Rejection Fourteen- Kindly Camera Bags

Today I sent an email to Kindly Camera Bags.

For a long time, I’ve carried this idea that you’re supposed to wait until you’re “ready” before you ask for anything. Ready meaning more followers, more credentials, more proof that you deserve to take up space in someone else’s inbox.

The truth is, I really do use their bag. It’s not a prop for photos or a brand I picked because it looks good on Instagram. It’s the bag I take with me when I’m photographing abandoned places, walking through nature in winter, or building tiny worlds with miniatures. It’s part of my process, part of the rhythm of how I move through creativity.

So I told them that.

And when I hit send, I felt the familiar surge of doubt.
The imagined rejection that arrives before the real one ever has a chance.

Rejection Therapy isn’t about chasing validation from brands or collecting polite no’s like trophies. It’s about unlearning silence.

But the important part already happened.

I asked.

RejectionThirteen- The Nightmare Animals

Today I sent out a short story.

I haven’t written much in the last two years.
Not because the stories disappeared, but because life got loud, heavy, and inconvenient.

In that time, I’ve submitted exactly one short story.
It got rejected.

And somehow, that single rejection became a wall instead of a door.

So today wasn’t just about submitting The Nightmare Animals to Horrorsmith Publishing.
It was about stepping back into a room I wasn’t sure I still belonged in.

I hit send anyway.

Maybe it gets accepted.
Maybe it gets rejected.
Either way, something important already happened:
I’m writing again.

Rejection Twelve- HubSpot

I applied to HubSpot today.
Resume updated. Cover letter upgraded to a very official PDF. Effort applied with intention.

For a moment, I pictured myself designing thoughtful, helpful work for a company that actually cares about clarity and humans. Then I reminded myself that the outcome isn’t the point. Showing up is.

Rejection Therapy isn’t about bracing for a no. It’s about refusing to opt out before someone else decides. I sent the application, closed the tab, and kept moving. No overthinking. No spiraling. Just forward motion.

If HubSpot says yes, amazing.
If they say no, also fine. I still did the thing.

Another application logged. Another step taken.

Rejection Eleven- Experiential Designer

Applied for an Experiential Designer role.

No rejection yet. No acceptance either. Just me, my portfolio, and an application floating somewhere in the corporate atmosphere like, “hello? is this thing on?”

Currently in the Waiting to Be Perceived phase of Rejection Therapy.

Still counts though. I aimed high. I hit submit. I did not talk myself out of it, which honestly deserves a small parade.

If they say yes, amazing.
If they say no, content.
If they say nothing, I will simply continue applying.

No-Yale Edition

Today’s “no” comes courtesy of Yale.
Applied for the graphic design role.
Did not get the role.
Still have the portfolio. Still have the ideas. Still standing on my little creative soapbox in Connecticut.

Rejection therapy lesson of the day:
Getting turned down by an Ivy doesn’t revoke your talent. It just means your work wasn’t meant for that hallway.

Onward.
More asks. More nos. Eventually, a yes that actually fits.

No Number 3

No. 3: SmallRig (Official Outcome Edition)

Update: it’s a no.

I asked. They answered. The universe didn’t implode. My lights didn’t turn off out of spite. Life continues.

Rejection Therapy scorecard:
• Fear: confronted
• Confidence: slightly louder
• Inbox: cleaner
• Ego: mildly bruised but resilient

A no just means I’m doing the thing instead of thinking about doing the thing. It means momentum. It means the next ask gets easier. It means I didn’t talk myself out of trying.

So thank you, SmallRig, for the clarity and the character development.

The Second Official No.

Apple said no.

Not a dramatic no.
Not a personal no.
Just a clean, efficient form email. Polite. Final. Neutral.

And honestly, that’s okay.

I didn’t reach out to Apple on a whim. I reached out because their technology played a real role in helping me keep my creativity alive during a time when I thought I might lose it. After undergoing scleral buckle surgery, my close-up vision changed in ways I wasn’t prepared for. Traditional art tools became difficult, sometimes impossible, to use.

The iPad changed that.

Its accessibility features and zoom functionality didn’t just make things easier. They made creating possible again. What felt like a door quietly closing was replaced by a different one opening. Photography, visual storytelling, digital creation. All of it continued because I was able to adapt instead of stop.

The outcome doesn’t invalidate the courage it took to ask.

You can be grateful and disappointed at the same time. You can log the rejection, take a breath, and keep going.

Apple’s answer didn’t change what their technology gave me. It didn’t erase the creativity that came back into focus. It simply reminded me that the value of asking lives in the asking itself.

So this rejection goes into the archive.
The story stays mine.
And the next ask is already waiting.

Rejection Ten-Yale

Today I applied for a role with a title big enough to make me pause before clicking submit.

Assistant Director.
Creative Content.
Graphic Design.

I asked myself the usual questions.
Am I ready?
Do I check every box?
Is my path “linear” enough?

Then I remembered why I started this project in the first place.

Rejection therapy isn’t about pretending fear doesn’t exist. It’s about letting it ride shotgun while you keep driving.

