100 of the best worst rejection letters as a playwright & recipes from fellow artists to self sooth
Nobel and Pulitzer Prize-winning Saul Bellow had this to say about rejections: "I discovered that rejections are not altogether a bad thing. They teach a writer to rely on his own judgment and to say in his heart of hearts, 'To hell with you.'"
Recipes and Rejection is American playwright/performer/dancer/teacher Karen Cecilia's defiant 'to hell with you moment'. A collection of 100 of her best worst rejections from theatres turning down her scripts is funny, heart-wrenching and depressing in equal measure.
You'll be pleased to know her bijou-sized book fits easily into a small handbag, with plenty of room left for an on trend Shih Tzu or Chihuahua. That is if you can afford to own and feed a small dog, as I imagine the sort of readers who will gravitate towards Cecilia's tome of refusals might struggle with rigorous pet ownership and maintenance.
Cecilia argues that rejection as an artist is a deeply relatable theme within the artistic community. One day, after receiving yet another rejection from one of her playwriting submissions – have a nice day! – she had a good rummage through her file of 'thank you very much, but no thank you' letters and emails. After some sorting, she chose the 100 best of the worst, with names of the theatres redacted and names of sendees omitted.
Mercifully, the unrelenting rejections are peppered with the odd recipe – by odd, I mean both occasional and quirky – from Cecilia and her friends. Solace through food and drink can perhaps make the jolt of negativity from an uncaring script editor or office lackey given the task of reading piles and piles of plays somewhat less harsh. Certainly, the recipes offer breathing space and often raise a wry smile.
The first letter is a humdinger, with the admission that the reader had missed Cecilia's email and "only now just found it when cleaning out my in box." It gets worse: "I was under the impression that they had emailed everybody." Ouch.
Typos don't place the industry in great stead, from "45 mins plus in lenght", and "consodertion" (an interesting take on consideration), to "it was a difficult to only choose 25." Honestly, it's not all that hard to use spell-check.
Some can't be bothered to use Cecilia's name. "Hello", Dear Playwright", and "Dear Applicant" are some examples. Others are overly friendly: "Hi, Karen!" and "Karen!" Loud exclamation marks don't make the bad tidings any less gruesome.
There are excuses for not replying earlier, such as staff shortages, project cancellations, Covid and being swamped with more scripts than anticipated. I don't quite buy the Covid justification, as surely if you're isolating in lockdown at home, you have all the time in the world to read scripts.
"We thank you for the honor of getting to spend time with your script" is downright creepy, while saying "we have decided to go in a different direction this year" is hugely unhelpful. Can't they tell Cecilia what that direction is so she knows what they're looking for? And I was baffled by "your play was simply too good to make it to our finals". If it was simply too good, doesn't that make it a highly desirable prospect?
And there's the rudely abrupt: "Appreciate your thinking of us for this one, but I'm afraid we aren't going to use it." Thanks a lot, guys! And those sneakily trying to get the probably down-at-heel playwright to fork out money for the "script coverage service" on offer.
Sadly, only a couple of the rejections were heartening or in any way helpful. I liked "what a ballsy choice of subject!", an offer to participate in playwrighting workshop seminars (one hopes this is free of charge), and "the reader recommended sharing some encouraging feedback".
One of the least tactful missives starts with "I have some good news and some bad news." The bad news is that Cecilia's script ended up in a file that got misplaced, meaning she has to wait until the following year to get any response. The sendee claims to be sorry, but undoes everything by adding: "I only discovered it recently, when a playwright friend of mine inquired about why she did not receive any feedback."
Just when it's all too dispiriting, you come across the jolly, madcap recipes that include: Sad Day Peanut Butter sauce that involves curry paste rather randomly, Mug 'O Cake where you freeze slices of fudgy chocolate cake and then decant one into a mug (of course you do), and the anonymously donated The Magic Spoon: grabbing spoonfuls from various containers in the fridge. "Eat Done. Just like that potential opportunity that never happened."
By the time I reached the end of Cecilia's book, I felt like flying out to New York and presenting her with an elegantly crafted acceptance letter. One can only hope she gets many favourably receptive communications. Who knows, maybe some of them will be written with kindness and sincerity. And there won't be any typos.
Recipes and Rejection: 100 of the best worst rejection letters as a playwright & recipes from fellow artists to self sooth is in paperback and available from Amazon at £5.99.
Photo credit: Karen Cecilia
Cover design: Emilee Lord
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