It’s Not You. Really.

By Allison K Williams






There was nothing wrong with Goldilocks (other than a little breaking-and-entering, of course). Or the beds. The problem was the fit.



This is also true of every residency, grant and fellowship we apply for. It’s not enough to be good (augh!) but, sometimes we don’t even have to be “good enough.” While publication and prizes require a minimum level of quality of writing plus a good fit, awards aimed at creative development and project support have much broader latitude in who they pick. Many residencies care as much—or more!—about emerging writers than already successful ones. Grants to fund writing projects and the time to complete them often focus more on the writer’s concept, background, or the audience they hope to reach, rather than sheer quality of work. Fellowships can ride on one’s ability to teach, and excellent references can push one writer past others with stronger publication records.



We know this in our heads, but still, every rejection feels like a little hammer on the you’re-not-good-enough nail in our hearts.



I teach a course called Project Memoir, billed as “an MFA in 8 weeks.” After opening applications this year, I spoke with a writer who wasn’t in last year’s course, a writer whose work I admire and enjoy working with. She wondered if the quality of her work had kept her out. But I’d picked pairs of writers whose work complemented each other: two sides of the same topic, or who could influence each other with dramatically different voices. I’d made sure nobody was the only person of color, or the only religious person, or the only person without a finished draft. Out of 28 applications, nobody was a “bad writer”—some I even told, you don’t need to spend money on me, start your submission process instead.



Brevity Editor-in-Chief Dinty W. Moore and I often co-teach, and most writing events we offer are first-come-first-serve. Sign up for the January intensive before we hit 20 people and you’re in. Want to join me in Santa Fe? You’re in. We even have three spots left on the Queen Mary 2 next April. Yet we’ve heard from writers that even the name of a retreat, “Rebirth Your Book,” felt intimidating. That they almost hadn’t signed up, because they worried they weren’t qualified, that the other writers would all be stronger.



Don’t say no to yourself.



Someone else might say no later, but you might as well go for that opportunity you want—and other people are saying no to themselves, which means less competition.  



Before I was a writer and before I was a circus performer, I was an actor. My first television gig was a commercial for a local runaway shelter. Fun fact: I’d been in the shelter, which I thought lent veracity to my performance. The casting agent who visited my high school drama class did not agree, and cast four of my friends. One of them—I’ll call her Shannon— skipped school a lot, I noticed. So on shooting day, when the camera crew arrived in our auditorium and Shannon wasn’t there, guess who was, with a parent-signed release in her hand and the script already memorized?



I said yes to myself even after they already said no.



You may not be as pushy as me—most people aren’t—but it’s worth upping your confidence level even if you’re faking it. Considering a residency application? Want to find funds for a project? Half the battle is asking. Stop second-guessing yourself and the judges. Look for what will suit your budget and your time, and press send. Remember application fees are tax deductible against any money you make from writing. Remember if your budget is tight, it’s worth emailing “do you ever waive application fees for low-income/marginalized/subscribers to your magazine?” because about half the time, the answer is yes.



You can even pick yourself. Yeah, AirBnB and takeout aren’t quite as glam as a dedicated retreat, and support helps a lot. But you could also grab a writer friend or two and share that rented apartment, or even plan a low-cost-no-travel retreat by meeting in each other’s homes or the local library.



Which brings up the most important point of all: before you even apply, ask yourself what you need. Meals you don’t have to think about? Quiet space with a door that shuts? Childcare? Other creative people to show up for, or be present with? Knowing the answer to that question and showing how you complement the organizers’ goals will make your application better and easier to pick. You can also start planning how to get those things yourself, by enlisting friend support, asking a spouse or partner to step up, or swapping needs with a writer friend (I’ll take Little Billy for three days of movies and swimming and won’t let him drink soda or eat peanuts if you take my iguana next week, he likes a heated rock).



You’re not Cinderella. Your residency/grant/fellowship is not a Prince seeking one perfect fit with the prettiest writer in all the land. You’re Goldilocks, casually asserting your presence in other people’s space, acting like you belong there until you meet your match. This (perfect) opportunity is too small. This (wonderful) opportunity is too large. But this one is juuuuust right.



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Allison K Williams is Brevity’s Social Media Manager and loves emerging and experienced writers alike. Join her for Project Memoir January-March to make significant progress on your book with editorial feedback, live-on-Zoom classes, craft lessons and a supportive cohort. Applications close December 15th. More info here.