The primary thing, I think, that keeps me from pursuing music opportunities is fear of rejection. My self-confidence as a musician waxes and wanes, and in the same way that a little bit of success can bring elation, a little bit of failure can derail my belief in my musical self-worth for quite awhile. But if I want to keep playing music for people, and reaching potential new audiences, I need to keep looking for gig opportunities. And stretching to seek bigger and better opportunities than I’ve had in the past. Which means I will inevitably be rejected for some of them. There are two versions of rejection. The more common version is for the venue to never respond to your queries. That’s frustrating, because it’s hard to distinguish between “your email was lost in my too-crowded inbox” from “we don’t want to book you” and so when I don’t hear back from someone I try to remember to follow up once or twice. After that, I simply assume no interest. But this non-rejection rejection does have the advantage of sparing feelings. The other version, though, is to say no directly. I appreciate that, in principle. It’s good to have an answer, and not have to keep following up or wondering. But there are ranges of rejection here, too. The nicest is some form of “I’m sorry, we won’t be able to book you at X venue.” Or “we don’t have room in our lineup for you right now” or “your music doesn’t fit with our approach.” But other folks give more information. My first serious rejection of this sort came from a radio station that declined to play my first CD and a DJ who decided to tell me why: “your songs are somewhere in the great middle area of the good. There's nothing bad or offensive there; but also, in my opinion, there's nothing extraordinary in your songwriting or performance to make your songs stand out among the many thousands of acoustic songs I already have available for my radio show.” I just received a similar rejection (although not quite so explicit) from a high-profile music series saying “while it’s not out of the question, I'm sorry to say that there are those I would choose ahead of you.” There’s something more personal about those rejections than about a standard “thanks for submitting your materials; I’m sorry we won’t be able to add you to our lineup.” And I’m not sure how I feel about that. Or rather, I know exactly how I feel about that – it feels like getting punched in the gut, even if the person isn’t intending to be mean, and even if it’s a completely truthful statement. The question is whether it’s more useful, or less, than a more generic rejection or a lack of communication altogether. And I’m genuinely on the fence about that. In some ways, rejection serves a useful purpose. I don’t want to have an overinflated view of my abilities. I don’t want to put myself in a situation where people will be laughing at me. I do want to work harder and get better. And I want to submit my music to the kind of places that are likely to appreciate it. Rejection (and rejection with explanation) can help me sort through all those things, and keep striving. But I guess what bugs me about the two rejection examples above is that they don’t actually provide useful information (other than that I’m not going to get to present my music in those places). They make the rejection more personal (“no really; it’s you. You’re not good enough”), without actually giving a reason why or something that can be done. And although I assume that the rejecters in this case have good intentions, it actually seems to be more about the person doing the rejection than the person being rejected. There’s not much more I can do but try to brush them off, and keep putting myself forward for gig opportunities. And know that, ultimately, it’s about personal taste – there are musicians I wouldn’t choose to listen to who are the favorites of other people I know (even people whose musical taste I sometimes trust). My music may not be for everyone, but if I don’t keep putting it forward, I won’t find the people who it probably is for.