Rejection Sucks

You don't.

I quite often retreat into a depression cave of baggy clothes, the smell of smoke, and disturbing cinema. In November 2020, UCD extended a PhD offer to me: a place on their Doctoral Programme in Creative Writing - yay - except that I didn’t, and don’t, have the financial machinery to pay for the tuition. Bummer, but I did get over it. My good friend, Jeremy, has maintained that one doesn’t necessarily need institutional validation to keep writing, keep creating, keep being…

I’m still comforted in this knowledge because it is entirely true. Most recently, I applied for a funding call too, and after two months of rigorous lapidary, I was very close to smashing some glass bottles - “we regret to inform you…”

I’ll keep this missive short, because I don’t have any revolutionary praxis of dulling the sting of rejection. What I’m trying to say is, that I’m happy to be able to write this to all of you in this moment, and that I know no matter how jaded I might be right now, it won’t stop me from writing. The lack of institutional funding will not alter my sense of self, although my current self is very angry. So for now, I’m going to moisturise my hands with some gorgeous smelling cream and slap on an ice cold sheet mask.

Signing off with a lovely, upbeat tune for all of us (you might have heard this on Instagram somewhere):