Embracing Rejection: Lessons from Five Decades of Creative Journey

Facing rejection, notably when it happens repeatedly, is anything but enjoyable. A publisher is declining your work, giving a clear “Not interested.” Working in writing, I am no stranger to rejection. I commenced submitting manuscripts half a century past, upon finishing university. From that point, I have had two novels declined, along with nonfiction proposals and many pieces. During the recent two decades, specializing in personal essays, the refusals have only increased. On average, I receive a rejection multiple times weekly—amounting to in excess of 100 each year. In total, rejections throughout my life number in the thousands. By now, I might as well have a master’s in handling no’s.

So, is this a woe-is-me tirade? Not at all. As, finally, at seven decades plus three, I have come to terms with rejection.

By What Means Have I Managed It?

Some context: By this stage, nearly each individual and their distant cousin has rejected me. I haven’t kept score my win-lose ratio—that would be very discouraging.

As an illustration: not long ago, a newspaper editor turned down 20 submissions in a row before saying yes to one. In 2016, no fewer than 50 editors rejected my manuscript before one gave the green light. Subsequently, 25 representatives declined a nonfiction book proposal. An editor requested that I submit potential guest essays less frequently.

My Phases of Setback

When I was younger, all rejections were painful. I took them personally. It was not just my writing was being turned down, but me as a person.

As soon as a submission was rejected, I would begin the “seven stages of rejection”:

• First, disbelief. Why did this occur? Why would they be ignore my talent?
• Next, refusal to accept. Certainly it’s the incorrect submission? It has to be an administrative error.
• Then, dismissal. What do editors know? Who appointed you to hand down rulings on my labours? They’re foolish and the magazine stinks. I refuse this refusal.
• Fourth, frustration at them, then self-blame. Why would I subject myself to this? Could I be a martyr?
• Subsequently, pleading (preferably accompanied by delusion). What will it take you to see me as a once-in-a-generation talent?
• Sixth, depression. I’m not talented. Additionally, I can never become accomplished.

I experienced this over many years.

Notable Precedents

Certainly, I was in excellent company. Accounts of writers whose books was initially declined are legion. The author of Moby-Dick. Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. The writer of Dubliners. The novelist of Lolita. Joseph Heller’s Catch-22. Nearly each renowned author was initially spurned. Because they managed to persevere, then possibly I could, too. The basketball legend was dropped from his high school basketball team. The majority of Presidents over the past six decades had been defeated in campaigns. The actor-writer says that his movie pitch and desire to star were declined 1,500 times. For him, denial as a wake-up call to motivate me and keep moving, rather than retreat,” he has said.

The Seventh Stage

As time passed, as I reached my senior age, I entered the seventh stage of setback. Peace. Today, I grasp the multiple factors why an editor says no. For starters, an publisher may have already featured a comparable article, or have something in progress, or be contemplating that idea for someone else.

Or, more discouragingly, my idea is uninteresting. Or maybe the reader thinks I am not qualified or reputation to be suitable. Perhaps is no longer in the business for the wares I am offering. Or didn’t focus and read my work hastily to see its value.

You can call it an epiphany. Anything can be declined, and for whatever cause, and there is pretty much little you can do about it. Many rationales for rejection are forever not up to you.

Your Responsibility

Additional reasons are within it. Admittedly, my pitches and submissions may occasionally be poorly thought out. They may be irrelevant and appeal, or the point I am attempting to convey is poorly presented. Or I’m being flagrantly unoriginal. Or an aspect about my writing style, notably semicolons, was unacceptable.

The point is that, regardless of all my years of exertion and setbacks, I have achieved widely published. I’ve authored several titles—my first when I was in my fifties, another, a memoir, at retirement age—and more than a thousand pieces. My writings have been published in magazines major and minor, in regional, worldwide outlets. My debut commentary ran when I was 26—and I have now contributed to various outlets for 50 years.

Yet, no major hits, no signings publicly, no spots on talk shows, no presentations, no book awards, no big awards, no international recognition, and no medal. But I can better handle rejection at 73, because my, admittedly modest achievements have eased the jolts of my frequent denials. I can afford to be philosophical about it all now.

Valuable Rejection

Denial can be educational, but when you listen to what it’s trying to teach. If not, you will likely just keep taking rejection all wrong. What insights have I acquired?

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