So wrote Oscar Wilde over a century ago, in the preface of his only novel, The Picture of Dorian Gray. This amuse-bouche almost seems out of place in a work that many consider a Victorian horror novel. Oscar Wilde was a man of wit and knew first-hand the fickle whim of societal tastes. He would spend the end of his life exiled from England after serving two years in a British jail for "indecency."
Wilde would later go on to write in that preface: Diversity of opinion about a work of art shows that the work is new, complex, and vital.
And:
Vice and virtue are to the artist materials for an art.
And:
When critics disagree the artist is in accord with himself.
And most importantly:
All art is quite useless.
Oscar, like myself, was not one to suffer fools. Aside from The Picture of Dorian Gray, he went on to pen several standards for the stage. Among them, The Importance of Being Earnest, An Ideal Husband, and the controversial Salome. And that stint in jail I mentioned earlier? No sooner had he been set free than he set fire to his enemies with the epic poem The Ballad of Reading Gaol. Perhaps folks didn't get what he was trying to do, and perhaps they didn't approve.
That doesn't mean it ever stopped him from getting it done.
I also think it was elegantly stated by another gentleman from across the pond.
"Rejection is one thing, but rejection from a fool is cruel."
- Stephen Patrick Morrissey
Or if you're looking for something a little more red, white, and blue...
Rejection is something that builds an artist. It adds a thicker layer of skin. It opens one's eyes a little wider to the process and the bullshit. Someone can argue that it adds a different perspective to the work, but what if the work needs to operate in complete ignorance of that perspective? How are we supposed to gauge which criticism is helpful and which is not? Is the criticism pure?
Who gets a say in your work, or the interpretation of your work?
Who gets a say in your work, or the interpretation of your work?
DO NOT GET ME WRONG. I am not saying all criticism should be ignored. There are professional people out there who sincerely wish to see people's work made better. I have received very kind feedback from people who wanted to help me get a leg up and, to these people, I am forever indebted. But sometimes there are mean, petty people out there who come from a very dark place of their own and feel like taking a sledgehammer to other people's work because their own work is shoddy, makeshift, and suspect.
And I know what you are thinking: "But Eryk, what the devil do you know about being rejected? You've got plenty film festival awards and published stories, novels, etc. The world must be handed to you on a silver platter."
Au contraire. I get my fair share of rejections, even still. Ever so often, I still encounter some grumpy, foul troll who steps from beneath his bridge to check the Inbox for submissions and, perhaps he has neglected his medication, perhaps the old pecker isn't firing on all cylinders... Regardless, something's got this guy's knickers in a bunch and, lo and behold, he receives my query and FINALLY he has a proper forum into which he may vent his aggressions! Nothing more could possibly soothe him than to send me curled into the fetal, awash in salty tears.
For those kinds of people, a simple form rejection letter would hardly suffice, would it?
So, with no further ado...
TOP FIVE REJECTION LETTERS I'VE RECEIVED
5. FROM AN AGENT WHO DIDN'T LIKE DIRTBAGS.
"I really tried to like this, but there was not one single likable character in this book. I also felt the enthusiasm in the book did not match that of your in-person pitch. Furthermore, you told me the book was funny. The situations in this book could hardly be described as 'funny.'"
THE REPLY I WANTED TO SEND, BUT DIDN'T
Hey lady, thanks for reading my book. I am a long believer that there's something for everyone in this world, and it turns out DIRTBAGS was not for you. Looking back, I should have divined as much during that in-person interview you referenced. I heard the uppity accent and the way you looked down your nose at me, but I was totally hungover and I thought you didn't like the smell. It was a writer's conference, and this is how I was told to behave. Also, I was completely distracted by your legs, which were quite fit and didn't seem to match the rest of you. Overall, I kept thinking how, with a good honest roll in the hay, you might actually be someone worth having a conversation with in real life, and therefore didn't listen to much of anything you said with your mouth. So I could be excused for misreading your sensibilities, given the circumstances. I am glad I left such an impression on you, however. And furthermore, as far as my book not being "funny," allow my man William E. Wallace to tell you at which platform you may debark.
4. FROM AN UNNAMED FILM FESTIVAL IN AN UNNAMED FOREST COMMUNITY
"No."
