Author Update #19
I have completed all of my intended applications for graduate school. All in all, I applied to eight schools: University of Maryland, Rutgers, Cornell, Syracuse, UC Riverside, University of Michigan, University of Oregon, and Oregon State. I made the difficult decision not to apply to UCI again this year, despite how much I love it. I did so because I love it. I don’t want my memory of UCI to be tainted by rejections. The English department are people I know and have come to respect and appreciate, and I value my time spent there. However, when playing a game that has been won in the past, but now has only about a 3% chance of winning, it may be better not to play again, and instead rest on the accomplishments that have been awarded.
This year has, overall, been a year of profound disappointment. Due to a job loss in early November 2022 that lasted until late March 2023, I had to be judicious last year as to which places I might apply in the last cycle. I selected only 4 total schools, including UCI. It was my misfortune that I was in a graduate-level class at UCI while awaiting my grad school responses. I’d gotten rejections from 3 of the 4 schools, with UCI being the final. I prayed that the program would see my potential; I held onto such hope. That was until I met those who had been offered admission to the program when they visited my class one afternoon. I learned I had not been accepted by greeting those who had been. What a crushing experience! I spiraled for a while after that and almost gave up on the class (and school) altogether.
As of April of this year, I had four rejections from four schools. I kept trying to succeed, though. I applied and was rejected for three prizes I’d applied for through school. After two years of hard work, I came in 0.001 points shy of graduating Magna Cum Laude. I am happy to have Cum Laude, but what an absolute punch in the gut, huh? I did receive an award for my thesis, so that was pretty encouraging. However, after leaving school, I moved inland and it was a MAJOR misstep. My daughter received an indirect death threat within weeks of living here and has been bullied many times at school in the past few months. My son, who is neurodiverse like me, has had A LOT of trouble adjusting to the less supportive environment as well. So, my streak of shitty luck has led to some serious emotional complications for my kids, which is the worst feeling.
There have been many rejections from jobs I wanted, and I got duped by a job that promised the ability to teach but was just a glorified babysitting program. I didn’t learn until I’d accepted the position that the locations were 30 minutes away, and my work shifts as a babysitter would be between the times my kids got out of school and went to bed. I wasn’t willing to sacrifice all of my time with my kids to take care of other people’s kids, so I had to refuse the position. Meanwhile, I submitted to eight literary journals, only to return all rejections. It may seem thatI’m stating these facts to garner sympathy or to complain. While it has been an extremely emotionally taxing year, I am saying these facts to put into sharp relief my intense dedication to my goals. Despite these disappointments, I am still here, writing. Maybe four graduate school rejections last year will be eight this year, despite putting in three times the effort I had available to me last year. Maybe I don’t want to pay to go to Antioch or another low residency program: a thought that has been kicking around in my head since I was accepted and is now more than ever. I don’t have all the answers. There may be even harsher disappointments coming in the new year, and only time will tell. Still, I applied even when shouldering so much disappointment. I kept trying.
While all of these experiences have been emotionally difficult, it isn’t the worst I’ve lived through. There are so many occasions in my memory where this would be infinitely preferable. I don’t typically like comparing sorrows, between others and myself or between my own experiences, but I can say that it gives me some comfort to know that I can move beyond even the most trying of times. Rejections are part of the test. If I ever crawl back into my hole of hiding away my love of writing, I will have given up. Doing so would be a major insult to those who have shown belief in me thus far. I hope that their faith isn’t misplaced, but it only will be if I give up. This year has dealt me some major hits, and the year before was extremely hard as well, but I didn’t give up yet. I’ve kept on trying. There will be a book, one day, that bears my name. That is the promise to myself and those who see what value I bring. I hope that one of the programs to which I’ve applied this year sees that as well. If not, I can’t change their minds; I can only change my own. Not allowing that to dictate my worth, as it so often has in the past, must be overcome. That is all I can do — not give up.
