Dealing with rejection

I have a very good songwriting friend from the States. Whenever he’s angry because one of his tracks was turned down… I sympathize with him. Of course. As he sympathizes with me. We all know how it feels. But sometimes I’ll remind him that, in the grand scheme of things, having a track rejected isn’t the end of the world. I’ll remind him of his wife and kids, of what he has that’s good, the things that really matter.

Not that our creations aren’t important. But one rejection really doesn’t add up to a tragedy. It’s one blimp on the road to getting better, or submitting more effectively, or understanding what it is that we are pitching ('that sounds more country than rock'). It’s one more hearing from someone with a discerning ear who felt it wasn’t a fit in some way.

Hard to take, but part of the reality of life. We send out resumes, we never get a call. We go for an interview, they don’t call us back. We audition the very best we can, we don’t get the part. We enter our visual art in a juried show and we don’t make it. We send our query letters to magazines and get rejection letters. We submit our book proposals and manuscripts, and wait for the letter that says we’ve been turned down.

No one said it would be easy to be an artist, eh? The key is, I think, to separate your ‘product’ from yourself. If your work needs work, then it needs work. That doesn’t take any value away from the Self. It just means your art is, at present, or in this instance, not what was required. Perhaps another gatekeeper will feel a different way. Perhaps you need to target a different market. Perhaps you have something you need to learn.

The problem comes when we take all those rejections and put them in a pile. We keep building up our resentment, we keep fanning the flames of our anger. We feel hard done by. We get bitter. Our reaction to one rejection is then accompanied by all the baggage. Our negative attitude shuts us down, or shuts us out. We stop being willing to listen or to admit that we might need to move on from where we are. Not that it isn’t hard, when we have years of experience, to feel that our work isn’t being given the recognition we would wish.

Really, we are all on a journey. Not one of us, even if we have gold records or published books or signed deals or pictures that have sold – not one of us has “arrived”. We are simply one step further down the path of artistry and human development. Our art reflects our current stage of evolution. In that respect, it has to be done for art’s sake first.

I don’t write to make money. I write to express. I write to illustrate a story with sound or with words, or both. I write to communicate something within me to others, hoping they might understand my language. Even when I am specifically writing for a particular opportunity that has guidelines and ‘something that sounds like blank’ – I’m always interpreting that as Vikki Flawith. I submit what I have created, and, in a way, it’s saying, to whoever listens to it, ‘here’s where I am right now’.

I’m trusting that if I listen to what I’m being told, if I’m willing to learn, if I acquire new skills, if I am constantly practicing, then every piece of music I create is founded upon the past experiences I have built to support it. Every performance I sing has a foundation in past practice, rehearsal and lessons. Therefore, the track I create today should be superior to the track I created 6 months ago. If it isn’t, I haven’t been moving forward.

If we work, day by day, with deliberation, then success is knowing that we are better today than we were yesterday. If we continue to work in this way, I believe that recognition, and money, will come to us.

Perhaps not the way we have envisioned though. Perhaps we won’t have a hit song recorded by a major artist. But perhaps we will have credits on local artists’ CDs. Perhaps we won’t have a song in a major movie, but we will have underscore in an indie film. There are a myriad of ways the universe can lead us if we are willing to be open.

I never expected, it never occurred to me, I never even dreamed that I would one day be teaching shy singers how to find their voice, and I certainly never dreamed that I would be composing music for film/tv, or gigging regularly at local restaurants. Or writing & producing my own CD. I just followed the path… wanting to be in the music… and here I am, doing my thing. So, yeah, I get tracks turned down. I get songs rejected. I audition and don’t make the cut. But it is all grist for the mill.

“The essence of life is finding something you really love and then making the daily experience worthwhile.” - Denis Waitley

Life isn't 'over there' or 'after this'

"Don't ask yourself what the world needs, ask yourself what makes you come alive. And then go and do that. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive." - Howard Washington Thurman

For some reason this reminds me of an episode of Star Trek the Next Generation. The Enterprise finds an alien and gives them assistance because the alien’s ship is in trouble. They begin a relationship with this new friend. Then a battle ship shows up, demanding the return of the alien. Apparently there’s a huge taboo being broken. The society has made it a rule that no member can search for or attain a new level of being. But the Enterprise gives the alien sanctuary, and watches as the alien evolves from physical being into a beautiful shimmering light. Not dangerous, not blasphemous, but a natural function of growth and emancipation. All the energy that society put into fighting against this change had been wasted.

