On Rejection and Artistry

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When I was in Grade 4, I tried out for an arts school.

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My little 9-year-old self was convinced that this program was where I was meant to be.

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I marched into the audition holding a little briefcase of my art. I had so much confidence! I was backed by fate! The gods were shining on me! Surely, this was a done deal.

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Boy, was I wrong.

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The second I opened the door to the gymnasium I knew I was out of my depth. Children around me played violin concertos, danced in pointe shoes, and held giant canvases painted with impressive realism.

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My shaky hand clutched my briefcase of shitty watercolours.

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I fumbled the dance component. Sang a scale off-pitch. Saw the confusion in the faces of the teachers when I showed my paintings.

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I didn’t need to receive the admissions rejection in the mail to know I hadn’t gotten in.

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I still think about this memory. A lot, if I’m honest.

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It was the moment where I decided that I wasn’t good enough.

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It was the moment I decided that art belonged to other people. That it probably wasn’t in the cards for me.

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It was the moment that I chose my brain over my heart. That I started to doubt and overthink and hesitate.

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How many of us share a similar story? How many incredible writers and painters and actors are working right now as accountants and business analysts and dermatologists instead?

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Imagine the beauty, wisdom, music that the world is missing, simply because we gave up too early.

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If you’ve never read “The War of Art” or “Do the Work” by @steven_pressfield , stop what you’re doing right now and go buy those books.

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Read them, and then if you dare, courageously begin again.