[on my mind…]
For those old enough to remember, alternative music was a distinct genre in the 90s. If any song aptly represents that era, it’s “Ironic” by Alanis Morissette. Back then, MTV actually played music videos, and “Ironic” was on constant rotation. It was the fourth single off the album, Jagged Little Pill, which also included hits like “Hand In My Pocket” and “You Oughta Know.” The album sold millions of copies and was nominated for five Grammy Awards, prompting even a prepubescent Black girl to embrace the sound of light grunge.
But, the album almost didn’t see the light of day.
Alanis had released two albums before Jagged Little Pill— both of which flew under the radar of mainstream success. She then recorded a third studio album that was shelved by her record label before JLP. Discouraged and depressed, Alanis considered walking away from music for good.
Had she done so — 90s MTV, K-town Karaoke bars, and angsty teens would have all been robbed.
And yet, I empathize with the desire to just, well, quit.
A week ago, I received an “update on status” email from a TV pilot accelerator program. By this point in the application process, I was a proper semi-finalist. 500+ applicants had been whittled down to 50, then 25, and then BAM— brakes slammed, my whole body of hope thrown mercilessly toward the dashboard of rejection.
Friends offered kind words. Making it this far was a sign I was doing something right.
Most days, I would be inclined to agree. I myself find it annoying how often I err on the side of hope. I look up to the cynics. They’re sexy, mysterious, and smart enough to be incredulous about the world, given that the state of the world is rather incredulous. But no, most days, I am on the other side of the emotional pendulum. I waltz into troubling situations with a smile and a silver lining, raison d'être. Maybe it’s that big fat Gemini sun in my chart, but I effortlessly hold space in my mind for two sides of a situation. If the world screams, “THIS SUCKS,” I shout back, “Yes, AND MAYBE THERE’S A REASON.” Even if a reason hasn’t made itself clear, I project outside of time-space reality, rationalizing that from God’s perspective, there has to be one.
But upon getting that email, hope was nowhere to be found. I didn’t want to hear my good twin’s inner monologue about how this was a character-building moment. I wanted to sulk, swear off writing, chow down on Häagen-Dazs caramel cone ice cream. The industry is crumbling, the world is on fire—WHAT’S THE POINT?
With one rejection, I became a sexy cynic.
But really, it wasn’t just one rejection. It was the latest in a growing stack of programs, publishers, and other external indicators of “success” that slipped from my grasp. And while my friends were right— I was showing improvements, there was something about making it to the top 5% that felt like a tease. It’s like dating a guy who tells you you’re his dream girl but he isn’t ready for a relationship (bullshit). Or growing your hair the longest it’s ever been, only to completely lose your sideburns after an intense alopecia flare-up (true story). Or hearing about the perfect pair of wide-leg jeans that would still accentuate your booty — only to find they no longer have your size (still searching for this dream denim situation). To take from the wise words of Brandy, “almost doesn’t count.”
This past week, I thought a lot about the creatives* who slipped past notoriety—artists whose names I don’t know because they grew tired of the constant rejection, criticism, uncertainty, and self-doubt they encountered. They stopped performing, painting, selling, or whatever their creative outlet was. These are artists who gave up.
And then I thought about Alanis, who moved past the temptation to quit and went on to record Jagged Little Pill. And Jelly Roll, who won the Best New Artist award at the CMTs weeks before his 39th birthday. And Toni Morrison who published her first book at 39. And Victoria Monét, who, despite an impressive catalog of song credits, remained relatively unknown until her breakout song “On My Mama” was released when she was 34. These are artists who kept going.
Thinking about their stories of perseverance didn’t immediately make me run back to the page. I still question whether my specific wiring of tenacity and grit is enough to overcome the gut punches that come with living a creative life. However, thinking about them did help bring me back to my dual nature: holding space for my desire to be rewarded handsomely for my efforts and feeling frustrated that I haven’t “popped off” yet.
And while that isn’t conventional hope — it’s honesty. And sometimes that’s all you can give.
Now, excuse me as I go blast me some “Ironic.”
And yeah, life has a funny way of sneaking up on you
And life has a funny, funny way of helping you out
Helping you out
All the love.
*If you are a living being, you are a creative
[on failure…]
“Honor the space between no longer and not yet.” —Lalah Delia
“Success is not final, failure is not fatal: It is the courage to continue that counts.” —Winston Churchill
“The road to success is dotted with many tempting parking spaces.”— Will Rogers
“I have not failed. I’ve just found 10,000 ways that won’t work.” — Thomas Edison
“When everything seems to be going against you, remember that the airplane takes off against the wind, not with it.” — Henry Ford
Yes - you have what it takes to keep going✨