How I Deal With Rejection


Being in any creative field comes with rejection. To deal with it, some people drink; others go to therapy. I’m pretty sure I deal with it best. Some examples:

The hundreds of projects my headshot is submitted to that I don’t even get an audition for:

Hundreds of casting directors look at my headshot. “Oh my God,” they collectively think. “This girl is simply too devastatingly beautiful to play the non-speaking role of ‘woman in line at grocery store.’ Surely she will take away all focus from our lead, *insert gorgeous actress’s name here*, and clearly this can’t happen. Nope, to the bottom of the pile she goes- I’ll keep her in mind for Angelina Jolie’s next project, though, when I need to cast Angie’s twin sister.”

Mila Kunis gets the grocery store role(s).

The multi-billion dollar company’s commercial I got a callback for but didn’t book, that would’ve paid 2 years worth of rent:

“Wow,” the company’s multi-million dollar ad agency says, as they watch my callback on tape, “She’s just TOO good. Clearly her years of training in theater and improv have prepared her for this role, but, you know what? People will see her in this commercial, and they’ll say, ‘Who’s that girl? She’s amazing! We’ve never known what true talent was until laying eyes upon her. Who IS she?! WE MUST KNOW! But wait, what was the product she was advertising for again? Eh, who cares?! We must know who SHE is!!'”

The millionaire executive representing the multi-billion dollar company jumps up from the conference table and screams, “THAT MUST NEVER HAPPEN!”

Boring, uninteresting person who didn’t pass level 101 at UCB books the job.

The 200 postcards I sent out to theatrical agencies, of which I got 2 responses:

After picking up the 200 postcards from my mailbox, the mailman checks his watch and notices that he’s fifteen minutes behind schedule. “Oh no!” he shudders, “If I’m late one more time, I’ll be fired!” With time against him, he bursts out of my apartment building and bounds down the steps to his waiting mail truck. Only- where is it?! Oh no! Scroundrels have absconded with it- he can just make out the back of the truck as it hooks a sharp left onto Ventura. The mailman, knowing he’ll surely be fired for this negligence, takes off running and screaming after it. Only, his heavy mailbag holds him back. “I…must…run…faster…!” he grunts. He knows he must lighten his load. He reaches into his mailbag and grabs whatever’s on top- 198 of my precious postcards. Making his way down the street, he chucks them into the air, telling himself he’ll come back and get them once he’s retrieved his truck. “After all, the handwritten personalized messages on each card means she spent many hours of great care on them! Not to mention the high cost of 198 postage stamps, which even I think is ridiculous!” he thinks to himself.

Except, in his panic, he didn’t realize that he was now on the bridge over the LA River, and all 198 thrown postcards landed in the raging brown water below, never to be seen again.

So only the 2 remaining got mailed, which is totally fine, because I really didn’t need to deal with getting 198 more calls from agents pleading to let them represent me, yuck.

The writing job for a Reality show I didn’t get:

The executive producer, reading my packet, says, “Hmm. She reminds me of an elevated, more-evolved Tolkien or Hemingway. We need to keep reality TV crappy. Also, her talent intimidates me. Don’t hire her. Let her continue sharing her writing gift to the world in the form of a blog she updates once every six months.  The people need her.”

Reality TV stays crap.*  I update blog after eight months.

*This statement is actually true.

In Summary:

Sure, maybe creating fantastical stories of denial isn’t the best way to handle rejection. But I haven’t gone on a killing spree just yet, so it’s gotta be working at least a LITTLE bit.  Join me.

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