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How to Support Your Writer (or Artsy) Friend

8/29/2022

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There is one in every group. That one person in your friend group that does that artsy thing. Maybe they're a writer, a playwright, an actor, a designer, a painter, an illustrator, a director, really into theatre etc. You don't quite understand this passion of theirs. You don't get how they make a living. And you are often confused by the industry terminology in general. But, at the end of the day, despite the setbacks and frustrations, your artsy friend is happy or proud or fulfilled. At minimum, this artsy thing gives them a sense of purpose and you want to support that. If you are wondering how you can be an active supporter for your writer (or artsy) friend, click through the presentation or choose your own adventure below and discover supportive options big and small! Full disclosure, I'm using myself and my current project, Murder, We Spoke, as the example. But feel free to apply this to any and all of your artsy friends.

I Must be a Masochist - A Playwright's Burnout Journal

8/12/2022

Entry # 2
Maybe They're Just Not That Into Me

I think every playwright has heard a few sayings when it comes to submissions and rejections.
“Rejection is just protection.”
“It’s not a ‘no,’ it’s a ‘not yet.’”
“You were rejected from this so you could achieve another…”
“It’s a game of numbers, the more you enter, the more your odds go up.”

My favorite: “Just keep submitting – every year – so, they get to know you through your drafts and variety of plays. They will start to recognize your name and watch your writing grow.” This piece of advice is something I have in fact given to students and other playwrights.

I truly believed it, or at least I wanted to. But, how do you know when it’s okay to keep believing and when to just face reality that maybe they're just not that into you?

I wanted this to be so desperately true. As long as you keep submitting – every year – to that theatre, to that competition, to that festival whenever their calls for submissions opened, that one day, an acceptance would come. A literary manager would see my name - every year - and say something like, “Wow, here she is again!” or “Geez, she seems really dedicated, what a great work ethic.” Or, “Another new play! Her writing is definitely progressing, I bet we could help her take the next step.”

Let me tell you what actually happened to me...

Every year I applied to The Hub.
Every year I applied with a new play.
I applied with visceral, provocative plays. I applied with wholesome plays that reeked of optimism. I applied with experimental plays.
And every year, I got the same rejection.

I took The Hub up on their offer to receive feedback on my application, which by the way, is no small feat to complete. The application – every year – requires an artistic statement, letter of intent, two recommendations, resume, bio, and I might be forgetting something…or yeah, your actual play.

Every year, their feedback would come in the form of:

THE HUB: Loved your work…just didn’t see how our resources could help you with what you outlined in your letter of intent.

ME: Okay, I will adjust my letter of intent to be more specific.

THE HUB: Loved your work and great application! Just didn’t see how this particular play you submitted speaks to what you described in your artistic statement.

ME: Okay, I will rewrite my artistic statement and make sure it relates to my submitted play.

On and on and on. But then, this happened…

THE HUB: You had such a strong application and truly your work was well received and loved by the readers across the board. It was very close. You were right at the finish line. There isn’t any more helpful criticism we can provide because everyone agreed the play and the application represented a strong candidate that would be an excellent fit IF we had more space.

ME (Internally): What the fuck do I do with that?

I did what I always do…I submitted again. I figured a strong application and a well-liked play might make it in this time. After all, it is “a game of numbers,” right?

As of 2022, I received another, “Thanks, but no thanks.”

What am I missing? What am I not saying? What am I saying too much of (is that a thing?) What balance am I not striking? What is The Hub looking for, exactly? Do they want someone with a following? With multiple productions? With the “right” recommender? With the “right” work with the “right” workshops and affiliations that are just as prestigious as them?

This is the bigger question…should I just quit (submitting to them?)

Honestly, the time and effort put into their applications, finding different recommenders - every year - I could put that energy into a different playwriting submission somewhere else.

I’m really curious, is there ever a time you realized that it isn’t a “not yet.” That it isn’t “a game of numbers.” That it isn’t anything we were told? That maybe they’re just not that into you and you really should take the hint and move on.

I Must be a Masochist - A Playwright's Burnout Journal

8/4/2022

Entry # 1
Stats

I began my playwriting “submission mission” back in 2016. I had always submitted to playwriting festivals here and there in the past, but in 2016 I had the confidence, the training, the body of work, and the resources to start becoming a professional play-submitter.

Six years later, I stare at my submission tracker that is filled with over 300 play submission opportunities. I use a color coding system that helps me track how many submissions I’m waiting to hear back from (yellow,) I was accepted (green,) how many I advanced in - like a semi-finalist (blue,) and how many I was flat-out rejected from (red).

Red absolutely covers my screen. The next prominent color is unfortunately, yellow and no, they aren’t “fresh” submissions. It's simply because the theatre festival never replied or updated me on my status. After about a year of no response, I consider it a rejection and move on. On average, I have about a 71% rejection rate to date (August 5, 2022.)

Optimism VS. Realism

71%. There are probably optimists out there who look at that and say, “It’s not 100%!” but unfortunately, I’m worse than an optimist…I’m a realist. My acceptance rate is about 8%. The rest are covered in yellow with bits of blue. If I faced an 71% rejection rate and only an 8% acceptance or success rate at my survival job (day-job,) meaning 71% of my requests for professional development, promotions, pay raises, benefits, work/life balance, etc are rejected…I would quit that job.

No. No Thanks. Nope. Nah. Hell No.

In fact, I have quit jobs like that and moved on to better opportunities that were more fulfilling or at least helped me pay my bills on time. So, why do I stay in this position where close to three-quarters of the time I hear the word, “no?” The truth is, I don’t know why I keep coming back. Why do I keep on this “submission mission” when every rejection only makes that number grow and that 71% gets heavier and heavier. I feel like I'm rolling a boulder up a hill, but I’ll never reach the top.

You want to know what makes that boulder even heavier? I’m not the only one. Think about that 71% and increase that exponentially. This isn’t meant to guilt trip anyone who gets accepted, or wins an award, or makes it to the final round (seriously, congrats!) But the reason I’m sharing this is because that’s all we ever hear about. We only hear about the wins. The highlights. Including from me. Of course it is important to celebrate the wins. They’re amazing! But it’s so important to remember we are all carrying boulders. Maybe if we shared those boulders, they wouldn’t be so heavy.

How to Support Your Writer (or Artsy) Friend

I Must be a Masochist - A Playwright's Burnout Journal

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I Must be a Masochist - A Playwright's Burnout Journal

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