A note for you, if you’re having a bad day.
Hi Friend,
Do you ever feel disappointed?
I mean, of course you do. You live in the world, you have hopes that things will go one way and then they go another, and then there it is! But personally, disappointment is an emotion that I usually try to smother with shame; it’s certainly not a feeling that I want to admit to anyone I’m feeling. Because if you’re disappointed, it also means you were WRONG about something — and being wrong about things isn’t culturally acceptable in the modern Western world.
If you’re a creative person, rejection is part of the deal: art is subjective, and not everyone is going to like the thing you make. You might apply for fellowships, submit your work for publication, interview for coveted jobs, ask to be considered for residencies, or publish things you worked hard on, hoping for positive reception. You might pay an application fee to show the organization that you’re serious about wanting the thing that you want. And then you might get an email subject lined “Your Application” — which is a universally bad sign. The email will thank you for your application, and it will tell you that there were an overwhelming amount of talented applicants and that the decision was very difficult. Then it will say “unfortunately,” and you won’t finish reading it.
I acknowledge that this is not a universal experience, and that not everyone applies for things for which they can be rejected via email. But existing in the world means that sometimes you’re rejected. There are plenty of real-life, non-form-written versions of an “unfortunately” email.
I don’t know what you do when you get one of these emails. Here is my emotional trajectory when I get one:
“Well, of course. It was always a long shot anyway. At least now I know, and I tried.”
“Wow, I am SO MATURE about this. Doot Doot Doot, time to move on to the next task. Look at how nobly I am moving on to the next thing!”
(Cries.)
“Why am I crying?! I mean, am I actually *disappointed*?! What did I THINK was going to happen??? Did I honestly think I had a chance at this thing?!”
“WHY DID I EVEN TRY!? THIS WAS SO STUPID! IF I ALWAYS KNEW I WAS GOING TO FAIL AT IT, WHAT WAS THE POINT OF EVEN TRYING?!?!”
“Oh my god, I am so ARROGANT and SELFISH. I can’t believe I’m allowing this to occupy so much emotional space! Do I even KNOW how LUCKY I am?!”
“Yes, lucky is the word. Because I haven’t EARNED anything. I have chanced into so much good fortune, and I didn’t even work hard enough to capitalize on it to the best of my ability. I am trash. I am nothing. I am a waste of human space. And WOW, here I am just THINKING ABOUT MYSELF, when I could be working on something MEANINGFUL. I am a giant wad of shit, and [organization] really dodged a bullet when they rejected me. I don’t even deserve the lowly form rejection I received. I am scum.”
(CRIES.)
“STOP CRYING! IT HAS BEEN AN HOUR!”
“Well, at least I didn’t tell anyone I applied for this thing. Now no one needs to know that I am *gasp* actually disappointed that I didn’t get it.”
And so on and so forth. In fact (and I know I’m not the only who does this), I don’t even let people proof-read my application materials, although I’m sure that would help, because I don’t want to have to tell my editor when I’m rejected. I think it’s downright CRUEL when applications require letters of recommendation, because then I face an email months in the future from a beloved mentor asking, “Did you ever hear back from so-and-so-place?”
Do you also hide your disappointment? Maybe you dress it up like something else: you feel “angry” or “hurt” or “unwilling to go to a party tonight.” It’s popular in the online writing community to “collect rejections” and treat them as cause for celebration, because they indicate that at least you tried. But here’s a radical idea: maybe it’s OK to be disappointed about even trivial things. Maybe you get to be sad about trying to achieve something and (for whatever reason) not achieving it, and no one needs to solve it or silver-lining it away. You can just feel it, without it having to be anyone’s fault (not even yours!).
And let me just add that if someone judges you for feeling disappointed, that’s a them problem. They have their own stuff to unpack. And while there may not be enough fellowships or residencies or awards to go around to everyone who wants or deserves them, the really important things are NOT scarce: compassion, love, kindness, and empathy. Maybe if you let your disappointment out and invite some of those abundant resources in, the disappointment will run its course, and leave you open sooner to the next big, brave risk.
Love,
Sophie
PS - So, you might be thinking, “Wow, this is so pointed. What did Sophie get rejected from recently?” And wanting to know the gossip of my life, and so here is a bulleted list of my recent rejections.
I was rejected from the On Being residency.
I was rejected from a second residency that you haven’t heard of, but was small and very well-suited to my exact skill set.
Our last three crops of New Yorker cartoons (you submit in batches of ten) were all rejected.
My book was not reviewed anywhere, which feels like a rejection — especially as I watch other people’s books gain traction and love.
These are all just the most recent ones. I was rejected from five separate residencies last year. I am regularly rejected, is the point.
And I find it disappointing.
