Every “No” is One Step Closer to a “Yes”

No. Two letters.

They hold enough weight to crush a dream, enough power to derail a passion and carry a force big enough to wipe out a career.

As an actor I was taught to say yes to every opportunity, and I carry this philosophy with me in every facet of my professional life. What was never discussed was how to cope with hearing no, how to grow the infamous thick-skin and how to care for your…shhhhh don’t ever say it out loud…mental health!

Life in the arts is full of rejection.

How do you build resilience? How do you healthily deal with hearing no more that yes? When is a speed wobble ok and when should you pull the car over?

Over the past 6 years I have artfully avoided my own work. I had settled into the (pre-covid) relatively-risk-free life of salaried corporate entertainment. I had plenty of reasons and opportunities to make work during this time, and I had double the excuses to avoid it.

Over the last month I have accepted that it might be a long time before I can return to my life as I had come to know it, and I have pushed myself to look outside of my bubble of self-pity and start making things happen for myself.

I dusted off my hard drive of previous work. Looking at the work I made, it is hard to find a connection to it. I don’t want to use this work as a representation of who I am as a theatre maker now. I have six years of growth and development that are completely unaccounted for in these documents. I look at my pre-Master’s degree work as naïve and lacking depth, and yet I have no work after my Master’s that demonstrates the impact of my learning.

I tentatively started to rediscover the funding and support possibilities. Things are moving in the Arts in Ireland, money is being made available through a lot of sources and buying time for artists, like myself, to create new work. Amazing!

Then come the application requirements…

How do you represent experience but don’t have anything you want to show for it? How do you demonstrate your voice and originality when you didn’t create the shows you have worked on for 5 years? How do you demonstrate process when your day was akin to that of a data entry clerk in levels of creativity?

I received my first rejection this week. I slumped in the armchair and let the embarrassment wash through me. Someone had read a proposal I had made and said no. The only feedback was a vague explanation of oversubscription to the call.

The second rejection came a few days later. A generic email explained that it was not a reflection on the quality of the proposal.

My husband offered words of consolation and made me a cup of tea.

The next day I sat at my desk (or kitchen table as it is known at other times of the day) and opened the laptop. Another application was due.

With each proposal I write, I am discovering more about the work I want to make. In my podcast with Rory Prinsloo he talks about an art gallery manager not returning any of his messages and how he has come to view this person as his guru, a person who will never tell you what you want to hear, but instead will push you to be better. I’m starting to feel that these proposals and the subsequent rejections are becoming my guru.

Six years ago, each proposal I wrote was for an entirely new project, I had no clarity or focus in my work. Now, each proposal is based on the same project, or area of inquiry. Each proposal is actively forcing me to engage with the same questions; Why am I making this? Why does this story need to be told? How will I tell it?

Every iteration that appears on an application, clarifies an element of the performance and refines my thinking. The work is forming piece by piece, proposal by proposal.

I have worked with hundreds of high level athletes. Over the years I have watched (over the rim of a coffee mug) the discipline that their jobs require. I have seen the mundane, mind-numbing repetition of maintaining a body worthy of a romantic novel cover. I have seen some nail a new trick first time, and watched as jaws clench with anger when others fail after months of preparation. I have seen the tears from injuries, and watched the joy that a clear to train certificate brings. Most days I feel lucky that I don’t have the pressure of maintaining my body in this way, but increasingly I am becoming envious that I have never developed the practice of discipline.

I am gently teaching myself discipline. The applications are setting external deadlines. I have set myself deadlines for the blog and podcast. I treat this as my full-time job. I respect it as my job. I set boundaries. I do the jobs I don’t want to do. I write during the time I have available, not when I want to write. I’m seeing results. I’m watching my novel develop chapter by chapter. I’m seeing the research folder for a new show slowly prepare to turn into a script. As the rejection letters arrive, they are easier to ignore in favour of the work that is demanding attention.

I don’t pretend to know what resilience is (or even to have a huge amount myself), but I know that the discipline of working is helping. Creating routine is helping. Focusing on what I want to do, and why I want to do it is helping. Listening to others talk about their working practices is helping.

No, hurts.

Funding is necessary in some shape or form. But funding applications are part of the job, they are not the work. The work must be given the priority.

Let the no’s hurt. But don’t forget to drink the tea…go back to work…write the next application.

Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

Published in Collaboration with this creative nomad

this creative nomad podcast

Also on TheatreArtLife:

Do You Have a Fixed or Growth Mindset?

Practicing Proactivity: Imposter Syndrome