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Experiencing refusal, especially when it recurs often, is anything but enjoyable. A publisher is saying no, giving a clear “Not interested.” Working in writing, I am no stranger to rejection. I began proposing manuscripts 50 years back, just after completing my studies. Since then, I have had two novels rejected, along with article pitches and many short stories. In the last score of years, concentrating on personal essays, the refusals have grown more frequent. In a typical week, I receive a rejection every few days—adding up to over 100 annually. Overall, rejections over my career run into thousands. At this point, I might as well have a advanced degree in handling no’s.

But, is this a woe-is-me rant? Not at all. Because, at last, at seven decades plus three, I have come to terms with rejection.

By What Means Have I Managed This?

Some context: Now, almost everyone and their distant cousin has said no. I haven’t counted my success rate—that would be quite demoralizing.

For example: recently, a newspaper editor rejected 20 articles one after another before saying yes to one. A few years ago, over 50 publishing houses rejected my manuscript before someone approved it. Later on, 25 agents passed on a project. One editor suggested that I submit potential guest essays less often.

The Seven Stages of Setback

In my 20s, all rejections hurt. I felt attacked. It was not just my creation was being turned down, but myself.

No sooner a submission was rejected, I would go through the “seven stages of rejection”:

• Initially, shock. How could this happen? Why would editors be blind to my ability?
• Second, denial. Surely it’s the mistake? Perhaps it’s an administrative error.
• Then, dismissal. What can they know? Who made you to decide on my work? You’re stupid and the magazine is subpar. I deny your no.
• After that, frustration at the rejecters, then anger at myself. Why do I subject myself to this? Am I a martyr?
• Fifth, bargaining (often mixed with false hope). What will it take you to acknowledge me as a unique writer?
• Sixth, despair. I’m not talented. What’s more, I can never become accomplished.

I experienced this for decades.

Great Examples

Certainly, I was in good company. Tales of writers whose books was initially rejected are legion. The author of Moby-Dick. Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. The writer of Dubliners. Vladimir Nabokov’s Lolita. Joseph Heller’s Catch-22. Almost every famous writer was initially spurned. Because they managed to persevere, then perhaps I could, too. The basketball legend was dropped from his youth squad. Most American leaders over the recent history had previously lost campaigns. The actor-writer estimates that his script for Rocky and desire to appear were declined 1,500 times. “I take rejection as a wake-up call to wake me up and get going, rather than retreat,” he has said.

Acceptance

As time passed, when I entered my later years, I reached the seventh stage of rejection. Understanding. Today, I better understand the multiple factors why a publisher says no. Firstly, an editor may have already featured a comparable article, or have one in the pipeline, or just be thinking about something along the same lines for someone else.

Or, unfortunately, my pitch is uninteresting. Or the evaluator thinks I don’t have the experience or reputation to succeed. Or is no longer in the field for the wares I am submitting. Maybe was busy and read my submission too quickly to see its value.

Feel free call it an awakening. Everything can be turned down, and for whatever cause, and there is virtually nothing you can do about it. Many explanations for denial are always not up to you.

Manageable Factors

Some aspects are your fault. Let’s face it, my pitches and submissions may from time to time be ill-conceived. They may lack relevance and resonance, or the point I am attempting to convey is insufficiently dramatised. Or I’m being too similar. Or a part about my grammar, especially commas, was unacceptable.

The essence is that, despite all my long career and rejection, I have succeeded in being widely published. I’ve authored multiple works—the initial one when I was in my fifties, the next, a memoir, at 65—and in excess of a thousand pieces. Those pieces have been published in newspapers large and small, in regional, worldwide platforms. My first op-ed was published decades ago—and I have now submitted to many places for 50 years.

However, no major hits, no author events in bookshops, no features on popular shows, no presentations, no book awards, no Pulitzers, no Nobel Prize, and no medal. But I can more readily handle no at my age, because my, admittedly modest accomplishments have eased the jolts of my many rejections. I can afford to be thoughtful about it all at this point.

Instructive Setbacks

Setback can be educational, but provided that you pay attention to what it’s indicating. Or else, you will probably just keep seeing denial the wrong way. So what lessons have I learned?

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