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Encountering rejection, notably when it happens repeatedly, is far from pleasant. An editor is saying no, delivering a definite “No.” Working in writing, I am well acquainted with rejection. I began submitting articles 50 years back, upon completing my studies. Over the years, I have had two novels declined, along with nonfiction proposals and many essays. During the recent score of years, focusing on personal essays, the denials have multiplied. Regularly, I get a rejection every few days—adding up to more than 100 annually. Cumulatively, denials in my profession exceed a thousand. By now, I might as well have a PhD in handling no’s.

However, does this seem like a woe-is-me rant? Not at all. Since, finally, at the age of 73, I have come to terms with rejection.

How Have I Managed This?

A bit of background: At this point, just about every person and their distant cousin has given me a thumbs-down. I’ve never tracked my success rate—that would be deeply dispiriting.

A case in point: recently, an editor turned down 20 articles in a row before saying yes to one. A few years ago, over 50 editors declined my manuscript before someone gave the green light. Later on, 25 agents declined a book pitch. One editor even asked that I submit my work less often.

My Seven Stages of Rejection

In my 20s, each denial hurt. It felt like a personal affront. It was not just my work being rejected, but me as a person.

Right after a submission was rejected, I would go through the “seven stages of rejection”:

• Initially, surprise. How could this happen? Why would these people be ignore my ability?
• Second, denial. Maybe you’ve rejected the incorrect submission? It has to be an administrative error.
• Then, rejection of the rejection. What do any of you know? Who made you to decide on my work? You’re stupid and the magazine is subpar. I refuse this refusal.
• After that, frustration at them, then self-blame. Why do I subject myself to this? Am I a glutton for punishment?
• Subsequently, pleading (often accompanied by delusion). What will it take you to acknowledge me as a unique writer?
• Sixth, sadness. I’m not talented. Additionally, I can never become any good.

This continued through my 30s, 40s and 50s.

Great Precedents

Certainly, I was in fine fellowship. Stories of creators whose work was at first rejected are numerous. The author of Moby-Dick. Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. James Joyce’s Dubliners. The novelist of Lolita. The author of Catch-22. Nearly each famous writer was originally turned down. Because they managed to persevere, 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 been defeated in campaigns. Sylvester Stallone claims that his Rocky screenplay and attempt to appear were declined numerous times. He said rejection as someone blowing a bugle to motivate me and persevere, rather than retreat,” he has said.

The Seventh Stage

Later, when I entered my 60s and 70s, I reached the final phase of rejection. Peace. Now, I better understand the many reasons why someone says no. To begin with, an editor may have recently run a comparable article, or have something in progress, or simply be thinking about that idea for a different writer.

Alternatively, less promisingly, my idea is not appealing. Or the evaluator thinks I lack the credentials or standing to succeed. Perhaps isn’t in the field for the content I am submitting. Or was too distracted and scanned my piece hastily to see its quality.

Go ahead call it an realization. Any work can be declined, and for numerous reasons, and there is virtually not much you can do about it. Certain explanations for rejection are permanently beyond your control.

Your Responsibility

Others are your fault. Admittedly, my pitches and submissions may from time to time be poorly thought out. They may be irrelevant and resonance, or the message I am struggling to articulate is poorly presented. Alternatively I’m being obviously derivative. Maybe an aspect about my grammar, notably semicolons, was unacceptable.

The point is that, regardless of all my decades of effort and setbacks, I have managed to get widely published. I’ve written multiple works—my first when I was 51, another, a autobiography, at 65—and more than a thousand pieces. My writings have appeared in magazines major and minor, in local, national and global platforms. My first op-ed appeared when I was 26—and I have now written to various outlets for half a century.

Still, no bestsellers, no signings in bookshops, no appearances on TV programs, no speeches, no prizes, no Pulitzers, no Nobel Prize, and no medal. But I can better take no at my age, because my, humble achievements have eased the stings of my setbacks. I can choose to be thoughtful about it all now.

Instructive Rejection

Denial can be instructive, but only if you pay attention to what it’s trying to teach. Or else, you will likely just keep seeing denial incorrectly. So what teachings have I gained?

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