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Experiencing denial, notably when it occurs frequently, is not a great feeling. An editor is turning you down, delivering a clear “Nope.” As a writer, I am no stranger to setbacks. I began pitching story ideas five decades ago, right after college graduation. From that point, I have had several works rejected, along with book ideas and countless essays. Over the past two decades, concentrating on personal essays, the denials have multiplied. On average, I receive a setback frequently—totaling in excess of 100 times a year. Overall, rejections over my career run into thousands. Today, I could have a PhD in rejection.

However, is this a woe-is-me outburst? Not at all. Since, now, at seven decades plus three, I have come to terms with rejection.

By What Means Did I Achieve This?

A bit of background: Now, almost each individual and their distant cousin has given me a thumbs-down. I’ve never tracked my acceptance statistics—doing so would be very discouraging.

For example: not long ago, an editor rejected 20 pieces consecutively before approving one. Back in 2016, at least 50 editors declined my manuscript before a single one gave the green light. Later on, 25 literary agents passed on a book pitch. A particular editor even asked that I send potential guest essays less frequently.

My Phases of Rejection

In my 20s, each denial stung. I felt attacked. It seemed like my creation was being turned down, but myself.

No sooner a piece was turned down, I would begin the phases of denial:

• Initially, surprise. Why did this occur? How could they be overlook my skill?
• Second, denial. Surely you’ve rejected the incorrect submission? Perhaps it’s an oversight.
• Third, rejection of the rejection. What do any of you know? Who made you to hand down rulings on my labours? It’s nonsense and the magazine stinks. I deny your no.
• Fourth, anger at them, followed by frustration with me. Why do I subject myself to this? Could I be a glutton for punishment?
• Fifth, negotiating (preferably seasoned with optimism). What will it take you to acknowledge me as a unique writer?
• Sixth, sadness. I’m not talented. What’s more, I can never become successful.

I experienced this for decades.

Notable Company

Of course, I was in excellent company. Stories of authors whose books was initially turned down are numerous. Herman Melville’s Moby-Dick. Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. The writer of Dubliners. Vladimir Nabokov’s Lolita. The author of Catch-22. Nearly each famous writer was initially spurned. If they could overcome rejection, then perhaps I could, too. The sports icon was dropped from his school team. Most American leaders over the last 60 years had been defeated in elections. Sylvester Stallone claims that his movie pitch and bid to appear were declined 1,500 times. For him, denial as a wake-up call to rouse me and keep moving, instead of giving up,” he remarked.

The Seventh Stage

Later, as I reached my later years, I achieved the final phase of rejection. Understanding. Currently, I better understand the various causes why an editor says no. For starters, an publisher may have just published a like work, or have something in the pipeline, or simply be thinking about that idea for another contributor.

Or, more discouragingly, my pitch is not appealing. Or the reader believes I don’t have the experience or stature to succeed. Or is no longer in the market for the wares I am submitting. Maybe was too distracted and reviewed my work too quickly to appreciate its quality.

Feel free call it an epiphany. Any work can be turned down, and for any reason, and there is pretty much little you can do about it. Certain rationales for denial are permanently beyond your control.

Your Responsibility

Others are your fault. Admittedly, my ideas and work may occasionally be flawed. They may be irrelevant and appeal, or the message I am attempting to convey is poorly presented. Or I’m being too similar. Maybe an aspect about my punctuation, especially commas, was offensive.

The point is that, regardless of all my long career and rejection, I have succeeded in being recognized. I’ve authored multiple works—the initial one when I was in my fifties, another, a personal story, at retirement age—and more than numerous essays. Those pieces have been published in newspapers major and minor, in diverse platforms. My debut commentary appeared decades ago—and I have now submitted to various outlets for 50 years.

Still, no major hits, no author events in bookshops, no features on popular shows, no Ted Talks, no prizes, no big awards, no Nobel, and no national honor. But I can more readily accept no at my age, because my, humble accomplishments have softened the blows of my setbacks. I can afford to be thoughtful about it all now.

Valuable Setbacks

Rejection can be helpful, but provided that you heed what it’s indicating. If not, you will likely just keep seeing denial the wrong way. What insights have I learned?

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