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Olympic Inspirations, Nathan Gafuik’s Return to the High Bar

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I love watching gymnastics and the athletes at the Olympics are such a treat. Luckily I turned on the coverage of the men’s qualifications just in time to cheer for Canada’s Nathan Gafuik on the high bar. During his routine I held my breath as he fell from the bar in a particularly stunning component. As Gafuik composed himself, the commentators report that this fall has knocked him out of the qualifications, ending his 2012 Olympic run. I expected Gafuik to return to the bench, but to my surprise he instead remounted and finished his routine.

I am sure this is standard practice, but I felt encouraged to see this display of sportsmanship. It is easy in life to get knocked down, lose our footing, take a hard fall – the challenging part is getting back up. If I were in Nathan Gafuik’s place, being the emotional person that I am, I probably would have started crying and the last thing I would want to do is go back onto the high bar to finish.

People will remember the fall, but also the class and professionalism that Gafuik brings to his sport. I believe that returning to the high bar after a devastating fall is a psychological accomplishment for the athlete. They immediately ‘get back on the horse’ so to speak; they are forced to confront fear and embarrassment to complete their routine. In the end I am sure this makes all the difference for their career whether they realize it or not.

I often feel like a fallen artist. Applications come back with stale rejections; the work I pour my heart into seems doomed for my admiration only. When I compare my chosen career to my husband’s more conventional job, I feel frustrated at the difficulty for a young artist to break into the art scene and the continual need to prove yourself over and over again. Most professions do not require such exhausting self promotion.

Despite this maddening aspect of my chosen profession, I feel encouraged by the sportsmanship of the Olympic athletes. They fall, but pull themselves up at once and finish. It is not how many times you fall or how hard but how you finish that counts.

My wise mother often reminds me, “It’s easy to assume that great artists simply fall into a lucky break, but they would probably tell you otherwise. We don’t get to see all the years of labor, tears and mounds of rejection letters that brought them to the level that they have achieved.”

Never give up. Let’s psychologically strengthen ourselves as creative individuals, immediately pull ourselves back up onto the high bar, back into our passions and return to our routine as if our art depends on it. And it does.

What Carolyn See and the Labyrinth can teach us about responding to Rejection Letters

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One of the most challenging aspects of being an artist and writer is getting your work out there. Submitting to galleries or publications, followed by the torturous wait, is certainly more stressful than actually creating the work in the first place. Add to the struggle the subjectivity of creative art fields and the fact that you could catch the curator or editor on a bad day thereby cementing the likelihood of them mailing back to you the generic rejection letter that makes us all cringe. Or better yet, the rejection email. I am blown away by a response to a submission via email – Where is professionalism these days? Are not the laborious hours that go into a submission worth one piece of paper and a stamp?

No matter how many times you chant to yourself, “Thick skin, thick skin, thick skin,” each rejection cuts deeply and wounds our artist heart. Somehow it feels like a rejection of not only the art but the artist as well. It is easy to get discouraged, mope around the house, polish off a pail of ice cream and mourn the opportunity like a relationship.

“You are really great, but there are lots of fish in the sea and I just don’t think you are right for me. Can we still be friends?”

AKA

“We have received an unprecedented number of quality submissions and unfortunately you have not been selected. This does not reflect your work. Please visit the gallery again soon.”

I do have a plan for dealing with these unpleasant rejection letters. What is my secret weapon? It’s as profound as it is simple and holds the power to completely change the vibe upon rejection.

Simple answer:

Carolyn See’s charming notes combined with the movie the Labyrinth.

Long answer:

In the book, “Making a Literary Life, Advice for Writers and Other Dreamers” by Carolyn See, there are many useful tips, but one of the best is See’s admonition to write charming notes. She has a whole chapter on what she recommends be a daily practice of writing a charming note to an individual that inspires you or to professionals in your field, but later in her book she talks specifically about rejection.

See suggest that we immediately, within the very hour of reading the rejection letter, write and mail a charming note back to the person who sent it to us. It is a simple note, something like, “Thank you for your rejection letter. I appreciate the time you took to review my submission. I wish my work had worked for you right now but I will send along more shortly.”

The important part of this process is the shifting of power. When the rejecter sends you their form letter, the power rests in their hands. It’s almost like them having the last word. No one should have the final word on your art but you – that is my firm belief. What See suggests is that writing a charming note back immediately shifts the power, a highly spiritual act that puts you back in a good state mentally and emotionally.

