Rejection Fifteen- Book of the Month

There are jobs you apply for because you should.

And then there are jobs you apply for because they feel like a secret version of your life you’re almost afraid to imagine.

Book of the Month Club was the second kind.

I’ve always been drawn to the space where books and design meet. Book covers, typography, mood, visual storytelling—these aren’t just aesthetic choices to me. They’re the first whispers of a story. The moment a reader decides whether to lean closer or walk away. So when I saw the opportunity to apply to Book of the Month Club, it felt less like a job posting and more like a dare.

So I applied.

I wrote about my experience designing book covers and working with visual narrative. I shared my portfolio. I tried to articulate something that’s hard to put into professional language: that I don’t just design things, I build atmospheres. I think in stories, shadows, textures, and emotions. I design with the reader in mind, with the understanding that a single image can shape how a story is felt before it’s even read.

Then came the part that made my stomach drop a little.

The job is in New York City.

Not just a different company. A different city. A different life. New York isn’t a small change—it’s a seismic one. It’s louder, faster, bigger. It’s the kind of place that demands more courage than comfort. Applying suddenly felt like more than a career move; it felt like admitting that I might be ready for something much larger than the world I’ve carefully built around myself.

And that was terrifying.

I almost didn’t hit submit.

But that’s the point of rejection therapy, isn’t it?

It’s not about chasing validation. It’s about practicing bravery in small, deliberate acts. It’s about choosing possibility over safety, even when the outcome is uncertain. Especially when it’s uncertain.

Will they say yes? Probably not.
Will it sting if they don’t? Probably.
Will I regret applying? Absolutely not.

Because today wasn’t just about applying for a job.

It was about acknowledging a quieter truth: that part of me wants more. More challenge. More creative space. More risk. More story.

Maybe nothing will come of this application. Or maybe it will. Either way, something already changed the moment I allowed myself to try.