And so, it seems, it is with us. I wonder what it is within me that resists the light, resists the aliveness that comes from doing the thing that makes me feel that I vibrate with life. What is the weight inside that pulls me down, feeds me negative thoughts, distracts me from my purpose, encourages procrastination. It feels dark. It feels dark and heavy and despondent. It feels nagging and contrary. It feels trapped, airless, devoid of movement.

I think it’s there for me to struggle against. I think it’s there for me to recognize. I think it’s there for me to look at and resist so that I grow into the light.

The strange thing is, when you do the thing that makes you feel alive, that darkness is held at bay. When you are actively engaged in playing an instrument, singing a song, painting a picture, writing your novel, composing music, devising a recipe, reorganizing your house, decorating your living room, planting your garden, penning a poem, learning your lines, filming your short, taking photographs, designing a house…. you are in the light.

My students feel this. It takes time to understand. It takes time to really get it. But when everything is working right, when one is singing freely, easily, on pitch and totally present with the voice… it feels light and easy. It feels like nothing. But it’s everything. It’s you, in the moment, alive and vibrating with your own beautiful sound. It’s stunning.

We need these moments in our lives, daily if we can. Because we are not meant to live in the dark. Because we need to do the things that make us feel life is worthwhile. And the consciousness that is willing to do the work to find this place is the catalyst for change, both within and without.

Life isn't 'over there' or 'after this' or 'when I get that'. It's shimmering in the moment as we do the thing that makes us feel beautifully alive.


[Recommended reading: “The New Earth” by Eckhart Tolle]

Re-programming your Self

I love getting feedback on my blog. I admit it. I like hearing from people of all ages and all walks of life. My readers and I tend to have the same aspiration: to be more creative, or to be more inspired, and accomplish something we dream of. Many of my readers also resonate with the idea of being a ‘shy singer’ or a ‘shy person’. I’ve had a couple of people write to me and say that they know what it’s like to be shy… but, they add, ‘you can get over that.’

Yes. You can. I am an example of how you can. But, I also want to say that many of us are so deeply programmed as ‘shy’ that we feel like social misfits who have no place in the world. I was so introverted that I simply wanted to be invisible. I had no social skills and felt so incredibly stupid when having to make small talk in the coffee room at work or if I met someone I knew on the street. I felt I was inherently flawed and that everything I did was simply not good enough and never would be. I felt that I had nothing to offer the world and was taking up valuable space.

It was only when I began to walk the path towards a dream that I’d had since I was 5 or 6 years old… that things began to change. That change was slow and gradual. It happened over time, as I practiced an art form. That, to me, is the secret of re-writing your own program. The answer to ‘how do I change’, is to take action.

Small actions. Baby steps.Repeatedly. Consistently. I practiced twice a day five days a week for 8 years, and every time I practiced I was growing my awareness of how I thought and how I related to my own voice. This perspective was vital to my self-emancipation. As I began to hear what I said to myself about my singing, I also began to hear how what I said to myself about my Self. And I was shocked. At one point I was journaling daily, and tended to write about 10 pages a day. I filled 3 of those big 300-page notebooks in less than a month. At the end of that month, when I looked through everything I’d written, I was stunned to realize just how negative my thoughts were, all the time. I was either worried or guilty or frustrated or entangled in some sort of procrastination. No wonder I couldn’t free my voice when all my thoughts were so anxious.

That awakening helped me to move forward a little more. Each step along the way, when change occurred, I could look back and see that it had been with me for awhile, tapping me on the shoulder, waiting patiently for me to open to it. By the time I embraced it, it felt like a natural step in the right direction.

There is a little story that I like to tell my students. I read it in a newspaper once, and I think it’s very true to our process.

