I got a big fat rejection on Friday, for a grant I’d been—not counting on, I wasn't that confident. But hopeful about I guess. 

What a bonkers human instinct. Hope!

For the past two years, I've been consumed with applying for things. Grants, screenwriting labs, residencies. Always reaching for a deadline to get me to the next draft. I was accepted to one terrific program, it's true. And I've made finalist for a few more. I've gotten some glowing rejections, which have kept me motivated, buoyed along by hope. (For the record, Friday's rejection was not one of those ones. It was kind, but devastating as I read and re-read it, parsing every word. Dumb that I've grown so attuned to the nuances of a rejection email.)

Anyhoo. Fuck hope. I need something more concrete.