Get Used to Disappointment (Okay)
“Hallo, my name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.”
If you don’t recognize that quote, and didn’t hear Mandy Patinkin’s voice in your head delivering it with an over-the-top Spanish accent, you are clearly not a member of The Princess Bride fan club (yes, they really have one). While I’ve never joined, I have watched the movie approximately 2.4 bizillion times - enough to enable me to quote large portions of dialog from memory.
Among my go-to lines:
“You’ve been almost dead all day.”
“No more rhymes, I mean it!” “Anybody want a peanut?”
“Life is pain, Highness. Anybody who says differently is selling something.”
“Inconceivable!” “You keep using that word. I do not think it means, what you think it means.”
“Have fun stormin’ da castle!”
“As you wish.”
My very favorite lines, however, take place as Inigo Montoya and the mysterious Masked Man engage in a fierce sword fight on top of the Cliffs of Insanity. Inigo is impressed with his opponent’s skill and curious about his identity. Their conversation goes like this:
Inigo: “Who are you??”
Masked Man: “No one of consequence.”
Inigo: “I must know.”
Masked Man: “Get used to disappointment.”
Inigo: “Okay.”
That scene has always impressed me because the Masked Man is dropping some bona fide wisdom. Disappointment is part of life. Getting used to it - i.e. realizing it’s a given and you will experience it, sooner or later, whether you want to or not - is great advice. I also love Inigo’s reaction. He doesn’t object, argue, or get upset. He just accepts it and keeps fighting.
If I was mentoring a young writer or artist, I would refer them to this scene. It’s not only useful for life in general, but specifically the life of a creative. Disappointment is a real thing. Accept it and keep fighting.
This is a vital lesson because when you start sending out your work for publication, acceptance in galleries, or otherwise putting it up for sale, you will be rejected. While rejection isn’t exactly the same as disappointment, they are partners in crime. I would go so far as to call them two sides of the same coin: When you get rejected, you will feel disappointment. Trust me. I know.
Disappointment is a real thing. Accept it and keep fighting.
How do I know? Well, en route to getting 20-something books published, I received thousands of rejections. That’s not an exaggeration. It could be in the tens of thousands. The hard copy form-rejection letters, if properly filed and boxed, would fill a single-car garage. The digital versions would overload my cloud storage account. Not even kidding.
Take the novel that I just signed, for instance. It’s scheduled to be published next year. I originally wrote it about 20 years ago. That’s two decades. During that time, I regularly and passionately submitted it, pushed it, pedaled it, promoted it, and otherwise begged and pleaded with nearly every agent and publisher on the planet to take it on. While this particular project has earned lots of kudos and positive reactions along the way (“We enjoyed the story, but...” “We love the writing style, but...” “You are clearly a gifted writer, but...”), there was always a “but.”
There were even a few close calls: the agent who took it on, asked for changes but never committed, the publisher who read it and enthusiastically boasted “We’ll publish this, I guarantee it!” before eventually ghosting me. That sort of thing.
“It makes exactly the same impression whether you say, ‘No’ with or without compliments; it is perhaps even more irritating when it is said in such a complimentary way.” -Vincent van Gogh
So when Odyssey Books recently responded that they loved it AND wanted to sign it, I was shocked, dumbfounded, and, to be honest, continued to harbor a seed of doubt. The book is called The House ‘Cross the Way and I never gave up on it because: 1. I think it’s good. Rereading it recently to prep the manuscript, I was very pleasantly surprised. It is definitely some of my best writing and, in a few passages, I was genuinely amazed at the prose (I wrote that??). 2. It has a lot of me in it. I call it a semi-autobiographical novel because it weaves in pieces of people, places, and events I have experienced. In other words, it’s not business, it’s personal.
I’m telling you all of this because, as a writer who could possibly hold the world record for rejection letters, and who survived the subsequent bouts of crushing disappointment that resulted, I should be used to it, even immune. The situation I currently find myself in - suddenly jobless, seeking employment - should be a piece of cake. Right?
Yeah. Uh-huh... Sure.
Here’s the thing: despite my extensive experience with disappointment and an appreciation for the Masked Man’s wise words, I still haven’t gotten used to it. Rejection stings. Disappointment hurts. They’re like a one-two punch in the face. And, if you let them, they will sap your confidence and convince you to stay down, if only to avoid future pain.
Being laid off was like that. For me, the ax arrived via teleconference. Instead of the boss sauntering up to my cube and ominously requesting, “Can I see you in my office...?”, my moment of truth began with an instant message from a higher-up asking if I had a minute to chat before a special, all-company tele-meeting that had just popped up on my Outlook calendar.
Gulp! (Insert Jaws music here.)
I took a deep breath and responded, pretending to be nonchalant and naïve, as though unaware of my impending doom: “Sure,” I typed with trembling fingers.
The Zoom call was short and sweet, the hatchet quite sharp. I don’t recall the exact words, only the gist: COVID, unexpected, slowdowns, loss of projects, cutbacks, positions eliminated... blah, blah, blah... Translation: Re-jected!
I sort of lost focus - and maybe consciousness - as the face on the screen continued to offer a sad, empathetic smile, mumbling about how everything would be fine, how I wasn’t alone, how we would get through this together. If “together” means some people still working and collecting a paycheck and me not working and not collecting a paycheck, she was spot on.
This is where the tsunami of disappointment flooded in.
The world went dark for a while. It was the first time in my life that I had lost a job. Until that morning, I had always been the one doing the talking: “I want to let you know that I have accepted another position and will be leaving in two weeks.” Bazinga!
If you’ve never been on the receiving end of the workplace bazinga, let me assure you, it’s not fun.
So after the shock and awe, after growling into the mirror and sending the dogs scurrying for cover, after the woe-is-me pity party and a childish, foot-stomping tantrum (“Not fair! Not fair!”) - a grieving process that lasted at least seven minutes, maybe eight - I sat back down at my laptop and began frantically and compulsively searching for open positions. What I didn’t realize then was that this exercise would be defined by, steeped in, and overflowing with rejection. It is like an open invitation to a short course in disappointment.
More on job applications, interviews, and near-misses in the next blog. In the meantime, I leave you with this optimistic bit of dialog from The Princess Bride that, I feel, applies not only to my situation, but the situation our nation and world currently face:
Princess Buttercup: “We’ll never survive.”
Westley: “Nonsense. You’re only saying that because no one ever has.”