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Rejection is a gift, anger is fruitless (thread)
This was my first 8x10, shot on film in Seattle circa 2001. Thrift store clothes. That sweater was the most beautiful rusty orange. Soft, comfortable and warm. I wore it until the last thread disappeared into the wind and I still miss it.
I printed up a couple hundred of these “promo glossies” with my name and contact info. To try to get gigs, I would stuff them into a manila envelope, along with a CD copy of my only album (Back Porch Spirituals) and a one sheet listing my accomplishments.
I can’t imagine what was on there, I had barely done anything or played my songs for anyone. I’ll bet you it referred to me as “award-winning”. I can tell you that award came from my high school music department at graduation. I think everybody got them.
Each one of these packages probably cost me about $20-25 to put together and mail, depending on where in the world I sent it. I was trying to book myself a tour across North America, by bicycle.
I don’t know if many of you have tried cold calls to get a job, but I can tell you that in my experience the rate of success is not amazing.
For most of the packages I sent out, I would hear no answer. Sometimes I’d get a polite “no”. If there was no requirement on their part to pay me (ie. I would be playing for tips), then I would get the occasional “yes”.
I would always follow up with a phone call. Long distance charges would apply. If that didn’t work, I would send a maximum of two emails before giving up.
One of the presenters I was following up with by email did finally get back to me. I was really hoping that I would get this one, a folk club somewhere in the Midwest.
These kind of gigs are gold for new artists because they’ve usually sold a season’s worth of tickets and you are almost guaranteed a chance at entertaining an engaged, respectful audience.
Not only did she have no interest in booking me, but she took the opportunity to tell me exactly why. She had reviewed my package, despite the fact that she didn’t even have an opening to offer me.
But even if she DID have an opening, she still wouldn’t book me “…now or probably ever!”
She said my music sounded amateurish (it was). I could use better lyrics (I could). There were no skillful instrumental transitions in the songs (that’s just like, your opinion, man). My voice goes out of tune (sometimes, but have you ever heard of Neil Young?).
I was angry and frustrated. I wanted to send a rebuttal. I wanted her to feel hurt the way I felt hurt reading her words. Why did she do that? It seemed so unnecessary and mean.
After I calmed down, I realized that my biggest problem was that I wasn’t really getting anywhere booking gigs.
I looked at my promo package. I looked at her email. Instead of just presenting myself as a brand new artist with a desire to succeed and songs to share, I was trying to come across as more professional and more experienced than I actually was. It was obvious.
I wrote back and thanked her for her response. I told her I was just starting out and had never booked a tour before. Since she seemed to be willing to share feedback, did she have any advice for me?
Was there something I could do to improve my materials? Is there a more effective way I could be reaching out and following up with people? Are there other types of places I should be looking, if I’m not ready for venues like hers?
She wrote me back within a day and apologized for her mean-spirited opinions on me and my music. She empathized with me and acknowledged that it’s hard to know what to do when you’re just starting out.
She gave me some constructive criticism, courteously answered all my questions and offered advice. She wished me luck.
Two years later I would have an album out on a major label and start touring the world with resources behind me that I could have only dreamed of when I sent that email. Who knows, but I’m not sure I would have gotten there if I had chosen to indulge anger over curiosity.
