An article in KQED Arts takes issue with the selections the magazine makes. When a colleague was a finalist but didn't win there was a lot of bitterness believing his caption was better than the winner's.
Here's the article.
Welcome to the world of comedy rejection.
Comedy is soooo subjective. 5,000 people apparently enter every week. Can you really take it personally when yours isn't selected? I mean, seriously?
Obviously, you're going to think that your entry was better. I've got news for you: in 90% of cases, you're wrong.
But that attitude is still a great motivator. How many talented people became successful sitcom writers when they watched the crap on TV and said, "I could do better that this!"?
But 5,000 to 1 are staggering odds. You may write the most brilliant caption ever and it gets lost, or the reader didn't get it, or didn't read it right, or was in a bad mood, or has a different sensibility, or seventeen other reasons.
I find this when entering ten-minute plays in festivals. Plays that won major festivals get rejected by minor festivals. It's all subjective. I can't take it personally. It's worth it to me to keep submitting, and along the way I do get some acceptances, so I continue. And I file the rejections and forget about it.
In the case of the caption contest, a very prominent comedy writer and I used to submit. We would run our captions by each other to make sure they were good enough. I trust this person's opinion of comedy way more than some assistant editor's. We would send them in. And then nothing. Neither of us were ever finalists. Did I think mine were better than those selected? Most of the time. Sometimes I thought the one they picked was terrific. And often I thought the one my comedy writer pal submitted was better than mine.
But like I said, we never broke through. So what did we do? Instead of getting mad, and challenging their selection process, we simply stopped submitting. We happily went on about our lives. In this case, it wasn't worth it to keep submitting. Better to focus my talents on something else.
And that would be my advice to anyone frustrated over not winning. There's no big cash prize. There's no fellowship attached. There's no job with the New Yorker or SNL. There's no dinner with the queen. There's no agent who is going to take you on. Only continue if you're having fun with it, and the moment you're not then stop.
And then stop reading the caption contest. Who needs the added aggravation?
from By Ken Levine
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