THE REPLY I WANTED TO SEND, BUT DIDN'T
Hey man, I was a little put off by the simple, one word rejection of my film and couldn't help but think there was a little anger boiling behind those two letters. I couldn't, for the life of me, think of why and I decided to google your name to see why on earth you could be so angry at poor little me. I saw we went to the same college, but I still couldn't place you. So I asked an old friend if they knew you and if they knew how we might know each other and all my friend said was:
"Seriously? You really don't remember?"
"Seriously? You really don't remember?"
That's never good.
Turns out, one night I went trolling for townies and took up with a girl that turned out to be your girlfriend. I'm really sorry about that. I was in Party Mode back in those days and, since I don't remember half of them, really think my behavior ought to be excused. Best I can tell, nobody got pregnant so we should let bygones be bygones. I have another film coming out and I would really like to screen it there, if possible. Is there some way we can settle this before the early deadline?
3. FROM A LITERARY MAGAZINE
"This is a great story with great moments, but I really think you could trim it down from its size. I'm
MY RESPONSE: "Excellent. Thanks a lot. Here it is, trimmed from 12000 words to 8000 words. Thank you for your help."
HIS RESPONSE:
MY RESPONSE: "Hi. It's been one month since I heard from you regarding my story. Were the cuts adequate?"
HIS RESPONSE: "Sorry. I thought you new [sic] that by not responding, it meant we were rejecting it."
THE REPLY I WANTED TO SEND, BUT DIDN'T
I was kind of hoping when you didn't respond it was because someone ripped your head off and stuffed it down your toilet. Just checking.
Or maybe you were too busy to reply because you were busy reading that 8000 word story which was later serialized in Pantheon Magazine. Who fucking knows.
2. FROM A ORGANIZATION AWARDING A GRANT
"The judge and panel thought your work showed great promise and agreed that working with you might be valuable, but our main concern is the sheer volume of your writing. You work in film and fiction, and we fear that working on so many different projects does not seem to encourage you to find time to really dig deep into the craft of writing."
THE REPLY I WANTED TO SEND, BUT DIDN'T
Please thank the panel for their time. Also, please assure them that while many of my rejection letters end up in the wastebasket, this one is going into a frame and will be hanging on my wall. So often, while writing 8-10 hours per day, I find I need a little levity, or a break from taking things too seriously. I believe this letter will serve to do just that.
(Note: OK, I lied. I actually sent that one.)
1. FROM A FILM FESTIVAL
"Do you have another cut of your film? Perhaps a nine minute version? I see a pretty good film in there, but as it stands, I wonder if this length will allow it more traction. Most films are made in the editing suite, you know. Use the film form to tell this story, don't tell it the way people enjoy reading it!"
THE REPLY I WANTED TO SEND, BUT DIDN'T
Dear Dipshit, I am glad you asked if we had another cut of the film lying around. I didn't know you wanted the nine minute version. It's sandwiched right here between the eight and ten minute version. I don't know what kind of crap-tastic films you've been forcing people to watch, but the ones I make have pictures locked and sound mixed and music scored... I wasn't slick enough to remember that I would have to recut it for entry into your festival. And thanks for the extra tidbit, that movies are made in the editing suite. I had no idea. I was too busy doing things like WORKING ON THE FILM IN THE EDITING SUITE WITH THE EDITOR. Thanks for the e-correspondence film school lessons! I'll get cracking on that alternate cut tout suite!
The above example best illustrates my point. A simple rejection letter would have sufficed. I work hard and have worked hard my entire life. I have sources where I can find constructive criticism and I seek them out. I exhaust them. So many of my most valuable friends have been haunted by me in a late night phone call or a flurry of text messages, begging their opinions of a project. My poor wife, listening as I measure every sentence or piece of dialogue. The kind and generous souls in my writer's group who offer their unrestricted opinions. To all of these people I have trusted and depended upon and they have helped me immensely. I better not start naming names or we will be here all day.
What about my own experience? I have a degree in Literature. How do you like that? Also, a degree in History. I have been reading stories for as long as I can remember and I have developed my own sense of taste. Like Hank III says, "Not everybody likes us..." It's true. I write what I want to read. I make the films I want to watch. If it's not for you, please don't bother with it. I do not have the time to stop and consider your past and your experiences and your body of work and your tastes. I wish to high heaven I knew them before I paid your festival fee or I would have saved the money. I wish I knew not to wait for your reply, because you ain't going to send it. I wish I knew if it was a film or literary professional standing at the gate, or if it was just some clown with an attitude.
Because, based on my experiences, nobody likes a fucking clown with an attitude.