There is a stone cutter, making a tool. He has his hammer rock, and the stone he is working on. On his one thousandth blow, the stone splits to a perfect edge. And he knows that that one blow didn’t do it. It was all the blows that went before.

we should let go of 'shoulds'

I am very passionate about the things I want to do with the time that I have. Yet at the same time I find myself caught up with the old habits of collecting junk and procrastinating. I think even my preoccupation with trying to organize my house and trying to get myself to complete tasks before they are overdue… is a way of distracting myself from the ‘real’ things that need to get done.

I’ll fiddle all day with something mundane, and then suddenly, at the time when everyone else would be sitting down to read or watch TV… I’m scurrying around, in a fit of doing. I don’t know why I think there has to be a time table anyway. Who cares if you clean your bedroom at 10 am or 10 pm? What’s the diff? See how I get myself tangled in the shoulds? I should clean my bedroom when it’s light out, apparently. When it’s dark out, I’m supposed be done with that stuff. But that’s just nuts. I mean, you don’t want to be vacuuming at 10 pm in case it disturbs the neighbours, but who cares if you are sorting clothes or going through a box of junk at midnight instead of during the day when it ‘should’ be done?

I don’t know where I integrated these arbitrary and perplexing ‘rules’ from, but I think it’s time I threw them out with the rest of the junk. If I want to spend the afternoon writing a piece of music (which is what I did today), what’s wrong with that? I did the dishes while dinner was cooking, and cleaned up the bedroom and organized myself for the week after dinner. Now I’m writing my blog, and then I’ll go to bed. It got done, then. Didn’t it?

Funny little rules. I became aware a little while ago that I still seem to have a set way I think things should be, or how they should be done. Years ago I was very judgmental and controlling, and I thought I’d moved away from all that. But every so often, when I look at my response to something, I start to wonder why it matters if it’s this or if it’s that. Or why it matters at all, really.

As creative people, it is hard to be detached from the performance or product of our work, that’s for sure. I try to listen to different genres of music and see movies or TV shows that I wouldn’t normally watch. I try to open my mind and explore the possibility that another point of view is just as valid as mine (and vice versa). Creativity requires letting go of expectation and product, and going with the flow to see where it takes you. Perhaps it also means sometimes eating breakfast for dinner, doing morning routines at night, having powernaps, and exploring new mediums.

I went to a meeting of my painter's group recently where my sister showed us how to use pastels. I drew trees in green and brown on textured paper and reminded myself how much I enjoy the act of creating visual art – no matter what it looks like in the end. I found myself inspired by the simple act of trying something new.

"To find out who you really are, go somewhere you've never been, with people you've never met and do things you've never done. You'll discover things about yourself you never knew existed." - Brian Austin Whitney, Just Plain Folks

~ when the world says 'no' - again

“Success seems to be largely a matter of hanging on after others have let go.” ~William Feather

It's human nature to complain. Rejection is a given in most creative modalities. Auditions, query letters, peer review, grant applications, book proposals, music submissions - chances are we are going to get rejected on a regular basis. That's a fact. The question is, how are we going to deal with it?

It isn’t easy. I can’t say I don’t get upset when I receive the email or the letter that says, ‘no thanks.’ In fact, I can honestly say that when I first started submitting music to various opportunities, I was absolutely furious every time I got a rejection. I would swear a little, and throw the results into a drawer somewhere, slamming it shut and stomping away.

‘What the hell are those people thinking? Can’t they hear the potential in my work? What’s wrong with their ears? What do they mean my melodies are too meandering and my lyrics are too poetic? Can’t they feel the emotion I’m expressing here? Idiots!!!’

After two or three days, I’d be thinking about what they said, and I’d go back to the drawer and read it again. I’d try to see what they were talking about, I’d try to understand. And I’d often say, ‘oh. I can fix that.’ I’d be inspired to try to change the lyrics or tighten up the melody or shorten the song.

That, in my opinion, is the secret to my success. I’ve been willing to listen. I’ve been willing to at least consider feedback. I’ve tried – after calming down – to open my mind to the possibility that I need to learn more about the craft of songwriting. And really that would apply to any creative thing we do. Singing, painting, writing, composing, acting, etc. Our work will, in many cases, be rejected on a consistent basis. Sometimes because it’s not a fit, not what they were looking for. And sometimes, because, in the opinion of the ‘gatekeeper’, it didn’t reflect the required level of skill.

