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Encountering refusal, notably when it occurs frequently, is far from pleasant. A publisher is turning you down, giving a clear “No.” As a writer, I am no stranger to rejection. I commenced pitching manuscripts five decades ago, upon college graduation. Over the years, I have had two novels rejected, along with book ideas and numerous short stories. Over the past score of years, concentrating on personal essays, the refusals have grown more frequent. On average, I get a setback multiple times weekly—totaling over 100 each year. Overall, rejections throughout my life exceed a thousand. By now, I could claim a PhD in handling no’s.

So, is this a self-pitying outburst? Far from it. Because, at last, at the age of 73, I have embraced being turned down.

How Have I Accomplished This?

A bit of background: By this stage, almost each individual and others has rejected me. I haven’t tracked my win-lose ratio—it would be quite demoralizing.

For example: lately, a newspaper editor turned down 20 articles consecutively before accepting one. Back in 2016, at least 50 book publishers rejected my manuscript before one accepted it. Later on, 25 representatives declined a project. An editor requested that I send my work less often.

My Phases of Rejection

Starting out, every no hurt. It felt like a personal affront. It was not just my work being rejected, but who I am.

As soon as a submission was turned down, I would go through the phases of denial:

• First, shock. What went wrong? How could they be blind to my talent?
• Second, denial. Maybe they rejected the wrong person? It has to be an administrative error.
• Then, rejection of the rejection. What can editors know? Who appointed you to judge on my work? You’re stupid and their outlet is poor. I reject your rejection.
• After that, frustration at those who rejected me, then anger at myself. Why would I subject myself to this? Am I a martyr?
• Subsequently, bargaining (preferably seasoned with optimism). How can I convince you to see me as a unique writer?
• Sixth, despair. I’m not talented. Worse, I can never become successful.

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

Excellent Precedents

Of course, I was in good company. Accounts of writers whose books was originally turned down are plentiful. The author of Moby-Dick. The creator of Frankenstein. The writer of Dubliners. Vladimir Nabokov’s 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 school team. Many American leaders over the recent history had previously lost races. Sylvester Stallone says that his script for Rocky and desire to star were declined repeatedly. He said rejection as an alarm to wake me up and get going, not backing down,” he remarked.

The Final Phase

As time passed, upon arriving at my 60s and 70s, I achieved the final phase of setback. Peace. Now, I grasp the multiple factors why a publisher says no. For starters, an publisher may have already featured a similar piece, or have one in the pipeline, or just be thinking about that idea for another contributor.

Alternatively, unfortunately, my submission is not appealing. Or maybe the reader thinks I am not qualified or stature to succeed. Perhaps is no longer in the business for the work I am offering. Or didn’t focus and scanned my work hastily to recognize its value.

Go ahead call it an awakening. Everything can be turned down, and for numerous reasons, and there is pretty much not much you can do about it. Certain rationales for denial are forever out of your hands.

Within Control

Others are under your control. Let’s face it, my pitches and submissions may occasionally be poorly thought out. They may lack relevance and resonance, or the message I am attempting to convey is insufficiently dramatised. Or I’m being flagrantly unoriginal. Maybe a part about my writing style, particularly commas, was offensive.

The key is that, despite all my decades of effort and rejection, I have succeeded in being recognized. I’ve written several titles—the initial one when I was 51, another, a memoir, at older—and in excess of numerous essays. Those pieces have appeared in publications major and minor, in diverse platforms. My debut commentary ran when I was 26—and I have now written to that publication for half a century.

Yet, no blockbusters, no author events at major stores, no appearances on popular shows, no Ted Talks, no book awards, no big awards, no Nobel, and no Presidential Medal. But I can better accept rejection at 73, because my, humble successes have eased the jolts of my setbacks. I can now be reflective about it all today.

Valuable Rejection

Rejection can be instructive, but when you heed what it’s indicating. Or else, you will almost certainly just keep interpreting no’s all wrong. What lessons have I gained?

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