Persevering in the face of rejection

Photograph from Ré Soupault’s Eine Frau allein gehört allen, documenting women in the ‘quartier réservé’ in Tunis.

Rejection is an inevitable part of creative work, but it is never easy to accept. Writing The Ogress of Fez has been one of the most challenging and rewarding experiences I have undertaken. The Doha Film Institute’s screenwriting lab gave me the opportunity to refine the story and better understand its potential. As part of that process, I applied for their development fund, hoping it would allow me to dedicate more time and resources to the screenplay. Unfortunately, my application was disqualified because my script fell short of the seventy-page minimum requirement. At just under fifty pages, it did not meet the threshold.

The disqualification was disappointing, but this project is something I cannot walk away from. I feel a deep responsibility to the story and the history it explores. At its heart, The Ogress of Fez is about the women of the Bousbir, whose lives were shaped by systems of exploitation, resilience, and survival. These are voices that deserve to be heard and stories that demand care and precision in the telling.

I do not see this work as simply a creative endeavour but as an act of advocacy. I believe in this story, not just for its historical significance but for the way it connects to something universal and enduring. It is a story about the the past but also speaks to themes that transcend time, such as power, survival, and identity. I also believe in my ability to tell this story in a way that challenges how narratives like this are typically presented. I want to create something that does not just inform but resonates deeply, a film that moves people and opens new ways of thinking.

Balancing this kind of work with the responsibilities of daily life has been exhausting. Between a full-time job and family life, the time I have to write feels fleeting. I have spent countless hours on research, reaching out to academics, reading, and refining the story. I have invested in books and papers that have shaped the project, but the process feels like moving through deep waters. The further I go, the more I see there is still to uncover.

I sometimes imagine what it would be like to have the time to focus fully on this story, even for a month. To immerse myself completely in the work without the constant pull of other demands. Funding could bridge that gap, but the irony is that I must first meet certain requirements before the project is eligible. It feels like a slow and deliberate climb, but I remind myself that some stories take time to unearth.

I say all this, not to complain or vent about the challenges I am facing in my creative journey, rather to express how I feel a responsibility, as though am carrying something precious in my hands. I feel as though I am holding onto a story that needs to exist, not just for its historical or cultural value but for its ability to speak to something fundamental about the human experience. I do not take that lightly. It is this belief that drives me forward, even when progress feels painstaking.

Rejection, for all its sting, is not the end. It is part of the process. What matters is the decision to keep moving, to continue shaping something meaningful even when the obstacles seem insurmountable.