I woke at 2.57am with the sheer disappointment of it all.
Tuesday night, the room was packed with authors, supporters, publishers and a smattering of publicists. Over canapes and drinks, we met and mingled, excited for the main event.
The Business Book Awards short lists!
I even had a very small glass of wine, a swoosh of it really, and a rarity for me in the giddiness of the occasion.
The animated chatter was finally curtailed by the big moment. The business books chosen for the longed-for shortlist were announced, category by category.
I yayed two of my colleagues making it in their categories… truly joyful for them.
But I didn’t yay myself… My book wasn’t chosen!
David, one of my shortlisted colleagues, placed a warm, squeezy hand on my shoulder in commiseration. In a fast-food place on The Strand, I commiserated with myself by eating a burger and fries, washed down with a diet coke.
Which only caused me to remember why it’s been years since I’ve ate such shite food. Although totally appropriate for the feelings I wasn’t yet feeling, it was a recognised use of food to push them down.
And so, I woke at 2.57 am Wednesday morning with a memory…
School and PE!
I wasn’t a sporty girl. In fact, when it came to weekly swimming, I was the only one menstruating for a month… on month. And tennis? W T F was that all about?
Consequently, throughout my schooling, when it came to team captains publicly choosing members of their team… Yes, you know it…
I was always the very last to be “picked”, the last one standing over which a team captain had no choice.
And I knew it would happen every time.
Imagine 20 girls to be picked for 2 teams and the names of 19 are slowly called out before you, but when it comes to you, there’s no need for a calling out of your name.
The humiliation of not really being wanted is all too obvious…
There’s no sugar-coating failure!
Yes, you can rationalise, think up a reason or two why something didn’t work out. Sometimes those reasons are valid, and sometimes they’re not.
In fact, the awards organiser presenting the event rationalised at the beginning by acknowledging that all of us authors were “winners” by having written our books. No mean feat, I can tell you. And…
THAT’S NO FREAKIN’ CONSOLATION FOR NOT BEING SHORTLISTED!
It stung, and I woke up at 2:57 a.m. feeling as I did all those decades ago… disappointed and ashamed to be the last one “picked.” Although, in this case, I didn’t even get “picked”.
Way back then, such experiences fuelled my lack of self-worth and confidence, despite the outward bravado.
And now?
The glorious thing about not being shortlisted, and my consequent memory and flashback feelings, is that they’ve triggered an enormous F%#> YOU in me…
A tsunami upswell of passion and determination to shortlist myself…
How?
No freakin’ idea how at the moment, but I know I will…
As they say, watch this space, woman…
Watch this space!
Love and wild warm wishes…
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