rejection

The Secret Sauce to the Dr. Seuss Success Story

A lot of people know the story of Dr. Seuss and The Cat and the Hat—about how his publisher challenged the author to write a book using just 250 words. Challenge accepted, challenge won! Three years another bet inspired the iconic Green Eggs and Ham, a nifty little book that boasts just fifty different words.

BUT, have you ever wondered how the ordinary Theodore Geisel became the famous Dr. Seuss?

Having grown up collecting Dr. Seuss’s many famous titles (he’s sold nearly 700 million copies), it’s hard to believe that publishers initially spurned Geisel. His first children’s book, And to Think I Saw it on Mulberry Street, was rejected almost thirty times. It’s a miracle he didn’t just give up and never write anything ever again.

I don’t know who needs to hear this today, but if you’re facing rejection—of any kind—keep in mind that Dr. Seuss, arguably the most famous children’s author of all time, heard the word “no” 27 times!

(For reference, J.K. Rowling’s first Harry Potter book was rejected just twelve times. But I’ll save the rejection commentary for a post on another day.)

So…

What happened? Who would take a chance on a guy that had already been rejected by nearly every publisher in town?

Funny story, actually.

One day, Geisel was walking through New York City, manuscript in hand, dejected and forlorn. He was thinking about how when he got home he was going to burn the manuscript to that book. (After all, it was obviously a dead end. Nobody wanted it, so it must be garbage, right?).

Wrong!

Istead, something magical happened.

Geisel bumped into Mike McClintock, an old friend from his college days at Dartmouth:

McClintock said, "What's that under your arm?"

I said, "A book that no one will publish. I'm lugging it home to burn."

Then I asked Mike, "What are you doing?"

He said, "This morning I was appointed juvenile editor of Vanguard Press, and we happen to be standing in front of my office; would you like to come inside?"

So, we went inside, and he looked at the book and took me to the president of Vanguard Press. Twenty minutes later we were signing contracts.

That's one of the reasons I believe in luck. If I'd been going down the other side of Madison Avenue, I would be in the dry-cleaning business today!

Mulberry Street was published in 1937.

And the rest is history.

Actually…

Geisel took a detour from children’s book writing in the 1940s. With the advent of WWII, like so many comrades, he began writing and drawing editorial cartoons for PM Magazine, then accepted an assignment with the U.S. Army’s documentary division, ultimately winning a couple of Academy Awards for projects he spearheaded during that time.

It wasn’t until 1947 that Geisel returned to children’s books, and he didn’t publish the famous Cat in the Hat until ten years after that.

So, what can we learn from the Dr. Seuss success story?

It’s hard to imagine a world without Dr. Seuss.
But perhaps Dr. Seuss couldn’t imagine a world without Mike McClintock!

The story is a reminder to me that it’s impossible to pull yourself up by your own bootstraps (Read more about that here!).

In the late 1950s, things had shifted, with Geisel’s old friend, McClintock, working on a children’s book of his own. Now, it was Geisel’s turn to encourage his friend. In a letter to McClintock, Geisel wrote, “You’ve hit something there that has more terrific chances of becoming a classic than anything I’ve seen in a hell of a long time. The basic concept of fear, and running away from things, has something to say. The reader grasps it instantaneously, and then it builds, builds builds.”

(You can read A Fly Went By by Mike McClintock here.)

As I re-read Geisel’s words to his friend now, I feel a bit emotional. When someone we admire validates something we hold dear, their words carry immeasurable weight. Those words can literally be the impetus to keep us going when the going gets tough.

A Hand Up

Stories like this are the reason why quotes like “Your network is your net worth” are so popular. It’s also a reminder to me that it’s rare for something wonderful to be created in a vacuum.

Because I am a homemaker and my kids are mostly grown, my opportunities to “put myself out there” aren’t as prolific as I’d like them to be. I have to make a concerted effort. And I’ll be honest, that’s getting harder and harder. It’s easy to stay home and just “do my thing.”

