Last week, a Princeton
professor's resume of rejections went viral with twitterati embracing it as
'inspiring' and 'brilliant'. The idea, he said, was to put life's failures in
perspective so they don't overwhelm us.
5/11/2016 Times of India
I stopped counting after 20 rejections, says bestselling author Amish May 8, 2016,
TOI asked author Amish Tripathi to
draft his own bio-data of bad times.
The
book I struggled to write 2003-2004:
I started writing my first book, The Immortals
of Meluha, in my spare time while working at IDBI Bank. Writing the first book
was a challenge since my only creative foray in this area, till then, was
schoollevel essay writing and some terrible poetry. I had a strategic plan on
how to write my book, but it flopped. I'd read some self-help books on writing
that advised drawing character sketches for each character. I did this, but
none of the characters were willing to follow the sketches; they insisted on doing
their own thing. Ultimately, I dropped the 'strategic plan' and wrote the story
the way it came to me, instinctively.
I stopped
counting after 20 rejections 2007-2009:
I
was now at IDBI Federal Life Insurance, as their National Head for Marketing,
Product Management and Service Quality. I was also a member of the Senior
Management Committee there. The manuscript was now ready to be taken to
publishers. I knew no one in publishing and the only relationship I had with
the industry was as a reader of its books. My agent and I drew up a plan,
listing the publishers to whom we would send the manuscript. It was rejected by
every single one, big and small. I stopped counting after 20 rejections. Some
of them gave me well-meaning feedback on why my book would be, in their own
words, 'a guaranteed failure'. They said that I insisted on inserting
philosophies and a religious theme, which meant that the youth would not like
my book. The everyday English used would distance the literati. And the novel
interpretation of religion meant that older, religious people would not like
it. I was told that I had alienated every possible reader segment. As
rejections go, it could not have been a more comprehensive one, and it was
reasonably damaging to my confidence. The one publisher who was willing to even
consider publishing the book, said, "Though the story is fast-paced, there
are too many gyan sessions in your book. If you're willing to edit out the
philosophising, we may evaluate your work". I declined and in 2010 decided
to self-publish.
Raghu Dixit talks
about the day when a record label told him he was not good-looking enough.
8-9 labels turned me
down 1999:
I quit my job as a research assistant in a
pharma company in Belgium, called up record labels in India, and hopped on a
flight to Mumbai. I was going by some positive reviews I had got for a radio
show done in Belgium. When I met the labels, most of them didn't even remember
giving me an appointment. Those who did, rejected me saying that my music
wasn't saleable. My demo, which featured me playing the guitar and singing
along with a violinist, got rejected by eight to nine labels. After a week, I
found a job in Bengaluru to make ends meet — as a technical writer for a
software company. With my savings I bought a computer and began learning
recording.
Tried, and tried again
2000-2005:
Every few months I'd record new
songs, tweak old ones, and send a revamped demo to record labels only to never
hear back again, or get the same old replies. A certain Bengaluru studio showed
interest, but it was shortlived. I later quit my job and focused solely on
music — live music, jingles, even employee motivational tracks for corporates.
It was really frustrating to chase an agency for six to seven months for
payment.
No talent, no
looks, I was told 2005:
My lowest point came in 2005. I was supposed
to meet a major record label with a very strong demo. I was made to wait for
five hours in the lobby. Eventually, I was told that the guy who was supposed
to meet me was on leave. The substitute, a woman, told me she would give me
only five minutes. When I handed her my demo, she mocked me: "Neither is
your music saleable nor are you the sort of good-looking guy I could place on a
poster." It was like a slap on the face. I broke down outside the studio.
I remember bawling like a child on Linking Road, thinking: "This is it.
It's over." But in about five minutes, I got a call from a friend about a
live gig at a Bandra club. I went there thinking it would be my last show.
Little did I know that Vishal Dadlani would be sitting in the crowd. I was
discovered that day. The rest is history.
When TV Mohandas
Pai had to publicly apologise to Infosys investors
Cricket taught me a lesson about relative performance
1973:
I was once asked to contest for the
post of school leader. When I went on stage, I was struck by stage fright and
could not speak at all. I lost miserably. In college, I was desperate to get
into the cricket team. I would've made the team in most colleges but since our
class already had three fast bowlers, I played in only two matches. It taught
me the importance of relative performance. Did badly in maths 1980: I wanted to
become a chartered accountant but had not studied maths properly. I scored a high
all-India rank and a gold medal in auditing, but I did rather badly in the
maths section of the exam. It is important to balance your strengths and
weaknesses.
Had to apologise to investors 1994:
When I joined Infosys in 1994, we had good
liquidity and wanted to earn high returns from investments. We put money into
the IPO market, made money, and then lost it. In a quarterly call, I even
publicly apologized to investors. We then drew up India's first financial
policy for a listed company, and the rest is history. Again exposed my maths
weakness 1999: In our first investor call after the Nasdaq listing, I fumbled
on some questions. I realized I wasn't fully prepared. That day onwards, I
resolved I would have all the numbers on my fingertips, and maths would become
my friend.
When Kalki
Koechlin did a teleshopping ad for a hotpink exercise machine
Failed audition
after audition 2003-06:
While I was studying drama and theatre at Goldsmiths,
University of London, I did audition after audition. There was little work and
almost no money. So I took to waitressing at Cafe Rouge. At one point I was
selling popcorn in a cinema. With little money to afford rent or good food, my
meals consisted primarily of junk food. So I also put on around 10kg. My
parents were so worried about my career they suggested I do a backup course in
writing. Did an ad for a hot-pink exercise machine 2007-08: When I came back to
India, I lived off my brother at his Bengaluru house for a while. I took up odd
jobs to afford rent. That's when I happened to do one of those embarrassing
Teleshopping ads. It was 20 minutes of an excruciating sales pitch for a
hot-pink exercise machine. What's worse, after Dev D made my face recognizable,
the ad was re-released. I couldn't stop laughing, but it had paid two months of
rent.
My own emotional
atyachar 2009:
After Dev D's
success, I assumed I would get some interesting roles. But the film had
typecast me. Most of the film roles I got were those of a prostitute. I didn't
do any work for one and a half years, and went back to theatre. I even wrote a
play on unemployment with another actor and we cast ourselves in it. What's
worse, my next film, Emotional Atyachar, lasted on screens for like three days.
I remember thinking I would never get a good film again. I switched my phone
off after Shanghai 2012: Shanghai was one of my favourite films. I felt the
script was very powerful and I put a lot of heart into my performance. It was
even one of Emraan's best performances. But the film didn't do well and I was
so disheartened I switched my phone off for three weeks and went off all social
media. I remember doubting my own judgment. I don't regret the film now — it
meant a lot to me.
link- http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/home/sunday-times/When-Kalki-Koechlin-did-a-teleshopping-ad-for-a-hot-pink-exercise-machine/articleshow/52169628.cms
