kaet@rachacha.com
May 11, 2007

There is something to be said about coming from dinner to your art show to find that the band has set up in front of your exhibit. I politely brushed it off in my mind, adding it to the long list of experiences in my life. "Oh this is the experience in which my display is pooped upon by the disorganization of a quirky event; it's almost out of an early 90's coming of age flick. Neat!" As the night went on, I grew more annoyed and angry so much so that I left for a few hours. When I got home that night, I opened my email and saw a note from this editor regarding being a theatre reviewer for his online literary journal: It was a rejection letter. I've gotten plenty of rejections both professional and personal throughout my life, some I took badly (usually personal), some I took well (mostly professional). This one I took badly, with no help from all the booze I drank to suppress the anger I felt over the overall annoyance of that evening. On the other hand, it's not easy being rejected.

The Rejection Show is a show here in New York where creative types, both famous and non-famous, come together in a comedic setting to otherwise vent their rejections both personal and professional. Some read love letters from childhood, others tell stories from bad breakups, and there's a reading or two of bad reviews. I saw the show back on Valentine's Day when I had just witnessed my very own rejection by a friend. I, at the time, wanted to do the show, maybe with a tale of heartbreak, but that isn't me, I can't put myself out there like that. But armed with this letter I received, one that was perhaps "jerky" and "evil" to my standards, I found myself writing the creator of the The Rejection Show, Jon Friedman. I explained the context of letter (which I hadn't read since the night before), copy and pasted it to the email, and re-read it again.

The letter wasn't so bad, just a little smug and pretentious, and I found myself embarrassed that I was even writing Jon, thinking he'd reject me based on my inability to handle a little criticism of my writing. But I'm a woman of principle, so I let it hang out there. I continued writing what I really wanted to say to the editor (obscenities), that I was maybe just upset because of what happened earlier that night at the art show, and that maybe the reason I was upset was because I feel more people are interested in my hobby (photography) and not my career (writing). That was the core issue (it usually is), but that night I was dealt a double blow as my art, something I did work hard on (and it showed) got cast to the side and was blocked by experimental jazz and ambient sound. I ended on a note of maybe I shouldn't overreact to someone's negative opinions when drunk and writing strangers about it when you've had very little sleep. But it felt good to vent to someone who might understand.

Writers by their very nature are insecure as hell, and if not personally, definitely in craft. One day I'm riding high because someone liked my writing and wanted to read more of it, the boy I liked paid attention to me, work has been going well and I booked another art show because "I love art shows, they are so fun!" I say to myself. The next day, I could be drowning my sorrows sitting in my bathtub for two hours wondering what the hell happened, why people don't like my writing, why that boy won't talk to me, why everyone hates me at work, and I have that art show, "and I hate those art shows!" I'll say to myself. Personal creative highs only last so long (a very short period), but when they happen, they are worth it. For me, it means that someone connected to what I was trying to do and I'm on the same wavelength as they are. Creating an idea or a feeling isn't hard, that only involves thinking and style; it's the connecting that is difficult. I didn't connect to the editor who sent me that nasty rejection letter, and that hurt.

Rejection is everywhere and can happen anytime, whether it be a subtle look from a friend where you suddenly realize that this is probably the end of your friendship, a jerk-like nod from your idol whom you only wanted acknowledgement from, not even getting a letter from Northeastern University when you think you're a 16 year old child prodigy, that boy, those many boys, going to a school where you definitely don't belong, moving to a city where you definitely don't belong, lack of connection, miscommunication, misunderstanding, or a feeling like you truly have a connection with someone or something and it going nowhere for various reasons. It's that sock in the stomach, the horrendous disappointment and fear because you feel as if for that moment before then that you just wasted your time, and it could have been spent elsewhere, but like I said, it can happen anywhere, anytime... no need to live our lives in fear because it's just another experience to add to the long list of experiences you have.