Too many fish in the sea

It's a good thing most rejection letters
aren't this blunt!

With the holidays here, many, many submissions deadlines for festivals and development opportunities are behind us (Fall’s a big time for that, huh?). It’s time to relax, write, eat lots of good food, catch up with folks we haven’t seen in ages…and look forward to the next wave of deadlines in the new year.



And, as these cycles go, acceptances from submissions made earlier in the year are starting to roll in. But you know, for every acceptance, there’s going to be a rejection. Or, maybe more like fifty rejections.  Not that I’m bitter. Really.  After all, The Marvelettes taught us, “into each heart, some tears must fall.” Side note: In fact, that’s a song chock full of life lessons (not to mention really great 1960s hair), so here it is:

The Marvelettes singing 'Too Many Fish in the Sea.'

What I’m actually getting around to (in the newspaper world this is called “backing into a story”; in the regular world, it is called “rambling”) is sharing an excellent blog post about rejection by someone who regularly spends time on both sides of the submissions fence, NYC-based playwright Kathleen Warnock.

On a personal note, I meticulously record every submission (and related communications) I make to a theatre, and then make a point of forgetting all of it. No kidding. I don’t make a calendar; I don’t obsessively track what-theatre’s-going-to-be-getting-back-to-people-when kind of stuff. Honest. Oh, I’ll check in with my submissions list every so often, just to see where things are, but that’s it. This way, anything that works out really feels like a gift. How do you handle rejection? Add a comment…

[And when you get good news, alums, do let us know about it.]