I’ve built my creative voice through doing. Through consistency. Through projects no one assigned me, deadlines no one enforced, and stories I felt compelled to tell visually. That counts. Even if it doesn’t fit neatly on a resume.

If the answer is no, I still win.
Because I didn’t shrink my ambition to match my comfort zone.

And if it’s yes?
Then I trusted myself at exactly the right moment.

Either way, this one mattered.

Rejection Nine-WWE

Today I applied for a Junior Art Director role at a place where creativity moves fast, visuals are loud, and storytelling matters.

Was I a little intimidated? Yes.
Did I apply anyway? Also yes.

I don’t have a traditional art school background. I have a Master’s in Criminal Justice, a camera, design software, a lot of late nights creating, and a brain wired for stories, details, and patterns. Turns out those skills travel pretty well.

This application wasn’t about “getting it right.”
It was about showing up, claiming space, and saying:
I belong in rooms where ideas are built at full volume.

If this becomes a rejection, that’s fine. Rejection therapy means collecting proof that I’m brave enough to try, even when the outcome isn’t guaranteed.

Either way, I’m proud of this one.

Rejection Eight- SmallRig

Today I sent an email to SmallRig asking for support for my photography.

Yes, my stomach did a little flip.
Yes, I reread the email twelve times.
Yes, I hovered over “send” like it might bite me.

I already use their lights. Especially for macro and miniature photography, where the difference between “meh” and magic is often a few millimeters of light and shadow. Their gear is already part of how I build tiny worlds and tell quiet stories, so asking didn’t feel fake. It felt… honest.

If they say yes, amazing.
If they say no, I still made the work.
If they never respond, I still showed up.

Today’s win wasn’t the ask.
It was pressing send anyway.

Tiny lights. Tiny worlds. Big courage.

This is an example of my set up. If you want to see the final, polished image, hop over to Day Twenty One in my Photo a Day series.

Rejection Seven-Asking a Brand I Admire

Today’s rejection therapy wasn’t about getting a yes.
It was about sending an email I almost didn’t send.

I reached out to Peak Design.

Not with a flashy pitch. Not with numbers or promises or a perfectly polished ask. Just an honest email about the work I’m already doing, the projects I’m already sharing, and a simple question: Is there room for something small and story-driven here?

This kind of ask still makes my chest tighten.
There’s a voice that says: You’re not big enough yet.
Another that whispers: Wait until you’re more established.
And the loudest one: Why would they say yes?

But rejection therapy isn’t about controlling the answer.
It’s about practicing the ask anyway.

Hitting send felt like standing still instead of shrinking back. It felt like choosing to be visible rather than waiting for permission that may never come. No matter what happens next, the win already happened. I showed up.

If the answer is no, that’s information, not failure.
If the answer is silence, that’s still survivable.
And if the answer is yes, that’s just icing.

Today wasn’t about Peak Design, really.
It was about reminding myself that my work deserves to be offered, not hidden.

On to the next ask.

Rejection Six- Apple

Today, I did the thing.

I sent an email to Apple.

Not a pitch wrapped in buzzwords. Not a perfectly polished brand deck. Just my story, told plainly, and the quiet question at the end: Would you consider supporting this work?

For my Rejection Therapy project, the point isn’t whether someone says yes. It’s whether I’m willing to ask at all. And this ask felt heavier than most.

Why Apple felt personal

Years ago, I had scleral buckle surgery that permanently affected my vision. Before that, I created art traditionally, drawing, painting, working with fine details by hand. After the surgery, those things became exhausting and, at times, impossible. I couldn’t see clearly enough to work the way I used to.

For a long time, I thought that part of my creativity might be over.

What changed everything was my iPad.

The zoom and accessibility features didn’t just make things easier, they made them possible again. Being able to enlarge my canvas and adapt visually allowed me to keep creating when I thought I might have to stop altogether. It’s not an exaggeration to say that the iPad saved my creativity.

So submitting to Apple wasn’t about asking for free technology. It was about acknowledging a truth: their tools helped me adapt instead of disappear.

What I asked for

I shared my current projects, including my Photo A Day series and my long-term project, One Photo From Every Town in Connecticut. I talked about how I document these projects publicly, how they center on showing up consistently, and how accessibility plays a real role in my ability to do the work.

And then I asked.

Would they consider supporting this work through donated or refurbished technology?
Would there be room for alignment with accessibility or creative storytelling?

I didn’t oversell it. I didn’t promise virality. I didn’t pretend certainty.

I just asked.

The part that matters most

Right now, I don’t know what the answer will be.

It might be no.
It might be silence.
It might be a polite redirect.

But that’s not failure.

For me, the win is in the submission itself. In choosing not to self-reject. In letting my story exist in someone else’s inbox instead of staying locked safely in my head.

Rejection Therapy isn’t about becoming fearless. It’s about acting anyway.

Today, I acted.

And regardless of the response, I’m proud that I did.

Rejection Five- The First Offical NO

Not even 24 hours after emailing Artifact Uprising, I received a rejection.

This was a “nothing personal, we aren’t taking on partnerships at the moment.” While this has nothing to do with me or my projects, it’s still a rejection, still a no.

