Five Writers

I am the daughter of a Marine aviator.  I have two older brothers who were mean to me in the way older brothers are to younger sisters who want to tag along and do everything they do.   I began my career as a competitive athlete at age five.

I have a tough skin.

I spent twenty years in advertising where my copy was frequently critiqued and rewritten by the wife of one of my clients.  I once had a newspaper editor slash all but ten words of a story.  When my son started preschool at not-quite two, he routinely pushed me out the door when I dropped him off and cried when I came to pick him up.

Really, alligators have nothing on me.

I know rejection is a real issue for some writers – for many writers.  And I’m not trying to make light of this – really I’m not.  I know it’s painful and it’s costly and it makes us wonder if we should be doing something more constructive with our lives.  But here’s the thing . . .

No one ever asked me to become a playwright.

In dark dreary moments, I remind myself that no one ever said, “We can’t live without your brilliant words.”  No one promised me productions or awards or accolades.  I CHOSE this line of work.  And I chose it knowing full well how many theatres are producing new work (not a lot) and how many playwrights are writing new work (gazillions)!  But I decided that creating characters, exploring the human condition, following the “what if . . .” thought to its conclusion was something I wanted to do.  Something I love to do.  Something I don’t know how to stop doing.

Even if no one wants to read it.

Yes, it’s exciting to get my little red SASPs in the mail requesting a full copy of the script.  Yes, it’s great to get a phone call from an Artistic Director who wants to produce my work.  And yes, there is no feeling in the world like a standing ovation.  So those are the moments I cling to when the rejections flood in.  “You don’t know what you’re missing,” I think as I file the letter.  “Someday you’ll produce one of my plays,” I whisper as I save the email to my rejection folder.

It helps to remember rejection isn’t always about us.  It’s often about “them”.  Dawn thinks I’m funny.  I had to explain the same joke to Joe.  Naomi thinks I write characters with lots of depth.  Glen thinks I write talking heads.  So does Nancy, come to think of it.  The point is, writing is subjective.  Or as the saying goes, “There’s just no accounting for taste.” Clearly, I have it – those who send me rejection letters, don’t.

Besides I’ve learned there are things worse than rejection.  Like productions.  Believe me, there are times rejection would have been kinder.  Like when a 65 year-old actress was cast in the role of a 35 year-old woman at her grandfather’s funeral.  Or when a director decided to rewrite an ending she didn’t think the audience would get.  Or when a musical theatre guy decided to “spice up the show” by ad-libbing a song and dance number in the middle of a scene.

Maybe I’m just rationalizing.  (If you follow my posts you know how much I like to rationalize!)  Maybe I’m not as sensitive as a writer is supposed to be.  Maybe I don’t care about my work enough.  Or maybe, just maybe, I have the perfect epidermis for a playwright.

Now please write some nice affirming comments below.