I’ve been to many an audition where I didn’t get the part, and I’ve had starring roles. I’ve had query letters rejected by magazines, and I’ve been published. I’ve submitted my art to juries and been turned down, and I’ve had my work in shows. I’ve submitted countless songs and instrumentals to opportunities in the music industry and been returned, rejected… and I’ve signed tracks with music publishers and music libraries.

I’ve been knocked over more times than you can count, but I refuse to give up. If I need to learn more about my art form, if I need to focus on craft, if I need to take lessons, if I need to rethink my approach – whatever I have to do to get to the next level, I am willing to listen and learn from each experience, positive or negative.

I know my skill level as a composer is growing because the percentage of rejections has dropped to roughly half. I may not change a track because it was rejected, but I am willing to take that knowledge into the next composition. I may not agree the lyrics are too poetic, but maybe I need to rethink the genre – poetic lyrics might work better for rock or electronica than country.

I still am not happy when my work is turned down, but I am more able to deal with it as part of the reality of being an artist. The key is to separate that rejection from my worth as a creative human being. I am not my job, I am not my work.

As creative artists we have to believe in ourselves, yet be willing to learn; we need to forge new paths, but be willing bring craft along for the ride. And sometimes, it just takes determination and perseverance in the face of continued rejection. Many best-selling books were turned down several times before being published. Many famous actors lost out on parts before they got that signature role. Many singers are told they don’t have what it takes and then go out and prove the ‘experts’ wrong.

To be an artist who is growing and evolving, I think we need equal amounts of humility, innovation, craft, willingness and stick-to-it-ness.

Last word: I remember a talented friend of mine auditioning for a part in a play being put on by the Vancouver Playhouse. He was an Equity member (meaning, a professional), he read for the part, they loved him. But they didn't cast him... because the costume they had was for someone much taller.

That's life.

tearing down walls

In my work with ‘shy singers’ it seems to me that we often come to a place where the barrier between the person and the voice is ‘visible’. We start talking about it. It’s like, this medieval-thick wall, three or four feet deep, that stands between the singer and the singing. I know this wall very well. It took me about six or seven years of voice training to be able to see it. It was the slow growth of my conscious awareness (and a wonderfully intuitive teacher) that gave me the eyes to comprehend the limitations I had integrated. Those limitations were like big bricks in the wall that kept me prisoner for so long.

We can discuss why that wall is there, I’m not sure if that’s a necessary thing, but it’s good to think about it and ponder it. It seems to me it is a conglomeration of experience, precedence, programming, self-identity, and self-preservation. At some point, for some reason, we needed to protect ourselves. At some point, we felt that we were in danger. And so we added a brick to the wall. Each experience assisted us in building the wall stronger.

On our creative journey, the closer we get to breaking through that wall, the stronger that thing fights us for its existence. It’s typically at this point where we start thinking about stopping. We’ve likely been struggling with keeping a commitment to practicing our artform… now, with the wall in our face, we feel like giving up entirely.

The voice in our head is very active. “Who am I kidding anyway? Why does it have to be so hard? I understand intellectually what is required, but it feels like the body is not cooperating. Everything I do is terrible. Perhaps I’m just not cut out to be a singer (actor, writer, painter, composer, etc).”

What I’ve learned, from my own process, and from sharing in the journey of my students, is that this is a major turning point. This is the time when the choice is made to go forward, and change… or stay as we are. It’s a tough moment. Often we feel grief or tremendous reluctance. It’s always hard for me as a teacher when I see someone face this wall… and decide to turn away. But I know I have to accept that they aren’t ready. Whatever they are feeling and thinking becomes a ‘stop’ sign. And I have to yield to their choice.

Yet, I have experienced, time and time again, what happens when we make the choice to keep going. It’s scary because we are going to walk a new path. We are going to go someplace we have never been. But it’s also a slow, easy path, made for walking, made for enjoying the scenery. If we trust the process, if we have faith that our creativity and passion for music (or whatever art form we are pursuing) means something, we will make progress. And, in time, when we look back, we realize that… the voice we found was really just around the corner from that ‘stop’ sign. We realize… if we had given up, we never would have discovered it. Our willingness to explore the possibilities was a catalyst for changing our programming.

