Rejection is one of those things every human being has to deal with on a daily basis; whether it’s about asking someone on a date, applying for a dream job, joining a social group, running for leader of a party or Prime Minister, or submitting an artistic piece of work. Anything in which we need acceptance, approval or the ego boosting opinion of others, there is the certainty of rejection. No matter how self-confident a person is, they feel distressed and crushed when rejected and it doesn’t get any easier, each rejection is a fresh wound that needs time to heal.
Why am I talking about rejection, well because I submitted a script to yet another competition and several days ago received an email that it’s being considered for the second round. I know, it should be a time to celebrate this partial victory and I did whoop and holler around my flat for a good few minutes. However, reality set in and that little devil voice reminded me that this was a script had been rejected several times over by other competitions. So when I sent it off, not in a million years did I think it would actually get through, because I’d learnt through my experience that the stories I want to tell aren’t the stories the publishers/distributors think are commercial and would sell. I had prepared myself for another ‘we thank you for your submission, but unfortunately on this occasion…’ email.
Last year I made a short film which I was going to use as a showreel to either get work as a director or get funding for my first feature. I had no intention of sending it to film festivals, but I let my crew convince me otherwise, not that I needed much convincing. I knew it’s the way the industry works, I needed to win an award at a major festival, generate column inches, be the next greatest thing, to standout from the crowd. Was the film I made good enough to get into a festival, I thought so. What I didn’t consider was the sheer number of submissions each festival receives and the number of films they have to wade through. So the chances of being selected are quite small and have nothing to do with the quality of the film I made. I can say that today, but I can tell you now. That first rejection hurt like hell. A few tears were shed, junk food was consumed and some bad movies were watched.
I had deluded myself that my film More Cake was going to get into one of the major festivals. However 73 submissions later and a few thousand pounds in fees lighter, More Cake only got into 2 of those 73 festivals.
Let me not lie, I was bitter and bruised for about a week after the first slew of rejections, but then I remembered something I’d learnt when I sent my first script to the BBC. It was rejected and in normal Sade fashion I cried and hid under my duvet. However months later Radio 4 were looking for new writers, so I thought great, another opportunity has arisen. So I sat down wrote another script and sent it off along with the one that had been rejected, you know, just in case.
Weeks or it could’ve been months later, a white envelope sailed through the letter box and landed on my threadbare carpet. I picked it up, saw the logo of the BBC and immediately knew what it was. Still in my nightie, I crawled into bed, slit open the envelope, reached for a box of tissues and instead of the rejection I was expecting, read that my play had been shortlisted. Not the one I had specially written for the competition, but the play that had already been rejected. I blinked, reread the letter but the contents didn’t change. I was baffled, elated and beyond amazed. So when I went in to meet the commissioning editor, I voiced my bemusement and she said something that I try and remember each time I receive a rejection, she said ‘Sade, just because someone rejects your work doesn’t mean that it’s not good, it just means it hasn’t found the right reader.’
It’s not an easy thing to remember when you’re in the depths of despair and you think your self-worth is less than zero. So while I’m elated that my script is through to the next round, I know the chances of it getting to the next are slim. Not because I don’t think it’s not good enough, but because experience has taught me that other factors can prevent people from seeing the value of my voice. I sent Imagine This to at least twenty publisher before I took the plunge into the world of self-publishing and managed to win the Commonwealth Writer’s Prize.
My bff describes me as a pessimistic optimist and I guess she is right, because while a part of me reckons I don’t stand a snowball’s chance in a desert, there is another part of me that is hidden and buried deep somewhere in my psyche, it gently whispers into the crevices words of encouragement, of hope and of persistence. It says to me ‘Sade, this could be your turn to shine, so don’t give up hope.’ So after every rejection, I cry the hurt away (it never stops hurting) I pick myself up, dust myself off and I listen to that voice and look for the light despite the darkness.
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