Over forty years of pursuing my practice as an artist and author, I know the disappointment of rejection. It began in my youth; rejection led to feelings of not being good enough, hurtful relationships, and poor grades. The struggles of pursuing education after high school, undergrad, and graduate school came with conditions of “probation.” I had difficulty processing my fear of rejection, which soon became a predicted response, impacting my lack of confidence, which disappointed me more.
The emotions of “not being good enough,” “Why do I keep trying?” or “Why pursue art at all” floated in and out of my brain constantly. I also compared myself to others, which is counterproductive, I might add.
Twenty years passed when I realized I held on to rejection letters like a kid collecting trading cards. Harboring proof of rejection became a caustic criticism and negativity. Then, one day, I boldly tossed hundreds of rejection letters. Now, I hit the delete button on an email and move on.
In The Artist Way, Julia Cameron explains how to sort out the “kinds” of criticism; not all are “useless.” Cameron writes, “Creativity is the only cure for criticism.”
As artists, we can just as quickly be denied entry to a juried show or gallery as we can be accepted. Rejection may be disappointing, but it usually means there is another opportunity that is a better fit. It is hard to know the difference, but the truth is, if it causes us to give up and spiral downward emotionally, then we allow rejection to win. Sharing our art feels vulnerable, at times, because we fear criticism.
However, creating our work is too important for each of us to let rejections get the best of us. Learning to accept rejections is a part of our practices in writing, music, art, etc., but the problem is we are sensitive beings.
One thing that has helped me is researching rejection in the creative world. We are in awe of works of art, epic novels, and symphonic masterpieces; it is hard to imagine that the creators of those art forms also faced rejection and criticism during their lifetime. Can you imagine life without creativity? What if writers, artists, or musicians listened to their critics, no longer fueled by their passion to move forward?
In The Creative Act: A Way of Being, Rick Rubin explains the importance of tuning out these “outside voices” that interfere with our creativity. “These voices are not our own. We have internalized someone else’s judgment.”
I have learned that rejection gives me time to improve my skills and teaches me humility, but it does not need to define me.
What have you learned from rejections? What helps you focus on your work despite the outside voices? How do you move forward? I would love to read your comments.
