No one.

I think if we could see an author's first draft or an actor's first cold read for their Academy Award winning performance, we might not be quite as impressed as we'd think. Sure, they're talented and prepared and capable, but they aren't their best. Yet. That takes time. It takes notes. And unfortunately, it takes lots and lots of rejection.

I'm gearing up to begin the terrifying prospect of querying literary agents. The process of saying, "Here's this thing I took way too long doing... not only am I not sure it's very good, but it's also about me and my life and all the people I love so please like it. Like us. Like me." And I have to be ready for the rejection. Because it's coming. It's a fact.

And I feel ready for that. In fact, I welcome it. Often I pray for it. Does that sound weird?

I hate making choices. Oftentimes when I'm applying for jobs or apartments or when I was looking for dogs to foster/adopt I would pray, "Don't make me make the decision. How will I know if I make the right choice? What if I'm the one to mess this up by walking through the wrong door? Give me all the no's but the right one. Make the decision the most obvious it could possibly be."

So that's what I'm continuing to pray through all of this. I want more rejection than acceptance. I'm ready for people to tell me no, how I could do better, what I can change, to make this, to make me, the best it can possibly be. With all the help I can get.