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Facing rejection, especially when it happens repeatedly, is far from pleasant. An editor is saying no, delivering a definite “No.” Working in writing, I am familiar with rejection. I commenced pitching story ideas half a century past, upon finishing university. From that point, I have had several works declined, along with nonfiction proposals and many pieces. Over the past 20 years, concentrating on op-eds, the rejections have only increased. In a typical week, I get a setback multiple times weekly—totaling more than 100 each year. Cumulatively, denials throughout my life number in the thousands. Today, I might as well have a master’s in handling no’s.

However, is this a woe-is-me rant? Not at all. Because, at last, at the age of 73, I have accepted rejection.

In What Way Did I Achieve This?

A bit of background: Now, nearly everyone and others has rejected me. I’ve never tracked my acceptance statistics—that would be deeply dispiriting.

A case in point: not long ago, a publication nixed 20 pieces consecutively before accepting one. Back in 2016, no fewer than 50 editors rejected my book idea before someone accepted it. Later on, 25 agents passed on a book pitch. A particular editor even asked that I submit articles only once a month.

The Steps of Rejection

In my 20s, all rejections were painful. I took them personally. I believed my writing was being turned down, but myself.

Right after a submission was rejected, I would begin the “seven stages of rejection”:

• Initially, surprise. What went wrong? Why would editors be ignore my talent?
• Next, refusal to accept. Surely it’s the mistake? This must be an administrative error.
• Third, rejection of the rejection. What do editors know? Who appointed you to judge on my efforts? They’re foolish and their outlet is subpar. I reject your rejection.
• After that, anger at those who rejected me, then self-blame. Why would I put myself through this? Could I be a glutton for punishment?
• Fifth, pleading (preferably mixed with delusion). What does it require you to recognise me as a unique writer?
• Then, sadness. I’m not talented. Worse, I can never become any good.

So it went over many years.

Great Precedents

Of course, I was in excellent company. Accounts of authors whose work was initially rejected are legion. The author of Moby-Dick. Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. James Joyce’s Dubliners. Vladimir Nabokov’s Lolita. The author of Catch-22. Nearly each writer of repute was first rejected. Because they managed to succeed despite no’s, then perhaps I could, too. The sports icon was not selected for his high school basketball team. Most Presidents over the recent history had been defeated in elections. Sylvester Stallone estimates that his Rocky screenplay and attempt to appear were declined 1,500 times. “I take rejection as an alarm to rouse me and persevere, instead of giving up,” he remarked.

Acceptance

Later, as I reached my later years, I achieved the last step of rejection. Understanding. Now, I more clearly see the multiple factors why an editor says no. Firstly, an publisher may have recently run a like work, or have one in the pipeline, or simply be thinking about something along the same lines for a different writer.

Alternatively, more discouragingly, my pitch is uninteresting. Or the editor feels I don’t have the experience or stature to succeed. Or is no longer in the market for the work I am peddling. Maybe was busy and reviewed my piece too fast to recognize its value.

You can call it an awakening. Everything can be rejected, and for numerous reasons, and there is virtually little you can do about it. Many explanations for denial are permanently out of your hands.

Manageable Factors

Additional reasons are under your control. Honestly, my proposals may sometimes be flawed. They may not resonate and appeal, or the message I am attempting to convey is insufficiently dramatised. Alternatively I’m being flagrantly unoriginal. Maybe a part about my punctuation, especially commas, was offensive.

The key is that, despite all my long career and rejection, I have managed to get published in many places. I’ve published two books—the initial one when I was 51, another, a memoir, at older—and over a thousand pieces. These works have been published in magazines major and minor, in regional, worldwide platforms. An early piece was published in my twenties—and I have now submitted to that publication for half a century.

Yet, no bestsellers, no author events at major stores, no spots on talk shows, no presentations, no book awards, no big awards, no international recognition, and no medal. But I can more readily take no at this stage, because my, humble successes have cushioned the stings of my many rejections. I can afford to be philosophical about it all today.

Instructive Rejection

Rejection can be educational, but provided that you pay attention to what it’s trying to teach. If not, you will probably just keep seeing denial the wrong way. What lessons have I acquired?

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