This piece was written by one of my most brilliant Ph.D. students, Karen, who gave me permission to publish her piece — and while I wish I could claim to be the remarkably astute adviser who wrote the fabulous response, I cannot …

When Fate (i.e., a fellowship foundation) gives you lemons (i.e., a letter rejecting your proposal), make lemonade (i.e., write a blog about it).

If you don’t already know where this blog is going, consider yourself lucky. It means that I didn’t whine to you incessantly this past fall about the fellowship proposal I was working on.

Had I been awarded the fellowship, I would have spent the next year writing my dissertation while a foundation sent me checks totaling a possible $33,000 simply because they wanted to support my provocative research.

This morning, however, I received the following letter:

etc., etc..

I went through the five stages of rejection: 1) Denial (You want me; you just don’t realize it yet); Anger (How the hell could you not want me?); 3) Bargaining (Someone better will want me); 4) Depression (No one will ever want me); and 5) Acceptance (It’s not me, it’s you).

Here’s the academic equivalent: 1) Denial: Surely there’s been a mistake. How could anyone not want to sponsor a dissertation that deals with 19th-century deviants, for chrissakes? 2) Anger: I hate the elitism of this field. Probably Ivy Leaguers got all the fellowships because their Ivy Leaguing advisers and their high-tuition-charging friends were on the selection committee. 3) Bargaining: This is fate telling me I wasn’t meant to be an academic. Maybe if I devote myself to composing insightful and entertaining blogs, I’ll be spotted by Tina Fey or Jon Stewart and offered a position on their writing staff. 4) Depression: My project is just theoretically unsound and the subject matter a futile attempt to make an academic project sexy. Christ, maybe I wasn’t cut out for this field. 5) Acceptance: Well, I suppose it’ll be good to get more teaching experience before going on the job market. And teaching American Literature after 1880 next semester will prove a productive new experience.

Then what I did, in typical Renner fashion, was fire off a sassy e-mail to my advisers letting them know the bad news while hiding my hurt behind humor:

Dear All,

This morning I received the letter from the fellowship folks. I regret to inform you that I have not been awarded a fellowship. (If I plagiarize a form letter, do I need to cite it?)

Thank you all for your letters and guidance with the application process. It helped me rethink my dissertation in a major way.

Best, Karen

Almost instantly, I received this reply from an adviser:

Karen, Well (to put it as dispassionately as I possibly can) that sucks. You should have gotten it. I’m sorry.

In response, you could write,

“Dear Review Panel,

Thank you for your recent letter of rejection. After a thorough review of its merits, I regret to inform you that I cannot accept it. Current budgetary restraints require me to choose carefully among the many highly qualified granting agencies that would prefer not to give me money. Your rejection letter, despite its strengths, was not the best fit with my current priorities. Please send your checks to my UConn address. Should you choose to reject me again next year, I will give your application full consideration. Best wishes in your future endeavors.”

The laugh I got from this e-mail was perhaps worth rejection. Perhaps not.

(Image from Photobucket.com)