Hi, my name is Sophie, and I’m disappointed by small things. And that’s OK!
Oh, and I got like 300 flea bites, which feels sort of like a rejection. Even though it’s actually the opposite.
Add this to your to-do list.
Is there a photo of you that you like? Pull it up and look at it and then give yourself a few compliments. No one’s looking. Say whatever feels good.
If there is no such picture, try to take one.
A drawing.
Here’s a drawing of my keys that I drew while looking at my keys at a meeting.
What’s on my mind this week.
(This will be about new parenthood. Skip it if you don’t want to read about new parenthood.)
T is having a sleep regression. It might not be EXACTLY a sleep regression because she puts herself back to sleep after she wakes up, but it’s not possible for me to not wake up when she does. When I got pregnant, we didn’t really have space for T in our house — like, there wasn’t a room that could be a nursery. But we DID have this weird shed / back porch / tool storage / screened in addition thing that our bedroom looked out on, and that was a total, unequivocal mess, and Luke said he could turn it INTO a nursery. It looked like this:
And somehow, Luke made it look like this:
And that is AMAZING that he even a LITTLE BIT knows how to do something like that. But the thing is that the windows (you can kind of see them on the left in the bottom photo) open right into our bedroom, and so if T even coos a little bit, you can hear it. For the first four nights of her sleep regression, we took turns getting up at 11 p.m. and 4 a.m. to rock her back to sleep; on night five we waited for two minutes and listened to her put herself back to sleep. But now I wake up every night at 3 a.m. in anticipation of her waking up at 4 a.m. and spend the hour worrying. I worry about money and about our future and about taking good enough care of her and about aging. I worry about my friends and my family in other places who I don’t feel like I talk to enough. I worry about my own failures and my shame and my shame about my shame about my failures. I lie in the bed with my eyes wide open, worrying, and then at 4 a.m., T wakes up, and then at 4:02 a.m., she puts herself back to sleep, and then at 6 a.m., I wake up and decide that I am too tired to go to Prayer Porch (which is at 6:30) and try to go back to sleep and fail. And now that I am living my life with a significant sleep deficit, I notice how all the hard feelings — depression, anxiety, worrrrryyyy — double over and repopulate tenfold; my sleepless emotional defenses are useless against them. So I’m in a real state of repeating, “This will not last forever. I will not feel this way forever.” Even though it absolutely feels like this is my life now and nothing will ever change. (Except that T will get older and will start to hate me, which is one of the worries that likes to bother me at 3:22 a.m.)
Extras.
Do you watch “The Great Pottery Throw-Down?” It’s like “The Great British Bake-Off,” except for pottery. And the Paul Hollywood of the whole affair is just so much better than Paul Hollywood. His name is Keith Brymer Jones, and his whole thing is that sometimes he is very moved by the pottery and he cries. Forget about a handshake — you make pots and you hope to make Keith cry. “Throw-Down” is maybe even GENTLER than “Bake-Off?” So… get on that.
My favorite recipe of the year is from “Vegan At Times,” and it’s quite simple and always a crowd pleaser: roast a cup or two of chopped shiitake mushrooms, a container of cherry tomatoes, and a few sprigs of thyme (all rubbed with olive oil) at 475 for 20 minutes. Meanwhile, make stovetop polenta: which is just cornmeal boiled in water until it’s creamy. Take your roasted things out, splash a cup of white wine in the pan, and then roast another 5 minutes. Add salt and pepper. Serve over the polenta. The end.
I HIGHLY recommend Spotify’s “Garden Indie” playlist — which… is that a genre? Because that’s my identity.
I think clothing rental is going to be big in the next decade, as we move away from fast fashion but still want to wear new things. I rent from nuuly, and it’s a little too expensive, but they all are. I love have six items of clothing that fit my body right now and don’t have to fit my body in a month.
Ice Breakers Ice Cubes bubble breeze gum is great and makes the best bubbles. You need two pieces for a truly epic bubble, but the bubble is, indeed, epic.
I assigned “Super Mutant Magic Academy” to my class this week and want to remind you that it is SO GOOD.
Oh, also: I promised last week I’d show you my newspaper for chickens. More on that soon, but for now, here’s a picture:
In our household I will routinely ask aloud "why isn't there a new season of Pottery yet?!" So thank you for another great newsletter and the reminder to look at HBOMax again because WOO HOO Season 5 is out! We loved the last host, but hopefully Rose and Keith and Rich will keep things rolling. Or spinning.
i am so sorry that you’re in the thick of sleep deprivation. i know that place so much. i hope you can get through this phase quickly and get some better rest soon! if you like to listen to ambient music or guided meditations you might try that during your 3am hour. insight timer is a great free app for that kind of thing!