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Facing rejection, especially when it happens repeatedly, is far from pleasant. A publisher is saying no, giving a clear “Not interested.” Working in writing, I am familiar with setbacks. I commenced proposing articles 50 years back, upon college graduation. Over the years, I have had two novels declined, along with nonfiction proposals and countless short stories. Over the past 20 years, focusing on op-eds, the denials have multiplied. On average, I get a setback every few days—totaling over 100 times a year. Cumulatively, denials in my profession number in the thousands. At this point, I could have a master’s in handling no’s.

But, is this a self-pitying outburst? Not at all. As, now, at the age of 73, I have accepted being turned down.

In What Way Did I Achieve This?

For perspective: By this stage, just about each individual and others has rejected me. I’ve never kept score my success rate—doing so would be quite demoralizing.

For example: lately, an editor rejected 20 articles consecutively before accepting one. In 2016, over 50 book publishers rejected my book idea before someone accepted it. A few years later, 25 literary agents rejected a nonfiction book proposal. A particular editor requested that I send articles less frequently.

My Phases of Setback

In my 20s, all rejections stung. I took them personally. It seemed like my work was being turned down, but who I am.

No sooner a manuscript was rejected, I would start the “seven stages of rejection”:

• First, shock. Why did this occur? How could they be blind to my ability?
• Second, refusal to accept. Surely they rejected the incorrect submission? Perhaps it’s an mistake.
• Then, dismissal. What do they know? Who appointed you to hand down rulings on my labours? It’s nonsense and the magazine is subpar. I refuse this refusal.
• After that, irritation at the rejecters, followed by anger at myself. Why would I do this to myself? Could I be a masochist?
• Subsequently, negotiating (preferably mixed with optimism). What does it require you to recognise me as a once-in-a-generation talent?
• Sixth, sadness. I’m no good. Additionally, I’ll never be successful.

This continued over many years.

Great Company

Naturally, I was in good fellowship. Accounts of creators whose books was originally rejected are legion. Herman Melville’s Moby-Dick. The creator of Frankenstein. The writer of Dubliners. The novelist of Lolita. The author of Catch-22. Almost every renowned author was initially spurned. Because they managed to succeed despite no’s, then possibly I could, too. The sports icon was not selected for his high school basketball team. Most American leaders over the past six decades had earlier failed in races. Sylvester Stallone claims that his Rocky screenplay and bid to star were declined 1,500 times. “I take rejection as someone blowing a bugle to rouse me and get going, rather than retreat,” he stated.

The Final Phase

Then, as I reached my 60s and 70s, I achieved the final phase of rejection. Acceptance. Now, I grasp the various causes why someone says no. For starters, an editor may have already featured a like work, or have something in the pipeline, or be contemplating a similar topic for another contributor.

Or, less promisingly, my pitch is not appealing. Or maybe the reader thinks I lack the credentials or reputation to fit the bill. Or is no longer in the business for the content I am offering. Maybe was too distracted and reviewed my work hastily to see its value.

You can call it an realization. Everything can be turned down, and for numerous reasons, and there is pretty much nothing you can do about it. Certain rationales for rejection are forever not up to you.

Your Responsibility

Some aspects are within it. Honestly, my ideas and work may from time to time be poorly thought out. They may lack relevance and impact, or the idea I am trying to express is not compelling enough. Alternatively I’m being obviously derivative. Or a part about my writing style, especially semicolons, was unacceptable.

The key is that, despite all my years of exertion and setbacks, I have succeeded in being recognized. I’ve published several titles—the initial one when I was 51, another, a memoir, at 65—and over numerous essays. Those pieces have been published in publications major and minor, in regional, worldwide platforms. An early piece ran decades ago—and I have now contributed to various outlets for 50 years.

Yet, no bestsellers, no signings publicly, no appearances on popular shows, no speeches, no book awards, no accolades, no international recognition, and no national honor. But I can more readily accept no at this stage, because my, small achievements have softened the stings of my frequent denials. I can choose to be reflective about it all today.

Instructive Rejection

Rejection can be educational, but when you heed what it’s trying to teach. Otherwise, you will likely just keep seeing denial the wrong way. What lessons have I gained?

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