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Experiencing rejection, especially when it recurs often, is far from pleasant. An editor is declining your work, delivering a firm “No.” Working in writing, I am well acquainted with rejection. I started submitting story ideas half a century past, just after finishing university. From that point, I have had two novels rejected, along with article pitches and countless short stories. Over the past two decades, concentrating on op-eds, the denials have only increased. In a typical week, I face a rejection frequently—adding up to more than 100 times a year. In total, denials throughout my life number in the thousands. By now, I could have a advanced degree in handling no’s.

However, is this a complaining rant? Far from it. As, finally, at seven decades plus three, I have embraced being turned down.

In What Way Have I Accomplished It?

For perspective: By this stage, just about everyone and others has said no. I haven’t counted my success rate—doing so would be deeply dispiriting.

For example: lately, an editor nixed 20 pieces consecutively before approving one. A few years ago, at least 50 publishing houses vetoed my manuscript before a single one approved it. Subsequently, 25 representatives passed on a book pitch. One editor even asked that I submit potential guest essays less frequently.

My Steps of Rejection

When I was younger, every no were painful. It felt like a personal affront. It was not just my writing was being turned down, but who I am.

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

• First, disbelief. What went wrong? Why would editors be overlook my ability?
• Second, refusal to accept. Certainly you’ve rejected the incorrect submission? This must be an mistake.
• Then, dismissal. What do editors know? Who made you to decide on my work? It’s nonsense and the magazine stinks. I deny your no.
• Fourth, frustration at those who rejected me, followed by anger at myself. Why do I do this to myself? Could I be a martyr?
• Subsequently, bargaining (often mixed with optimism). How can I convince you to see me as a once-in-a-generation talent?
• Sixth, sadness. I’m no good. What’s more, I’ll never be accomplished.

This continued for decades.

Notable Precedents

Naturally, I was in good fellowship. Stories of authors whose books was originally turned down are numerous. Herman Melville’s Moby-Dick. Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. James Joyce’s Dubliners. The novelist of Lolita. The author of Catch-22. Almost every renowned author was originally turned down. Because they managed to persevere, then perhaps I could, too. The sports icon was dropped from his youth squad. Many US presidents over the recent history had been defeated in races. The filmmaker says that his script for Rocky and bid to appear were turned down numerous times. He said rejection as someone blowing a bugle to wake me up and keep moving, not backing down,” he has said.

The Seventh Stage

Then, upon arriving at my 60s and 70s, I entered the final phase of setback. Understanding. Currently, I grasp the multiple factors why an editor says no. Firstly, an editor may have just published a comparable article, or have something in the pipeline, or simply be contemplating something along the same lines for another contributor.

Alternatively, less promisingly, my idea is of limited interest. Or the reader thinks I lack the credentials or stature to be suitable. Perhaps isn’t in the business for the content I am offering. Maybe was too distracted and scanned my work too quickly to see its value.

You can call it an epiphany. Any work can be rejected, and for whatever cause, and there is virtually little you can do about it. Some rationales for rejection are always beyond your control.

Your Responsibility

Others are within it. Let’s face it, my pitches and submissions may occasionally be flawed. They may be irrelevant and appeal, or the message I am struggling to articulate is poorly presented. Or I’m being flagrantly unoriginal. Or a part about my writing style, especially semicolons, was unacceptable.

The point is that, regardless of all my decades of effort and setbacks, I have succeeded in being published in many places. I’ve written multiple works—the initial one when I was 51, the next, a memoir, at 65—and more than a thousand pieces. Those pieces have featured in publications major and minor, in regional, worldwide sources. My debut commentary appeared when I was 26—and I have now contributed to that publication for 50 years.

Still, no bestsellers, no book signings at major stores, no spots on talk shows, no speeches, no book awards, no big awards, no Nobel Prize, and no Presidential Medal. But I can more easily handle rejection at 73, because my, admittedly modest accomplishments have eased the stings of my setbacks. I can now be philosophical about it all now.

Educational Setbacks

Setback can be instructive, but when you heed what it’s trying to teach. Otherwise, you will almost certainly just keep interpreting no’s incorrectly. What lessons have I acquired?

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