I was served by a robot the other night. It was an unexpected development, partly because this restaurant was out in the far suburbs of the greater Chicagoland area. My mind couldn’t fathom that the future would come barreling toward me not in the fast-moving, ever-evolving urban sprawl of Chicago, but rather, it came at me in the sleepier heartland 45 minutes (with no traffic) to the northwest.
It was last Friday night. My family and I were dining at a new pho restaurant, and a four-foot robot rolled to our table with our entrees. Its cat face smiled and blinked in and out of existence at us from a digital screen, and once we removed our dishes from the robots “cargo hold,” we had to tap a button on its face to tell it that we received our food.
It was amazing, and I couldn’t help but see it as a wild precursor to what the future would bring. Throughout the restaurant, two robots served dozens of tables all around us, alleviating the human staff from having to hoist trays full of heavy dishes between the kitchen and the dining room.
As we watched these robot servers veer down the aisles of tables, carefully avoiding people and each other in their flight paths, I couldn’t help but think about my robot novella. I finished my last draft over a year ago, and just last week, I sent out another query to another publisher I had missed in my previous round of querying.
Like many people who love to create, I’m impatient. I want this novella out in the world! I want to see it in the hands of adults and teens. I want to hear about people resonating with the themes of finding one’s purpose and unlocking inner worth. Most importantly, I just want to share my two imaginary robot friends with people who will cherish them like I do. I spent years writing this adventure, and over the course of that time, my love for the two lead robots grew stronger with each draft.
Staring at these robot servers, my heart yearned to see “Machine: A Cybernetic Fairytale” on a bookstore shelf at the airport.
But it hasn’t happened yet.
Thus far, I’ve heard either crickets or polite rejections. Hearing “no” can be difficult, but it beats the silence. At least it means that someone gave the submission a few minutes of their time and was thoughtful enough to respond.
In all arenas of creativity and art, continuing despite rejection is the nature of the beast, and it’s something every artist endures, often alone. It’s never fun, but we all suffer through it. Sometimes, we’re hit with wave after wave of rejection, and when we set goals for ourselves, we can lose enthusiasm or willpower if we feel like we’re falling behind on meeting those goals.
It’s easy to feel like a failure, especially when most artists celebrate their successes online but hold back on discussing the neverending road of rejections to get there. It’s hard to lift one’s self up after each rejection, put that public face back on, and reach out again.
There is something that I keep in mind that inspires me. If you’ve ever seen my social media feed for a hot minute, you’ll probably note that one of the most influential characters that I love talking about, writing about, or engaging in is Batman. He’s been one of my biggest inspirations since I was small, and it started when I first saw Michael Keaton don the cape and cowl in 1989’s gritty Batman film.
What I never realized until way later in life is how hard that movie was to make. These days, rebooting the Batman franchise seems like a simple, slam-dunk decision for Warner Bros. The studio did it with the Christopher Nolan-helmed The Dark Knight Trilogy, again with Zack Snyder’s Batman v. Superman: Dawn of Justice, and most recently with Matt Reeves’ The Batman. Aside from these major theatrical releases, in the past 20 or so years, there have been countless cartoon series, animated movies, LEGO-related films, and so on revolving around Batman.
Once upon a time, it was incredibly difficult to bring Batman back to screens of any kind (cinema OR television). One of the leading producers of the 1989 film was a man by the name of Michael Uslan. He bought the film rights to Batman in the late 1970s. At that time, in a post-Adam West world, nobody wanted anything to do with Batman. The character was viewed as campy, kitschy, and strictly for kids, and most executives believed there was little to no money in it.
But Uslan believed. For nearly 10 years, he pitched a new Batman film to any studio executive who would listen. In that time, he encountered countless rejections, but eventually, his love of the character brought forth a new vision for The Dark Knight and changed the superhero film landscape forever. It just took the good part of a decade. Of patience. Of persistence.
His tireless dedication launched a film franchise that was absolutely instrumental to a very young me.
These days, it seems easy to pitch (and create) another Batman film, but someone had to struggle with it first. My robots aren’t Batman, and I don’t think they’ll ever inspire a similar Batmania that existed in 1989. But if I keep at it, if I keep knocking on doors, maybe someday a publisher will give me a chance to share them with the world.
If I can do it, you can do it. If we all keep at it, together, eventually… it’ll happen.
Don’t quit.
We’re all in this together,
Scott
P.S. If you want to read my articles and reviews on all things related to Batman, you can find those pieces here.