I’m unusually bad at applying to things.
In spite of being honest, smart, and competent, for most of my life I’ve consistently been rejected from work opportunities, scholarships, grants, fellowships, and various minor events of admittedly nebulous value. A few of the applications were long shots, but most weren’t; I expected to have a higher success rate than I did. I can only imagine that some aspect of my personality reliably turns people off, or that I don’t know the right shibboleths, or that I picked up a curse somewhere along the way: “Thou shalt never be admitted to anything. Ever. Fuck you, eternal reject.”
The string of rejections ended a year or two ago when I stopped sending applications on principle. I was tired of writing honest, painstaking responses to inane questions, tired of being judged by ignorant gatekeepers, tired of receiving fake-apologetic emails explaining how the applicant pool was more competitive than the gladiator matches during the coronation of Caesar. I was very frustrated by what I saw as a repeated invalidation of my entire being. So I decided that I would reject everyone else and not apply to their stupid programs and retreats and fellowships in the first place.
Doing this made me much happier. It turns out that receiving bad news every week or two made me consistently, passively angry, and I didn’t notice until the feeling went away. Each disappointment, even the minor ones, pressed on a sore spot that had formed some time in high school and had become more and more painful over the years.
In retrospect, I sent most of the applications primarily in search of validation. In many cases the actual acceptance would have mattered less to me than the stamp of approval: You’re on the right path. We have determined that you’re very cool. etc. Once I stopped sending applications, I realized that I could just acknowledge my own strengths: I learn quickly. I have so many skills. I literally never give up.
After that, judgment from random strangers no longer had a place in my life.
The common-sense answer to “how do I get what I want” is “find people who can give it to you, and ask politely.” This has not worked for me. I suspect that it only works for very few people, and everyone else keeps quiet about all the rejections to save face.
The other answer, the one I prefer, is to leave your fate to the market. Become conpicuously masterful at whatever it is that you do. Put the fragments of your soul on public display. The response, good or bad, will be more honest than that of any individual.