I picture this emancipation like this… I am walking in a forest of dead trees. There is no light where I am, but I can see it ahead of me. It’s only a few feet away. All I have to do is keep walking. But the ego, the thing inside of me that feeds on negativity, the thing inside of me that has a vested interest in me staying where I am, it manifests as little monsters that hang on my legs as I try to move forward. They shout all the typical blurts I tell myself (‘who are you kidding, you are too old, nobody cares, what’s the difference, it’s too hard, you aren’t good enough’). I struggle to keep going. Finally I reach the light and it shines brightly on me. The little monsters fall away with mouths wide open in surprise. I walk into the light and I am in a fragrant meadow. It is warm and welcoming. I wonder why I resisted coming here.

Do what you do do want?

Most of my life I didn’t really make decisions. Well, I suppose I did decide that I couldn’t decide. I didn’t think I had the knowledge to make the choice, or I didn’t trust my own thoughts or feelings. I didn’t want to upset anyone. I didn’t want to be different or strange. So I tried to figure out what everyone else was doing and then I’d do it. Or say it. If I offered an opinion and someone disagreed I’d quickly backtrack or find some way to end up agreeing with them.

I thought everyone else knew better. And perhaps they did – for themselves. Asking someone else what I should do, when they didn’t know me like I know me, when their tastes or interests were different than mine… when I think of it, that is pretty silly.

I can’t remember when I started to ignore my own thoughts or feelings in preference to others. Probably early on, in school. Desperate to fit in, but never fitting in, I spent my days in a sea of anxiety, afraid someone would talk to me and equally afraid no one would talk to me. When they did talk to me I shrank inside, sure I would say the wrong thing, make a bad joke, say something stupid, be totally boring. All I could hear during any social encounter was the voice in my own head yelling, ‘you are boring you are boring you will say something stupid you are boring.’ And naturally, because I only agreed with them, hardly said a word, and was practically inaudible when I did speak… I was boring, I suppose. I wanted to be included, but at the same time I wanted to be invisible because I knew I wasn’t good enough to belong.

Inside I seethed with creativity. I loved to read books, I painted, I drew, I wrote songs and poems, I played the trumpet and the piccolo, I taught myself to play the guitar, I choreographed dances with my little sister that we did around the pool table in the basement, I sang with my school choir, I discussed the value of education with the vice-principal… see how boring I was?

I feel like it’s taken a life time to find my way back to that creative youthful spirit. The first step on that journey was the first time I really asked myself “what do I, Vikki, want?” And the next step on that journey was the first time I really listened for the answer, from within me.

I was speaking to Debra Russell of Artist’s Edge yesterday [ www.Artists-Edge.com ], and she asked a very interesting question. We were talking about the voice in your head and how it repeats, like a feedback loop, all the negative thoughts and judgments we have about ourselves. Yet, at the same time, we ask ourselves to listen to our inner voice when we are making choices.

So Debra asked me, how do we know the difference between the ‘good’ voice and the ‘bad’ voice? I think that’s a wonderful thing to muse about. Sometimes it takes me awhile to figure it out. Sometimes I have to write in my journal, or go for long walks, or make pro and con lists. Usually I need to find a place of serenity, a quiet place, where I can ask myself what I think. Sometimes I ask the question before I go to sleep and wake up with an answer.

It seems to me that the voice in my head tends to be negative… have a dark energy, it comes from programming or old patterns. It really feels as though it is ‘in my head’. But the other voice, my inner voice, seems ‘lighter’ and ‘brighter’, and it seems to come from my heart.

Making choices is tough. And while I think it’s great to have a vision, and set goals, and work towards them… at the same time I’m aware that we need to… go with the flow. Not every decision needs to be made ‘for life.’ I think that it’s okay if we take the time to explore options, to try new things, to check things out, to experiment with the options.

It’s like when I’m painting. I have a vision in my head of what I want to do… but if I try to force the painting to be what I want it to be… I get blocked, it doesn’t work, I get frustrated. But if I allow the vision in my head to morph, if I ‘follow the brush’… I end up somewhere I didn’t expect. My best work is done when I am just allowing.

Yet I still made the decision it was time to paint. I still did the work of getting out the paints, the brushes, and the canvas. I still sensibly set my easel up in the light. But then, I surrendered to the muse.