I came up with a pitch to an animation studio. It was about a small town where you couldn’t shout, “Shut that rooster up!” or even just tell the farmers to quiet their roosters. Otherwise, you’d get fined.
I walked into the room with executives and breathed. Then I explained my idea.
“Thank you, everyone,” I said.
But there was silence. A few people shook their heads.
“Sorry, Miss Taylor, but we’re going to have to pass,” said, Mr. Craig, the boss.
I inhaled and exhaled again. “All right.” I walked out of the room.
I knew that rejection happened a lot. In fact, I was even aware that it was normal.
I got into my car and drove home.
Several minutes had passed. I arrived at my house—only to hear clucking next door. I leaned toward the sound. There were chickens in my neighbor’s backyard.
Mr. Jones stepped out. “Hey, Lola, I heard about your cartoon idea. It sounds pretty good.”
“Thanks,” I muttered. Then I paused. “Wait—how do you know about my idea?”
“Mr. Craig told me,” he said.
My eyebrows raised. Mr. Craig had been the boss at the studio and he’d rejected the idea—unless Mr. Jones referred to a different Mr. Craig.
“He’s actually a good friend of mine,” said Mr. Jones.
“Wait, what does he do?” I asked.
“He’s the head of the local animation studio,” Mr. Jones answered.
“He rejected the idea, though.”
“For a TV show,” Mr. Jones said. “However, he will gladly make it into a web series.”
I smiled. “Really?”
“Yes,” replied Mr. Jones.
“Tell him I said thanks.”
“Sure thing.”