And that’s okay. This process is about reaching out and trying, seeing what’s out there even though the majority of it won’t be for me.

I put myself out there. I presented my work to people and made myself vulnerable.

Here’s to many more NOs.

Rejection Five- Artifact Uprising

There’s a moment before you hit send.

The cursor blinks. Your brain lists all the reasons not to bother. That’s the moment I’m paying attention to this year.

I sent a partnership proposal to Artifact Uprising.

At the same time, I’m working on One Photo from Each Town in Connecticut. The goal is simple: one intentional photograph from every town in the state. Quiet images. Texture over spectacle. This project has always been made with print in mind, and it will eventually become a photo book you can hold, not scroll past.

The outcome of the email doesn’t really matter. Yes, no, or silence are all survivable.

What matters is the act of sending it. Of treating my work as something worthy of being seen and supported.

Rejection therapy isn’t about becoming fearless. It’s about letting fear sit in the room while I keep moving forward anyway.

Rejection Four- The Sponsorship

As part of my Rejection Therapy series, I’ve been deliberately putting myself in situations where the answer could be “no.” The goal isn’t to get rejected—it’s to get comfortable with it, to stop letting fear run the show, and to keep moving forward anyway.

Recently, I decided to take it to a big, intimidating level: I asked Nikon to sponsor me. Yes, the company behind the cameras I’ve been working with—the D7500 that’s become my creative companion. I drafted an email, carefully outlining my projects: my Photo-a-Day Challenge, where I create and share a photo every day, and my long-term project, One Image from Every Town in Connecticut. Both projects are deeply personal, rooted in mental health and arts access, and shared publicly to encourage others to create without fear of perfection.

Hitting “send” was surprisingly hard. It felt like stepping onto a stage without knowing if anyone would applaud. But that’s the point of Rejection Therapy: I don’t have to be perfect. I don’t even have to succeed. I just have to try.

Even if the answer is no, this exercise reminds me that fear doesn’t have to dictate my creativity. And who knows? Maybe one day I’ll see Nikon gear as part of my toolkit, helping me reach more people and continue using photography as a tool for mental well-being.

Rejection is uncomfortable. But it’s also a reminder that the things worth pursuing are often the things that scare us the most.

So, Nikon: if you’re listening… consider this my bold, messy, heart-on-the-sleeve ask.

Rejection Three- The Logo

I’ve just entered the Bridgeport Seawalk Logo Contest.

I’ve made logos for people before. There’s a link above to them.

This is for the Seawalk currently underway in Bridgeport CT. The prize is $5000.

I went for a vintage feel with this one, something that is reminiscent of old postcards. It’s got a rough, worn texture to it, which I’m not sure will work for me or against me.

Anyway. Here’s to another rejection.

Winner will be announced April 1st.

Rejection Two-Applying for a Job

This one kind of fell in my lap.

I’ve applied to a job.

I have a job, currently and I like that job. Do I love that job? Is it my dream job? No. I’m also not actively looking to change jobs. Not unless something perfect came along.

And it did.

This morning I’ve applied to a photo/video producer for Lockheed Martin.

Why do I think this will be a rejection? I’ve applied to there for years. Years and years, applied to various positions and have never gotten a call back. Mostly I get nothing, sometimes I get the stock “we’ve gone another way.”

Would I love this job? Yes. I would love to have a job where I can be creative, where I can use the skills I love, where I can be a part of something that actually feels like it feeds my creative soul.

I won’t hold my breath for a “yes” but normally I wouldn’t even apply if I thought there was a chance I would get rejected. But that’s what we’re doing here, right? We’re putting ourselves out there even if there’s a good chance it will be a huge, resounding NO. We’re getting over the fear of rejection, of not being good enough, of not being what they’re looking for. We’re just going for it.

Wish me luck.

Rejection One- The Submission

I’ve submitted a photo to the contest. This is an older photo I took while walking on my street after it rained.

Do I think it may get rejected? Yes. Why? Because this contest was intended to be an image from the three towns. While mine is an image from my own town, it’s not a recognizable landmark or something anyone would see and say “oh, I know where that is.” While the submission guidelines don’t say it has to be, there’s a part of me that says it should be.

I wanted to go with something I found beautiful, something I really loved. It’s true, I could have taken a drive around, could have gotten a photograph of the Town Hall or the Library or the Church. Even the park or some other place anyone would know was this town. I didn’t. I’m trying to be authentic to myself in this challenge and embrace the rejection, especially when I know it’s coming. You tell me… what do you think?

Rejection One

I've decided to submit a photograph to a very small, local photo contest. I haven’t yet decided which photograph I’ll use. I have a few more weeks until the deadline.

I’ve never submitted a photograph for anything. I’ve never sold a photo.

We’ll see how this goes.

Rejection is the goal of 2026

I’ve got two goals this year. One is to take a photo every day and post it. The other is to get myself rejected at least 100 times through out 2026.

Why? Because it forces me out of my comfort zone. Because it makes me try new things. I plan on starting small and I promise I’ll be gentle with myself. This isn’t going to be a form of self-punishment. I hope you join me on this journey.