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Encountering refusal, particularly when it recurs often, is anything but enjoyable. Someone is turning you down, delivering a clear “No.” As a writer, I am well acquainted with rejection. I commenced pitching manuscripts five decades ago, just after finishing university. Since then, I have had several works turned down, along with nonfiction proposals and numerous short stories. Over the past score of years, specializing in personal essays, the rejections have only increased. In a typical week, I receive a setback every few days—amounting to over 100 annually. Overall, rejections over my career number in the thousands. At this point, I could have a master’s in handling no’s.

But, does this seem like a woe-is-me rant? Absolutely not. Because, at last, at seven decades plus three, I have accepted being turned down.

How Have I Accomplished This?

Some context: Now, nearly each individual and their relatives has rejected me. I haven’t counted my acceptance statistics—doing so would be quite demoralizing.

As an illustration: not long ago, a newspaper editor turned down 20 submissions in a row before accepting one. In 2016, no fewer than 50 editors rejected my memoir proposal before one accepted it. A few years later, 25 agents rejected a project. A particular editor suggested that I submit my work less often.

The Phases of Setback

When I was younger, each denial stung. It felt like a personal affront. I believed my creation being rejected, but who I am.

Right after a submission was turned down, I would start the “seven stages of rejection”:

• First, disbelief. What went wrong? How could editors be ignore my ability?
• Second, refusal to accept. Surely you’ve rejected the wrong person? It has to be an administrative error.
• Then, rejection of the rejection. What can editors know? Who made you to decide on my labours? They’re foolish and your publication stinks. I refuse this refusal.
• After that, frustration at the rejecters, followed by self-blame. Why would I put myself through this? Am I a masochist?
• Subsequently, negotiating (preferably mixed with false hope). How can I convince you to recognise me as a exceptional creator?
• Then, despair. I’m not talented. What’s more, I can never become any good.

I experienced this for decades.

Excellent Examples

Naturally, I was in good fellowship. Stories of creators whose manuscripts was initially declined are legion. The author of Moby-Dick. Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. The writer of Dubliners. The novelist of Lolita. The author of Catch-22. Virtually all famous writer was initially spurned. Because they managed to succeed despite no’s, then possibly I could, too. The basketball legend was not selected for his youth squad. Many Presidents over the last 60 years had previously lost campaigns. Sylvester Stallone claims that his movie pitch and bid to appear were rejected numerous times. “I take rejection as someone blowing a bugle to motivate me and keep moving, instead of giving up,” he has said.

The Final Phase

Later, upon arriving at my 60s and 70s, I achieved the seventh stage of setback. Acceptance. Now, I grasp the various causes why a publisher says no. To begin with, an reviewer may have recently run a like work, or have something in progress, or just be considering a similar topic for another contributor.

Alternatively, more discouragingly, my submission is uninteresting. Or the evaluator feels I lack the credentials or reputation to succeed. Or is no longer in the market for the wares I am peddling. Maybe didn’t focus and reviewed my piece too fast to see its abundant merits.

You can call it an realization. Any work can be turned down, and for whatever cause, and there is almost nothing you can do about it. Certain reasons for rejection are forever not up to you.

Manageable Factors

Additional reasons are within it. Let’s face it, my ideas and work may occasionally be ill-conceived. They may be irrelevant and appeal, or the message I am struggling to articulate is insufficiently dramatised. Alternatively I’m being too similar. Or something about my grammar, especially semicolons, was offensive.

The key is that, despite all my years of exertion and setbacks, I have managed to get recognized. I’ve published two books—my first when I was in my fifties, the next, a personal story, at retirement age—and in excess of a thousand pieces. Those pieces have appeared in publications major and minor, in regional, worldwide platforms. My debut commentary was published decades ago—and I have now contributed to that publication for five decades.

However, no blockbusters, no book signings in bookshops, no features on talk shows, no Ted Talks, no prizes, no big awards, no international recognition, and no medal. But I can more easily take rejection at 73, because my, admittedly modest achievements have eased the stings of my many rejections. I can now be philosophical about it all at this point.

Valuable Setbacks

Rejection can be educational, but only if you pay attention to what it’s indicating. Otherwise, you will likely just keep seeing denial all wrong. What lessons have I gained?

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