I have done this for my last handful of rejection letters. Upon first reading the words “Unfortunately your work has not been chosen,” the whole physiology of my being seemed to deflate, but once I sat down and wrote out a response, even if words were hard to find, I instantly felt like I could breathe again. It was as if I could let it go once I took the power back into my own hands.

“I have the final say on my artwork, I believe in myself, I create the life I wish for myself.” This is my personal mantra.

Remember the movie Labyrinth from 1986 starring Jennifer Connelly as Sarah? It’s an oldie but a goodie.  The basic plot is that Sarah must run through a nonsensical labyrinth to save her baby brother Toby from Jareth, the Goblin King, played by David Bowie. Close to the end of the movie the glass shatters on the Goblin King’s pretty illusions when Sarah comes to the great revelation, “You have no power over me.”

I have watched the Labyrinth a hundred times and will never forget Sarah’s realization and in a silly yet intentional way I say it to myself once I read a rejection letter, I say it to myself upon filing it away, I say it to myself as I write a charming note back to the sender and I say it to myself every day as I choose the life I wish to lead. “You have no power over me” and they don’t.

What Carolyn See and the Labyrinth can teach us about responding to Rejection Letters

/0 Comments/in /by

One of the most challenging aspects of being an artist and writer is getting your work out there. Submitting to galleries or publications, followed by the torturous wait, is certainly more stressful than actually creating the work in the first place. Add to the struggle the subjectivity of creative art fields and the fact that you could catch the curator or editor on a bad day thereby cementing the likelihood of them mailing back to you the generic rejection letter that makes us all cringe. Or better yet, the rejection email. I am blown away by a response to a submission via email – Where is professionalism these days? Are not the laborious hours that go into a submission worth one piece of paper and a stamp?

No matter how many times you chant to yourself, “Thick skin, thick skin, thick skin,” each rejection cuts deeply and wounds our artist heart. Somehow it feels like a rejection of not only the art but the artist as well. It is easy to get discouraged, mope around the house, polish off a pail of ice cream and mourn the opportunity like a relationship.

“You are really great, but there are lots of fish in the sea and I just don’t think you are right for me. Can we still be friends?”

AKA

“We have received an unprecedented number of quality submissions and unfortunately you have not been selected. This does not reflect your work. Please visit the gallery again soon.”

I do have a plan for dealing with these unpleasant rejection letters. What is my secret weapon? It’s as profound as it is simple and holds the power to completely change the vibe upon rejection.

Simple answer:

Carolyn See’s charming notes combined with the movie the Labyrinth.

Long answer:

In the book, “Making a Literary Life, Advice for Writers and Other Dreamers” by Carolyn See, there are many useful tips, but one of the best is See’s admonition to write charming notes. She has a whole chapter on what she recommends be a daily practice of writing a charming note to an individual that inspires you or to professionals in your field, but later in her book she talks specifically about rejection.

See suggest that we immediately, within the very hour of reading the rejection letter, write and mail a charming note back to the person who sent it to us. It is a simple note, something like, “Thank you for your rejection letter. I appreciate the time you took to review my submission. I wish my work had worked for you right now but I will send along more shortly.”

The important part of this process is the shifting of power. When the rejecter sends you their form letter, the power rests in their hands. It’s almost like them having the last word. No one should have the final word on your art but you – that is my firm belief. What See suggests is that writing a charming note back immediately shifts the power, a highly spiritual act that puts you back in a good state mentally and emotionally.

I have done this for my last handful of rejection letters. Upon first reading the words “Unfortunately your work has not been chosen,” the whole physiology of my being seemed to deflate, but once I sat down and wrote out a response, even if words were hard to find, I instantly felt like I could breathe again. It was as if I could let it go once I took the power back into my own hands.

“I have the final say on my artwork, I believe in myself, I create the life I wish for myself.” This is my personal mantra.

Remember the movie Labyrinth from 1986 starring Jennifer Connelly as Sarah? It’s an oldie but a goodie.  The basic plot is that Sarah must run through a nonsensical labyrinth to save her baby brother Toby from Jareth, the Goblin King, played by David Bowie. Close to the end of the movie the glass shatters on the Goblin King’s pretty illusions when Sarah comes to the great revelation, “You have no power over me.”

I have watched the Labyrinth a hundred times and will never forget Sarah’s realization and in a silly yet intentional way I say it to myself once I read a rejection letter, I say it to myself upon filing it away, I say it to myself as I write a charming note back to the sender and I say it to myself every day as I choose the life I wish to lead. “You have no power over me” and they don’t.