I have to remind myself that nearly every interesting opportunity I’ve ever had has been the result of a connection made on my behalf.

C’mon, people, let’s be more bold about sharing our dreams!

What if Theodore Geisel, embarrassed that he had been rejected so many times, had passed his friend on the street and decided not to tell him what had happened? What if he had tried to spin a tale to make himself sound more successful than he actually was? What if the two had just shared a cursory fist-bump and walked on?

These are Dartmouth guys, after all. It’s hard to imagine two ivy league men sharing a moment of vulnerability on a busy New York street corner.

In telling the truth, Geisel received a priceless gift.


Some Christians might call it a “God thing.”
Bystanders would probably chalk the whole exchange up to coincidence.
Geisel, himself, said he was just plain “lucky.”

But the reality is that people like to feel helpful.

McClintock’s position in 1937 gave him a unique vantage. Years later, the tide had shifted, and now Geisel was the man with all the influence. Geisel could make things happen for McClintock. And he did, ultimately editing A Fly Went By and inviting McClintock to write for his Beginner Books series for children.

The need to be needed is one of our fundamental desires. We want to feel significant in the eyes of others, even if it is only one other person. We want to feel like we play an important role, whether in an organization, family, or life of another. The need to be needed is rooted in our need for a sense of contribution to something beyond ourselves.
— Steve Rose, PhD,

The Need to be Needed

The Need to be Needed theory makes it sound like helping out a friend is a selfish thing. I don’t think so, though. I think that’s the beauty of helping someone else get what they want. In doing so, we get the very thing our own soul craves: validation.

In this season, I find more time available to me—time I can use to help others get what they want.

When mission and purpose intersect with position and influence, you get to experience the joy of generosity.

Maybe right now you wish you had a hand-up for a dream you’re carrying. Don’t burn it down just yet. In the meantime, maybe you can be the bridge for someone else’s dream.

To be fair, sometimes that’s more fulfilling anyway.

Anything I can do to help you? Let me know by replying to this email.

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Playing Small is not an Option

Many of us remember high school as a cut-throat, dog-eat-dog marathon popularity contest and rejection fest. That was never more apparent than in my 5th and 6th period acting class. Improvisation. Monologues. Role playing games. Voice calisthenics. And then the dreaded auditions. Talk about rejection! But casting was never just about talent. How do I know this? Because our instructor loved to repeat this well known theatre adage:

“There are no small parts, only small actors.”

I used to think she only said that to make us feel better about ourselves when we didn’t see our names on the cast list. As our teacher, she needed to cut off jealousy, hurt feelings, and petty grievances at the source.

But Ms. Bishop wasn’t the first teacher to admonish her students with these words. For theatre kids like me and professional actors all over the world, it was Konstantin Stanislavski, the father of modern acting, who coined the phrase: “There are no small parts, only small actors.”

Prior to Stanislavski, actors with smaller roles often gave “smaller” performances. They moved with no sense of purpose. They performed their characters with no depth; no commitment. In effect, they were spectators more than they were actors.

Stanislavski found this unacceptable. He required actors who performed in his theatre productions to engage their roles with equal commitment, whether they were lead actors with large roles or supporting actors with few lines or no lines at all.

——-Acting Magazine, July 2018

Three centuries earlier, Shakespeare, the father of English literature, likened the whole human experience to one big theatre production:

All the world’s a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages.

There are no small parts, only small actors.

If I’m being honest, I haven’t always taken the high road. I’ve played it small, looking around and seeing people with opportunity and success looming large right in front of them and thinking: “Why not me? Why don’t I have their talent? Money? Connections? Education? Luck?”

As a young mom, I sometimes complained about the time I spent nursing, changing diapers, and doing laundry. Under the burden of all the things I had to do, I felt like my own raw talent would shrivel up and disappear for good. But these were lies. Those “small” parts weren’t small at all. Muscles I didn’t even know I had were flexing and growing.

