A humble blog post, offered with gratitude for so much support… and for inspiration received from playwright Winter Miller.
This time of year, many playwrights find themselves anxiously awaiting emails and phone calls letting them know whether they’ve received any number of opportunities for which they might have applied. I call it Acceptance Season; I used to call it Rejection Season, but then my worldview shifted.
It can be a thoroughly crazy-making experience. As I write this blog post, I have been waiting for an email about one project in particular for exactly ten days, and I’m expecting a phone call (or not, depending on whether I’ve been selected for something else) early next week. I haven’t slept well, I haven’t been able to focus as easily as I normally can, and check my inbox and voicemail messages more than might be considered healthy. I know I’m not alone.
In pushing through my anxiety, I’ve been thinking about three things that help me more than, say, a pitiful pint of ice cream, and I thought I might share them in the hope that they help others, too.
First, remember that the odds are super-long. As I wrote about in an earlier post, success as a playwright can be damned hard to come by for anyone. The road we walk has a great many rocks to step over… so if you don’t get that commission or production or residency, think of the news as just another stone to kick out of your way while you’re taking a step forward. It’s an insignificant trifle, forgotten almost immediately. Focus on where you’re headed, not where you’ve been.
Second,  count your blessings. Our brains are almost painfully wired to focus on the things we don’t have, rather than on the abundance we’re surrounded by. Think of your family and friends. Your home, your health, your art: whatever reminds you of riches. Think of whatever writing you submitted: that’s yours, too, and nobody can take it away from you. Think of your next projects, too: the ideas that are already simmering in you brain. You might even look into the future: imagine yourself sitting in an audience somewhere, listening to everyone around you applauding for work you created. Make an abundant world in your mind and go there for a while.
Third—and this is a very important reminder—bask in others’ successes. (So much better than resenting them.) You know how whenever you watch a movie with a strong hero trying to achieve something big, and then they do, you feel like you’ve done it yourself? Your chest puffs out, you feel mighty, and you want to high-five somebody? Think of your friends and colleagues as heroes in exactly the same way. (Don’t waste time on envy; it’ll bring you down. It brings us all down.) Watch their lives like you’re watching a hero story. Let their achievements make you feel great: like you can conquer the world. You will feel terrific.
Thank you all for reading this. Thank you for being a part of my community, which gets bigger than I ever imagined every year. Thank you for inspiring me and for writing alongside me and for cheering me on. Thank you for your friendship and comradeship. Thank you and thank you again.
Great post! ‘Tis the season, indeed.
ONWARD.
Thank you, dear friend. I am so glad I know you!
Same here 🙂
Such a gorgeous post. Thank you. And it makes be very happy that you, Jami, and you, Gwydion, are dear pals!
Thank you, Renee. You are one of my heroes, and I hope you know that!
I’m so grateful to be a part of your community!
I’m grateful to be your friend!
Well said. I know exactly how you feel. It’s funny, most of the rest of the year, the rejections trickle in and it doesn’t matter, but all the summer stuff and a few of the other big things end up getting stacked up, and we’ve got that list in our heads of how many of the “big” chances are still out there (down to 10, but it’s gonna get whittled down fast, very soon). It’s important to try to keep perspective (though that can also sometimes just require that ice cream anyway). It helps to know that other folks are going through the same thing. Thanks for the wise words.
I know you must put these sentiments to the test ALL the time, what with the number of submissions you manage to incorporate into your life. If you happen to dip into that ice cream, who could blame you?
The reason why ice cream is the perfect food is because it can be used both for consolation AND celebration. For most submissions/rejections, they really don’t matter. In fact, a steady stream of rejections means that I’ve been doing my marketing work. But there are, of course, a few each year that really do hurt when they come in. The trick is to fight discouragement. (Don’t get me started on writing novels. I’m trying to find an agent for my new novel right now, and that’s a lot more high stakes, in a very defined universe, and lots of discouragement. How wise of me to add that to my mix.)
I honestly believe that if you aren’t doing something that makes you scared, at least now and then, you aren’t living a full life. I applaud you going for it! It’s a heroic act!
Big G– (Nice to meet you, finally, in NYC re: the New Play Exchange). I’m still in rejection season myself, (3 in one day!) but am full of the newest (finalist) hopes,and energy towards the latest (full length), etc. futures. Most pleasurably, just wanted to second your remark–and my feelings– towards a fellow playwright, Jeff Stoltzer, who has been having a great year so far. Yes, we can share in our comrades joys wholeheartedly.,
Great to have met you, Wayne! Remember: it’s only rejection season if you let it be 🙂
Nice column. Good to know I’m not alone. We met briefly at the DG breakfast.
Thank you, Mary Sue! Glad to have met you.
Thanks, Gwydion. I so needed that!
Great post, Gwydion! And so many of us go through it. A wise playwright friend once said to me that finalist lists are more telling than winners’ lists (in a season long ago, when I was going crazy as the eternal finalist) and I think that’s true for many reasons–not least of which is that comparing strong plays or proposals can be like comparing apples to (dare i mention it again) ice cream. The end-game often comes down to taste and politics.
I have to say in addition to your list of things to do, I would add: Have another game plan. Have at least one area of your writing life that is NOT dependent on waiting for outside opportunities–a Fringe show, a reading, anything.
When the disappointing letters start coming, I try to do one small thing for my writing that day. It might be writing a scene, or following up on a request to read something, or just going for a walk and dedicating my thoughts on that walk to X project. Lately I’ve also been trying to do one small thing for other artists each week–this can be putting people in touch with each other; telling someone if I loved their play; forwarding an opportunity. It helps more than I’d have imagined.
This is so terrific. Of course, I love your “have another game plan” suggestion: thus, in many ways, The Welders were born. But I REALLY love your “do something for others” idea — I work super-hard to promote my fellow playwrights and connect them to opportunities, and I love it! It makes me feel terrific and connected and part of something bigger than myself.
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thanks so much for this Gwydion. we only know each other through the internets 😉 and lots of mutual friends but wanted to share that your posts continually inspire me!
Thank you, Lisa! You’re very welcome. And I’m glad we know each other no matter how!
Abundance. Celebration. Ice Cream. Pshaw to rejection! Hooray Gwydion:)
Thanks, Heather!
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