You know that saying that rejection letters come in threes? Okay, maybe that saying applies to deaths only, but here is the first in a series of three rejection letters, two of which are particularly depressing. This is one of them.
I was hoping the University of Cincinnati would pay me to work on my opera this summer, especially because I receive no stipend during the summer months. How nice would it be to receive some funding for furthering the field of contemporary comedic opera! How many comic operas are being written these days? And what will I do this summer? Flip burgers? Make lattes? Become a one-woman escort service and work those boots I bought myself for my 30th birthday?
I feel completely deflated, especially because I was rejected on my home turf. Don't I have home field advantage this year? Why was my proposal rejected? I suppose I will set up a meeting and find out.
Frankly, I'm probably too sleep-deprived (from my orchestra piece) and cranky to deal with this now. But parts and score are completed! (Except I might have to quickly fix the harp part before the conductor finds out.) And the orchestra reading will be BAD ASS.