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Facing refusal, particularly when it happens repeatedly, is not a great feeling. An editor is turning you down, giving a firm “Not interested.” As a writer, I am no stranger to setbacks. I commenced submitting story ideas half a century past, just after finishing university. Over the years, I have had multiple books rejected, along with book ideas and numerous short stories. In the last score of years, specializing in commentary, the refusals have grown more frequent. In a typical week, I get a rejection frequently—adding up to in excess of 100 annually. Overall, rejections throughout my life number in the thousands. At this point, I might as well have a advanced degree in rejection.

But, does this seem like a complaining outburst? Far from it. As, now, at the age of 73, I have come to terms with rejection.

In What Way Did I Achieve It?

A bit of background: Now, just about everyone and others has given me a thumbs-down. I haven’t tracked my acceptance statistics—that would be quite demoralizing.

A case in point: lately, a newspaper editor nixed 20 articles one after another before saying yes to one. A few years ago, at least 50 book publishers vetoed my memoir proposal before someone accepted it. Subsequently, 25 agents passed on a book pitch. A particular editor suggested that I send my work less frequently.

My Steps of Rejection

In my 20s, all rejections hurt. I took them personally. It seemed like my writing being rejected, but me as a person.

As soon as a manuscript was turned down, I would go through the “seven stages of rejection”:

• First, disbelief. How could this happen? Why would these people be blind to my talent?
• Second, refusal to accept. Surely they rejected the incorrect submission? This must be an administrative error.
• Third, rejection of the rejection. What do editors know? Who appointed you to decide on my labours? It’s nonsense and your publication stinks. I refuse this refusal.
• Fourth, frustration at the rejecters, then self-blame. Why would I subject myself to this? Am I a martyr?
• Subsequently, bargaining (preferably mixed with delusion). What will it take you to recognise me as a unique writer?
• Sixth, despair. I’m not talented. Worse, I can never become successful.

This continued over many years.

Notable Precedents

Certainly, I was in fine company. Stories of writers whose work was at first rejected are legion. Herman Melville’s Moby-Dick. Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. James Joyce’s Dubliners. Vladimir Nabokov’s Lolita. Joseph Heller’s Catch-22. Virtually all famous writer was first rejected. Since they did overcome rejection, then perhaps I could, too. The sports icon was not selected for his youth squad. Most US presidents over the past six decades had earlier failed in elections. Sylvester Stallone estimates that his script for Rocky and bid to appear were declined numerous times. “I take rejection as a wake-up call to motivate me and keep moving, instead of giving up,” he stated.

The Final Phase

Then, as I reached my later years, I achieved the last step of rejection. Understanding. Now, I better understand the various causes why someone says no. For starters, an reviewer may have just published a comparable article, or have something underway, or simply be thinking about that idea for someone else.

Alternatively, less promisingly, my submission is not appealing. Or the editor thinks I don’t have the experience or reputation to succeed. Perhaps isn’t in the business for the work I am offering. Maybe didn’t focus and read my work hastily to appreciate its value.

You can call it an epiphany. Everything can be rejected, and for whatever cause, and there is virtually not much you can do about it. Some explanations for rejection are forever not up to you.

Your Responsibility

Some aspects are within it. Admittedly, my ideas and work may occasionally be ill-conceived. They may not resonate and appeal, or the idea I am attempting to convey is poorly presented. Or I’m being obviously derivative. Or an aspect about my writing style, especially commas, was offensive.

The point is that, regardless of all my years of exertion and setbacks, I have achieved published in many places. I’ve published several titles—the initial one when I was middle-aged, my second, a autobiography, at 65—and over a thousand pieces. Those pieces have appeared in magazines big and little, in local, national and global sources. An early piece appeared decades ago—and I have now submitted to that publication for 50 years.

Still, no major hits, no author events in bookshops, no spots on popular shows, no presentations, no prizes, no accolades, no Nobel, and no national honor. But I can more easily take rejection at my age, because my, small successes have eased the blows of my setbacks. I can afford to be thoughtful about it all now.

Instructive Setbacks

Rejection can be instructive, but when you pay attention to what it’s indicating. Otherwise, you will probably just keep seeing denial incorrectly. What teachings have I gained?

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