 I went to a pathologically competitive middle school. Every action students took was judged and scored, and our tallies were public record. Naturally, participation in sports was by try-out only. Very unnaturally, I decided I wanted to be on a team, despite my total lack of ability.
On the second day of an already lackluster 7th grade softball try-out, a classmate and I were lobbing a ball back and forth in light rain. My glasses fogged up just as a fast, accurate pitch headed straight for my face and I caught it…in my mouth. My lower lip skewered itself on my lower teeth and although my upper front teeth stayed put, the blow killed the nerves and someday they’ll have to come out. I was back at try-outs the next day. I did not make the team. I was back at softball try-outs the next year. I did not make the team then, either. By the end of middle school I had tried out for every team and hadn’t been chosen for a single one. I think about that experience a lot. Of course it was humiliating and public proof of my “loser” status. It launched a lot of tropes about teams and being left out that I still struggle with more than 30 years later. It undermined my childish expectation that adults would be kinder and more just than children. And I have to wonder what might have happened if I had redirected that focus and tenacity towards activities I was actually any good at. But that experience also gave me a valuable skill that probably wouldn’t have come from a childhood of easy success: when absolutely necessary, I can take it in the teeth and come back for more. For a professional artist, resiliency might be even more useful than a facility with color wheels or vanishing points. In my earlier blog post, I talked about the “shadow CV” of rejections that scaffold the public CV of my successes. Here are a few of the practical and emotional tools that have helped me along the way. 1. Get Your Mise en Garde A chef doesn’t chop parsley or make stock every time an order comes in. Nope, they get ready for a shift by pre-preparing all of the ingredients that expect to use most often; the practice of mise en garde lets them work more quickly while having the flexibility to deal with that “special” customer who insists on ordering off-menu. In terms of applying for art opportunities, there are things you will need over and over: a resume, images, references, etc. By anticipating these general needs and preparing accordingly, you can work on individual applications more efficiently, you can better respond to last-minute opportunities, and you give self-doubt less of a foothold. 2. Build a Ladder I try to apply for at least one thing (show, grant, teaching gig, etc) per month, which helps to smooth out both logistical and emotional bumps. My more natural inclination is to do a whole batch of applications when the mood strikes, but then I am likely to have a soul-crushing batch of rejections arriving around the same time (or very rarely, a stack of simultaneous acceptances, which is its own kind of problem). By sending stuff out monthly, I usually get one rejection at a time, and usually by the time it arrives I have the next application out the door; each rejection stings less because I’ve already moved on. 3. Dress for the Job You Want Direct the bulk of your energies towards applications for which you are qualified, but every once in a while treat yourself to a long shot. Sometimes I’ll complete an application for something and not turn it in because I just want to test drive a possible new direction for my work or career. Sometimes I’ll go ahead and turn it in and then pay close attention to how the eventual rejection makes me feel; if “meh,” I redirect my efforts elsewhere, but if I’m really upset I look carefully at the steps I would need to take to be a stronger candidate the next time a similar opportunity comes along. And very occasionally I make it to the interview phase; I’ve never gotten an opportunity for which I was completely unqualified, but I have reaped valuable connections, feedback, and motivation. 4. Audition Amnesia One of my co-teachers at a youth arts camp was a professional hip-hop dancer. He had had a huge career but as he slid into middle age, he was booking fewer and fewer gigs. How did he not just give up and sink into the La-Z-Boy of despair? He had trained himself to forget about an audition the second it ended. He didn’t replay it in his mind and beat himself up about things he could have done differently. He didn’t hover by the phone waiting for it to ring. If it did ring, it was a surprise—maybe a good one, maybe a bad one, but one that hadn’t cost him any unnecessary time or emotional energy. I can verify that amnesia is learnable; I couldn’t tell you the last three things I’ve applied without checking my notes and I’m happier for it. 5. You Already Have the “No” The Listserve was a mailing list of people from all over the world, one of whom was chosen at random to send a message to the entire list each day. One writer shared a nugget of advice that has proved to be the most valuable reframe in my emotional arsenal. She asked her mentor how she, the mentor, managed to remain resilient in a highly competitive field; the mentor said, more or less, “If you don’t try, you already have the ‘no.’” This is similar to the idea that you miss all the balls you don’t swing for in the way it argues for missed opportunities being the default, but it adds a level of agency and emotional nuance. First of all, if anyone’s going to reject me, I’d sure rather it not be me doing the rejecting. Second, when you send out an application, you’re not giving them the chance to reject you; you’re giving them the opportunity to accept you. I hope that something here will be of use to you or to someone you care about! And if you have any strategies that allow your own Weeble to wobble without actually falling down, I would be very happy to hear about them. After all, the rejections won’t stop until I do!
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