Feeling, suddenly, angry-upset-depressed about not making the grade to do the first masterclass at Birmingham with author Jim Crace. Apparantly they'll be doing some prose stripping (which sounds nice), but out of 13 of us who applied to do it, only 8 got through, and 5 of us have to go swing - which is fair enough...
... except it's not. I was certain my 300 word grovelling laid out my needs sure enough, so why didn't I get on. That's not a question. Why should it be?
I always reach these moments of rejection with immediate emotional response - and it's not to do with the person giving the bad news (though it is to do with the rejection itself). Questions bubble up from the super-heated froth fizzing around my brain - what was I missing? How could my 300 words have been wrong? What's wrong with me?
The response include thoughts on the losers' needs not being attuned to Jim's purpose: "creative spark, imaginative input, for example, which is not what the prose stripping sessions are actually about." Which wasn't what I need help with, so the problem is with the way I come across - and again, I doubt it was the humorous(less?) last line.
Wo what does that mean? 8 people will get to look in depth at what they need to do to spruce up their work... and I can go hang.
Self indulgent swear word coming up... FUCK IT.
And then... and then... the point is that as part of our Professional Development module we need to evaluate our masterclasses. And here is one, and I'm going to miss out on it. Jeesh, and there was me thinking I'd paid for this.