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Experiencing denial, especially when it happens repeatedly, is far from pleasant. An editor is declining your work, giving a definite “No.” Working in writing, I am familiar with rejection. I began pitching story ideas five decades ago, upon completing my studies. From that point, I have had two novels turned down, along with nonfiction proposals and many essays. Over the past 20 years, concentrating on op-eds, the refusals have grown more frequent. Regularly, I receive a setback frequently—adding up to over 100 each year. Overall, rejections throughout my life run into thousands. Today, I could have a master’s in rejection.

So, is this a self-pitying rant? Far from it. Because, finally, at seven decades plus three, I have embraced rejection.

By What Means Have I Managed It?

A bit of background: At this point, nearly every person and others has rejected me. I haven’t tracked my acceptance statistics—it would be deeply dispiriting.

As an illustration: recently, an editor rejected 20 pieces consecutively before approving one. Back in 2016, at least 50 book publishers declined my memoir proposal before a single one accepted it. Later on, 25 agents declined a nonfiction book proposal. A particular editor even asked that I send potential guest essays less frequently.

The Steps of Rejection

In my 20s, all rejections hurt. I took them personally. I believed my writing being rejected, but who I am.

No sooner a manuscript was turned down, I would begin the “seven stages of rejection”:

• First, surprise. Why did this occur? How could these people be ignore my ability?
• Next, denial. Maybe it’s the wrong person? Perhaps it’s an oversight.
• Then, dismissal. What do editors know? Who appointed you to hand down rulings on my labours? It’s nonsense and the magazine stinks. I refuse this refusal.
• After that, irritation at those who rejected me, followed by frustration with me. Why would I subject myself to this? Could I be a martyr?
• Subsequently, bargaining (often accompanied by false hope). What will it take you to see me as a once-in-a-generation talent?
• Sixth, depression. I’m no good. Additionally, I’ll never be any good.

This continued over many years.

Notable Company

Naturally, I was in good fellowship. Accounts of authors whose manuscripts was initially rejected are plentiful. The author of Moby-Dick. The creator of Frankenstein. James Joyce’s Dubliners. The novelist of Lolita. Joseph Heller’s Catch-22. Virtually all writer of repute was first rejected. If they could persevere, then possibly I could, too. Michael Jordan was dropped from his youth squad. Many American leaders over the last 60 years had earlier failed in races. Sylvester Stallone says that his movie pitch and attempt to appear were declined 1,500 times. “I take rejection as someone blowing a bugle to motivate me and persevere, instead of giving up,” he has said.

Acceptance

Then, when I entered my later years, I entered the seventh stage of rejection. Peace. Now, I better understand the multiple factors why someone says no. Firstly, an publisher may have just published a comparable article, or be planning one in progress, or just be contemplating a similar topic for someone else.

Or, unfortunately, my pitch is of limited interest. Or maybe the reader thinks I lack the credentials or standing to be suitable. Perhaps isn’t in the field for the wares I am peddling. Maybe was too distracted and reviewed my submission too fast to appreciate its abundant merits.

Go ahead call it an awakening. Anything can be rejected, and for numerous reasons, and there is almost nothing you can do about it. Some reasons for rejection are permanently not up to you.

Within Control

Others are within it. Admittedly, my proposals may from time to time be flawed. They may not resonate and impact, or the idea I am attempting to convey is insufficiently dramatised. Alternatively I’m being obviously derivative. Or something about my punctuation, especially semicolons, was unacceptable.

The point is that, regardless of all my years of exertion and rejection, I have achieved published in many places. I’ve authored two books—my first when I was middle-aged, another, a personal story, at older—and in excess of a thousand pieces. My writings have featured in magazines big and little, in diverse outlets. My first op-ed appeared in my twenties—and I have now submitted to that publication for half a century.

Still, no bestsellers, no author events at major stores, no features on TV programs, no Ted Talks, no honors, no Pulitzers, no Nobel Prize, and no national honor. But I can more readily accept no at my age, because my, admittedly modest successes have cushioned the stings of my many rejections. I can choose to be reflective about it all at this point.

Valuable Rejection

Rejection can be educational, but provided that you pay attention to what it’s trying to teach. Or else, you will almost certainly just keep taking rejection incorrectly. What teachings have I gained?

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