Many Rejections & Many Reflections on the Creative Process

By Sarah Liken

There was never just one rejection. There was never just one ‘no’ that stopped me. Acting and comedy teach you to expect rejection—it’s part of the work. And as someone who’s been performing since I starred as a brontosaurus in my first-grade play, I learned early what it’s like to put yourself out there and not always get the reaction you expect.

I mean, I nailed that dinosaur role, obviously, I’m a natural on stage, but every role and audition here in Chicago—here in the big city?!?—was different. For a while, I was okay. Every ‘no’ meant I was one step closer to a ‘yes.’ TELL ME NO, DADDY. I CAN TAKE IT. IT’S A GOOD THING!!! And when I did get that ‘yes,’ ooh, what a fucking rush. I am good. So, of course, it felt good. It kept me going, but somewhere along the way, the ‘no’s’ started to accumulate. I can’t pinpoint the moment. I only felt it once it all became too much. It’s like how in my high school physics class, some students started to move the teacher’s desk an inch a day, and he didn’t notice until it was across the room. I was across the room, looking around, going, what the fuck happened to me?

The feedback I’ve received most in my life is, “be more confident.” Just be more confident. It’s a blanket statement, and rarely did anyone ever tell me how to be more confident. Nor did anyone ever dissect why I might not feel confident. It was just, “be more confident. Just jump in and do it.” And while there is some validity in faking it till you make it, or power posing yourself into oblivion, it does you no good if you don’t ask yourself, why? Why don’t I feel confident?

A clown friend of mine (a trained-in-the-art-of-clowning clown, not a 🤡 clown) once told me that watching me perform was like watching someone behind a screen door. You could see me, hear me, hell, even smell me—but there was still a layer keeping me from fully reaching out and touching the audience. That metaphor stuck with me. It didn’t quite explain why I lacked confidence, lmao, but it definitely spoke to something deeper. A place I should’ve looked first.

I’d love to say everything changed after that, but it didn’t. Instead, I moved to LA—an even bigger city—to try to make it even bigger. I’M A STAR, WORLD! WATCH OUT!!! But then the pandemic hit, and I was forced to stop. And you know what? I was relieved. The pressure to keep pushing disappeared, and with it came an overwhelming sense of relief.

Of course, I did try to keep going—I did one Zoom open mic (fuck me) and attempted comedy TikToks (double fuck me). But eventually, I just couldn’t. I stopped. I cried. I never left my bedroom. And in that sobbing stillness, I found a new creative outlet: painting.

Painting. A chance to create in a new way—an opportunity for space. 

Space to create without the pressure of being seen or judged. For the first time, I wasn’t performing for anyone else. There was no audience, no rejection, just me. I mean, yes, I was posting to socials, but I wasn’t creating for likes. In that space, I realized something I’d been avoiding for years: I was running on empty. I’d been so busy expressing, chasing validation, and trying to impress everyone that I’d forgotten who was at the center of it all—me.

With each drop of paint, I wasn’t just making art—I was listening to the parts of myself I’d buried. I stopped being the character, the performer, and started reconnecting with the part of me that had always been there but had been forgotten. It was cool, like visiting an old friend. Creativity isn’t just about output; it’s about what happens inside. And when you create just for you, without any expectation, that’s when things begin to unlock.

Painting taught me that confidence isn’t some elusive prize you win by pressing on in the face of rejection. It’s cultivated, like a practice, and it starts with being okay with what you find when you sit with yourself.

So why am I yapping on about all of this? Because as creatives, we often forget that the real work happens when we’re alone. And that can be really fucking hard, especially as an actor or comedian when you literally need an audience. But creativity comes from within, and we have to stop seeking validation and allow ourselves just to create. We resist going inward, thinking it’s all about what we show the world. But if you don’t spend time with yourself, you’ll eventually run out of fuel.

Here are a few lessons I’ve learned along the way—maybe they’ll help you reconnect with your own creative process:

Forget 'Confidence'—Just Show Up

Confidence is great, but you don’t need it to start. You’re never going to feel 100% ready, so just get in there and see what happens. Show up fully as yourself and remind yourself that your perspective is valuable. True confidence comes from your support of yourself. 

Create Without the Expectation of an Audience

Make something just for you—no likes, no shares, no audience. Just you. You are great. 

Expect the Best—from Rejection and Life in General

Don’t make rejection a self-fulfilling prophecy. Understand you’ll get ‘no’s’ but train your mind to expect the best—even if that means telling yourself, “This ‘no’ is leveling me up; this ‘no’ is actually a ‘yes’ for something else; this ‘no’ is a later ‘yes.’” Rewire your brain to focus on success and positive outcomes. And listen to some Dr. Joe Dispenza while you’re at it. 

Get Comfortable Sitting with Your Thoughts (Sit. Stay. Listen. Accept. Transmute.)

If you’re avoiding alone time, ask yourself why. Sitting with your thoughts—without ignoring, numbing, or running from them—will help you. Journal. Go on walks. Talk to yourself. Meditate. You might unearth insights you didn’t know were there. Or maybe you’ll just find out you’re sexy, cool, and hilarious, and end up making out with the mirror. (I mean…what?)

Forget Good or Bad—Just Make Something.

Not every creation has to be a masterpiece. Just make. No thinky. Just makey. Embrace the weird, the messy, the downright questionable. I look at my art sometimes and think, What the fuck did I just make? People will literally ask me what a piece means and I’m like great question, my friend. Surprise yourself!

Redefine What “Success” Means to You. 

Instead of aiming for the next big “yes,” aim to impress yourself. Make it a practice to show up for you. Cheer yourself on. You being you is a win.