Rejection Letter Rigoletto

What the rejection letter says:

“Dear Brian,

Thank you for sending us a sample of your play Banshee. Although we congratulate the wonderful reception your Fringe production received, regrettably the play does not meet our needs at this time. We wish you luck in placing Banshee elsewhere.”

What the playwright hears:

“Dear Talentless,

You must be kidding, right? Did you really think, for one second, that this twee attempt at a play would ever be good enough for us? I mean, we’ve seen our share of absolute crud. Believe me, you should see some of the junk that passes through this place. Sometimes, when we’ve had about enough, we read some of this insipid dialogue aloud to each other and laugh and laugh, all the while despairing the degraded state of American letters. Sometimes we have a script fire, while other times we crumble up individual pages and play an impromptu game of baseball with an empty paper towel roll.

Your sample, however, was not even good enough to be hit for a double. In fact, while reading it I threw each of the pages into a birdcage we keep on the premises in the eventuality of such a remarkably pedestrian effort. If it is any consolation, Mr. Greenfeathers seems particularly fond of excreting on page eight. Having been forced to read page eight myself, I cannot say I blame him. In fact, I think he was a good deal more forgiving than I would have been.

Since we receive so many, many scripts that have gone on to wonderful critical and commercial success in the States and abroad, we sometimes find it hard to adequately respond to the losers who send in such self-indulgent offal (such as yourself, in case you are more delusional than I previously imagined). I have made an exception in your case in an attempt to guide your future submission to this esteemed theatre, if you actually find the gumption to ever pick up a pen once more.

Your characters most resemble stick figures, if stick figures lacked emotional depth. Your dialogue sounds like it was overheard, verbatim, at the Customer Service desk of a local Wal-Mart (if one existed in the town of this theatre’s residence, which it certainly DOES NOT! due to the timely staging of a three-act masterpiece entitled Retail Rigoletto and the Wal-Martian Invasion –THIS is the type of art that inspires us! It even has puppets!) Your play’s construction best resembles the literary equivalent of a lean-to, precariously wavering on the side of a deserted road, housing an unemployed man, his ugly, insipid wife and three snot-ridden children of questionable hygienic quality. I would call the sample of your play ineffective and lacking the evocation of a single true and noble sentiment, but that would be too kind. I found myself, with each passing phrase, more and more insulted, as if each line were a tiny slap in the face from the glove of an extremely small French nobleman. By the merciful end of your sample, an emotional and physical state overtook me that I can only compare to an unfortunate occasion when I was pummeled thrice in the groin by a writer to whom I had given a particular scathing review.

Except HER play was way better than yours. 

In summation: your feeble attempt at creation makes me feel as if I were punched repeatedly in the balls. Please refrain from sending us any more of the oily drippings from whatever psychotic region of your tiny brain is now controlling what I cautiously refer to as your “higher functions” (unless, of course, Mr. Greenfeathers becomes in need of another cage-lining, in which case we will accept your submission wholeheartedly). Better yet, please take the following steps as expeditiously as humanly possible:

  1. please break all the fingers on your writing hand
  2. please break all the fingers on your non-writing hand (in case of latent ambidexterity)
  3. please remove all paper on which words can be written or printed from your domestic abode, including toilet
  4. please erase from existence, via burning or computer deletion, every “clever” idea you think you’ve had
  5. schedule yourself for a lobotomy

When these suggested steps have been taken, please feel free to submit to this theatre once more. I’m sure we can find a few restrooms that could benefit from your particular talents. Good luck placing Banshee anywhere but here.”

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    • Theresa Petti Butler Galimi
    • March 5th, 2013

    If indeed it is true, they would have had to be morans and complete idiots to reject Banshee. Your thoughts only go to prove that. Funny stuff, as always.

  1. Alas, it is true–and they are not the only one!

    • Theresa Petti Butler Galimi
    • March 6th, 2013

    Can’t say I understand that at all. As an avid reader, I know true talent when I read it. It has nothing to do with our relation, you are one of the best writers I’ve read. I guess we’ll just have to wait until someone with brains gets hold of some of your works, my starving writer. Love you Brian.

  2. Regrettably is such an insincere word.

  3. Regrettably I’ve had to learn that the hard way!

  1. March 13th, 2013

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