Before I realized I was a writer, I wanted to be an actress. It was a childhood dream of mine for as long as I can remember. I don’t recall what sparked this interest, but if I were to guess, it probably had something to do with the Oscars. Some people look forward to the Super Bowl. The little girl from Gatineau, Quebec, didn’t care about football. But red carpets and glamorous movie stars? The centre of my universe.
The awards ceremony was a fascinating affair. My eyes would be glued to the TV for hours as I watched shocked actors accept a statuette they never thought they’d win1. “I didn’t prepare a speech,” some would say as they pulled a piece of paper from their bustier or coat pocket. They would hold the paper, hands shaking, as they thanked all the people who helped make the movie possible. Those people were, in no particular order, God, their parents, their agent, the Academy, their spouse, the cast, fellow nominees, names us industry outsiders had no clue about, and let’s not forget the amazing, essential, can’t-live-without-them CREW. It was of utmost importance to thank the crew. Always. Always.
I wrote my first Oscars acceptance speech when I was nine or ten. I even remember practicing my speech in front of my teenage babysitter, promising that I would include her name should I ever win for real. Should I win one day (who knows where life will take me), I’d seriously consider thanking her for the sake of old times. “And last but not least,” I’d say, looking directly into the camera, “I’d like to thank Jenn! I told you it would happen!”
Why acting, though? What was that about? There was of course the fact that I could cry on demand, a skill my darling son has inherited from me. I was an expressive child, as in close to my emotions and oh how big were those emotions too! Despite being an introvert, I loved the idea of an audience. I loved putting on a show. But there was also just a feeling, a knowing that being an artist was meant for me. I think that’s why I loved the Oscars so much: it was a celebration of people who made art for a living and I deeply connected to that.
I never took acting classes, except for one week of drama summer camp when I was fourteen years-old. There was no drama club at school. There didn’t seem to be any options or places that could offer me the opportunity and outlet to express myself through acting. Apart from my bedroom mirror, the best next option was school presentations. Whenever there was a presentation, especially a group one, I’d take over and write the script, then assign roles to teammates. I made costumes too. My masterpiece was the sketch about a pregnant mother in an abusive relationship for English class. I gave myself the lead role of the mother, obviously. Unfortunately, the classmate who played my daughter in the sketch broke her jaw after our performance. We were changing out of our costumes in the girl’s bathroom and she’d forgotten to cut the lights on cue for the following group. She bolted from the bathroom in her socks and slipped, landing face first on the cold hard floor. It was a terrible scene I never could have written or foreseen: blood everywhere, a teenager screaming in agony, frantic secretaries calling an ambulance over to the school. It was awful.
When I was fifteen, an exciting opportunity finally presented itself. A girl in her senior year was putting on a play for her end-of-year project and was holding auditions. This was my chance, the moment I’d been waiting for. My friend and I both wanted a role in the play, so we rehearsed like professionals, giving each other pointers and tips to deliver an authentic performance. After the audition, I mentioned to the director (the girl in her senior year) that I’d been enrolled in the NAC2 drama camp the previous summer. I’d even done stage combat classes! I mean, where else was I supposed to get my acting experience in Gatineau? My five days in drama camp across the river had to count for something!
A week later, the names of the students cast in the play were pinned to a billboard. I was a nervous wreck. All I had ever wanted was to be on a stage. I needed that validation so badly, a little sign from the Universe that I was on the right path. My friend and I approached the crowded billboard and squeezed our way to the front. We read the list of names. Ours were nowhere to be seen.
I was devastated.
I couldn’t believe it. Not only hadn’t I been cast, but the girl who got the part I was aiming for had never mentioned acting was an interest of hers! It was MY passion and everyone knew it. It was MY destiny. Why did somebody else get the part when I was clearly on my way to the Oscars after my outstanding performance of the mother? Everybody in my class had cried, even my teacher, that’s how moving and convincing I had been. I couldn’t believe it. This was my first real, big, significant, heartbreaking rejection. Rejection with a capital “R.” Rightly or wrongly, that moment changed my life forever. The pain was so immense, and my ego was so bruised, that I decided at that moment that I would NEVER EVER put myself in the position to be rejected again. That’s the day I decided acting was over for me. As I write these words, I feel like I might cry. It’s amazing how one tiny rejection from a teenage director can wound the soul. The director, by the way, is now a well-known actor here in Quebec.
I don’t feel like crying because I yearn to be an actor now. I feel like crying because I’m sad I wasn’t more resilient. I’m sad I let one rejection deter me from my dreams. Dreams change, but I’m sad I didn’t believe in myself more. I’m sad for my fifteen-year-old self.
Twenty years have passed since the infamous Rejection. A lot has changed since then. My resilience is rock solid thanks to life experience and a heightened sense of self. I’ve chosen a career that is known for its rejections. My first manuscript has been rejected over thirty times. I was rejected from a literary magazine just a couple of weeks ago. Rejections are the name of the game when it comes to publishing. They’re part of the deal and always will be. It doesn’t matter. Because I have a dream and I believe in myself. I have stories to tell. They’ll get out there one day. Some of them are already out there thanks to this newsletter. Thank you for reading my words.
Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s time to watch the Oscars.
Roberto Benigni winning for Best Foreign Film in 1999 is a moment I will never forget. Sophia Loren shouting “ROBERRRRTO!”, followed by Roberto Benigni jumping from one backrest to another towards the stage was a magical. Here’s the Youtube link:
I’m referring to the National Arts Centre in Ottawa.
Merci Michelle ! As-tu aimé les Oscars cette année ?
Je ne les ai pas regardés. Souvent, dans le passé, comme plusieurs téléspectateurs sans doute, j'écoutais les reportages d'avant-cérémonie afin de voir les tenues glamour (je viens de vérifier, on n'ajoute pas de e au féminin de "glamour" !) et savoir qui était en couple ou plutôt, encore en couple. J'allais faire autre chose pendant toute la soirée et, beaucoup plus tard, je revenais à la télévision quand les Oscars des meilleurs films et des meilleurs acteurs avaient été décernés.
Je n'ai pas raté l'année de Roberto Benigni par contre. Je souris encore à y penser ! Merci d'inclure la vidéo de 1999. Je me souviens de la réaction "stuffed shirt" de certains collègues lors de la discussion d'après-Oscar au travail le lendemain. Tant pis pour eux !
Je comprends bien ton besoin de la scène et de t'exprimer par les arts de la scène. Moi aussi, enfant, adolescente et même jeune adulte, j'étais attirée et fascinée par le jeu et la scène, malgré le fait que j'étais timide, introvertie et que j'avais très peur de me représenter devant les autres. Je pense que j'ai fait des choses dans ma vie grâce à ce qu'on appelle si justement "le cran des timides".
Michelle, est-ce que le "R" de Rejet pourrait signifier "partie Remise" ? C'est Regrettable pour le rejet du secondaire. Afin de corriger ceci, pense à de beaux noms qui commencent par un r : Rêve, Résilience, Raffinement et...RRRoberrrrrto à la Sophia Loren !...RRRRRight?!!!