Stanislavski believed that every role, regardless of size, mattered. In order for the audience to embrace the story, he emphasized that every single person who worked on the production had to deliver exacting authenticity. (We’ll come back to this later.)

Let’s be real: Even being a part of the ensemble is awesome. How many of us have seen Hamilton, only to be mesmerized by the seamless choreography of the supporting cast? How many of us found ourselves awestruck by the pageantry of a show like Phantom of the Opera, gasping at the drama of a “shattered” chandelier, but never asking “how”? How many of us felt our hearts swell as the ensemble in Les Mis sang “Do You Hear the People Sing?”

Not every actor can or even should be a lead. Some actors need more experience behind the scenes before they’re ready for a bigger role in front of an audience. Acting, like life, is extremely subjective. It takes years of practice, and even the best ones don’t always get a chance at the big-time. To be sure, things like connections and luck do contribute to success.

One of the best parts about being a part of that high school cast was that I got asked to do a bunch of things I didn’t even know I was auditioning for. Actors, by themselves, aren’t all that special. They need the support of those who understand costuming and sound effects, marketing and light design. I learned how to do all those things. And for one special production, our entire class collaborated to write an original play (and we won first place in the state competition!). Behind the scenes and in front of an audience, I saw first-hand how integral every single person was to the success of the entire show.

In college, I thought I was preparing for the role of a lifetime—medical school. I could practically taste the credibility and respect. I could count the money and influence. But instead of getting the role of “student,” I landed the part of “mother,” and my life has never been the same.

Am I going to complain that I didn’t get the role that came with a spotlight? (Is that even something I want now?) Or am I going to accept what I’ve been given with the grace and tenacity of a girl who is out to prove that she can be trusted with small roles, too?

Stanislavski suggests that there are seven questions that actor should ask herself in order to fully understand her character:

  • Who am I?

  • Where am I?

  • What time is it?

  • What do I want?

  • Why do I want it?

  • How will I get what I want?

  • What must I overcome to get what I want?

Understanding ourselves and the world we live in is the first step in creating a life of value. Time and place matter because these things are fluid. Just because you are deep in the throes of mothering or school or work right now doesn’t mean you always will be. In fact, one of the best things that could happen to you might be not getting what you want. And as painful as that truth feels right now, you might be surprised at what you uncover when you ask yourself why you want it in the first place.

I realized there were a thousand other ways I could create the life I wanted without being a doctor.

There’s actually two parts to the Stanislavski Method of acting, and it’s this second part that might be the most important of all. It’s called The Magic If:

Utilizing the magic if, you can place yourself in any given scenario and imagine exactly what your character should and would do. In life, that character is YOU. When you understand who you are at your core, you get to make decisions that are congruent with both your values and desires. This is true authenticity!

  • How would you respond if …?

  • How would you behave if….?

  • What thoughts would go through your mind if…?

  • How would you feel if….?

  • How would your life change if…?

Embracing Empathy

The biggest thing I learned from being an actor? Empathy. According to author Josh Linker of Big Little Breakthroughs, “the empathetic process actually leads to more creativity.” First introduced to the concept of empathy as a young acting student, I’ve since discovered that it’s given me not only a love for other people, but grace for myself. Empathy has shown me not only how to identify problems around me but also how to use both my experience and imagination to solve them.

Playing it small is thinking there’s only one way to be successful, happy, influential, or even helpful. Like Shakespeare said, we are all actors with our entrances and exits, and one man (or woman) in her time “plays many parts.”

All the parts I played have made me a better mom, sister, wife, friend, and ultimately a better human. After all, every role is important. I’m embarrassed I ever thought some of them were small. Indeed, the things I originally perceived as “small” turned out to be the biggest opportunities to shape not only my own generation, but the generation to come.


I hope you’ve found this post helpful. My prayer is that the next time you find yourself face-to-face with an open casting call for a role you didn’t necessarily choose, you too will be ready to take the stage.


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