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Experiencing refusal, particularly when it happens repeatedly, is far from pleasant. An editor is saying no, giving a firm “Not interested.” As a writer, I am familiar with setbacks. I started proposing manuscripts 50 years back, just after finishing university. Over the years, I have had several works declined, along with article pitches and many short stories. Over the past 20 years, concentrating on personal essays, the refusals have grown more frequent. On average, I get a rejection frequently—adding up to more than 100 each year. Cumulatively, denials over my career number in the thousands. At this point, I might as well have a advanced degree in rejection.

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

How Have I Accomplished It?

For perspective: At this point, nearly every person and others has said no. I haven’t kept score my win-lose ratio—doing so would be deeply dispiriting.

A case in point: recently, a newspaper editor rejected 20 submissions consecutively before saying yes to one. A few years ago, no fewer than 50 publishing houses declined my manuscript before someone accepted it. Later on, 25 representatives declined a nonfiction book proposal. One editor requested that I submit potential guest essays less frequently.

The Steps of Rejection

Starting out, every no hurt. I felt attacked. It seemed like my creation was being turned down, but me as a person.

As soon as a manuscript was rejected, I would start the process of setback:

• Initially, disbelief. What went wrong? How could they be ignore my ability?
• Next, denial. Maybe it’s the wrong person? This must be an oversight.
• Third, rejection of the rejection. What do editors know? Who made you to judge on my efforts? You’re stupid and their outlet is poor. I reject your rejection.
• Fourth, irritation at the rejecters, then self-blame. Why do I put myself through this? Am I a glutton for punishment?
• Fifth, negotiating (often accompanied by false hope). What does it require you to see me as a once-in-a-generation talent?
• Then, depression. I’m not talented. Additionally, I can never become any good.

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

Notable Precedents

Certainly, I was in fine fellowship. Tales of authors whose work was at first declined are legion. The author of Moby-Dick. The creator of Frankenstein. James Joyce’s Dubliners. Vladimir Nabokov’s Lolita. The author of Catch-22. Nearly each renowned author was originally turned down. If they could succeed despite no’s, then maybe I could, too. The sports icon was cut from his youth squad. Many Presidents over the last 60 years had been defeated in races. The filmmaker estimates that his Rocky screenplay and bid to star were turned down 1,500 times. For him, denial as an alarm to rouse me and keep moving, not backing down,” he has said.

The Final Phase

Later, as I reached my senior age, I achieved the seventh stage of rejection. Acceptance. Today, I grasp the multiple factors why someone says no. To begin with, an editor may have already featured a similar piece, or have something in progress, or be thinking about that idea for another contributor.

Alternatively, less promisingly, my idea is uninteresting. Or the evaluator feels I am not qualified or reputation to be suitable. Perhaps is no longer in the market for the content I am offering. Or didn’t focus and reviewed my submission too quickly to recognize its value.

Go ahead call it an epiphany. Everything can be turned down, and for whatever cause, and there is pretty much not much you can do about it. Certain reasons for denial are forever beyond your control.

Within Control

Others are within it. Honestly, my proposals may from time to time be flawed. They may not resonate and appeal, or the message I am attempting to convey is not compelling enough. Or I’m being too similar. Maybe something about my punctuation, notably semicolons, was annoying.

The key is that, regardless of all my decades of effort and rejection, I have managed to get published in many places. I’ve authored two books—my first when I was in my fifties, another, a personal story, at 65—and more than numerous essays. These works have appeared in publications large and small, in local, national and global outlets. An early piece ran when I was 26—and I have now contributed to that publication for half a century.

However, no bestsellers, no book signings publicly, no features on talk shows, no presentations, no book awards, no big awards, no international recognition, and no national honor. But I can more readily take rejection at this stage, because my, humble accomplishments have cushioned the stings of my frequent denials. I can now be philosophical about it all today.

Instructive Rejection

Denial can be instructive, but provided that you listen to what it’s trying to teach. Otherwise, you will likely just keep interpreting no’s the wrong way. So what lessons have I gained?

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